who were enjoying the fiddle music, shared ale, and succulent dripping roast pig and oxen meat. But though Patience examined the merrymakers intently, no one appeared to be looking for lost kin. The tiny little hand in hers firmed her determination.
She was about to ask Sally to describe her aunt, when they reached the fiery pier surrounded by those seeking warmth on this damp spring night. Just as Patience released the little girl’s hand briefly to adjust her bonnet, a foxed young man pushed past them and knocked Sally toward the flames.
Patience uttered a shriek and lunged for Sally but a gentleman nearby proved faster. He grabbed the child before she could feel the heat’s sting. As the stranger lifted the child up and away from the blaze, Sally squealed in delight.
Breathless with relief, Patience watched the gentleman set the child down safely and told her, “You must be more careful, little one.”
His concerned voice invoked a warm smile of gratitude from Patience. Before she could express her appreciation, a young man interrupted them, handing a black cane with a gold tip to Sally’s rescuer.
“Lord Londringham, you dropped your cane, over there.” The pale, pleasant-featured man gestured over his shoulder to the firepit.
“Thank you, I had forgotten it.”
Patience dropped her jaw.
It was he, Lord Londringham, her new employer—and her enemy. What was he doing at the fair? Patience had assumed that nobility would have no interest in local events. She was obviously proved wrong.
Once in his household as the new still-room maid, she would need to try to be inconspicuous if she was to complete her mission. Given her purpose, she wanted to spend as little time as possible with him this night.
The earl, dressed in black, returned his attention to Patience with a quick nod. “If you’ll forgive these circumstances, I am Lord Londringham. Madam, you should watch your daughter more closely. She could have been seriously injured.” Censure was implicit in his tone and manner.
Still shaken by his presence, Patience could only manage to sputter indignantly, “I…I assure you, sir, I am in the habit of taking care of those in my custody, but a man—”
“Where’s Jane?” Sally cried, effectively suspending Patience’s defense.
Lord Londringham looked inquiringly at Patience.
“Her doll,” she responded flatly as the child tugged on Patience’s skirts.
With a quick look around, the earl spotted the ravaged wood figure by the fire. He picked it up and showed it to the child.
“Was this your doll?” he asked. At Sally’s sad nod and trembling lower lip, the earl told her gently, “She could not be rescued, but might your mama allow me to purchase you a new doll?” He raised his eyebrows at Patience, his gaze inscrutable.
Patience stared in amazement, her lips dry at his intense stare. The man was a chameleon, either gentle and soft-spoken or an arrogant toad. He really should tread the boards with his talent, she thought. He was certainly handsome enough, with dark brown hair, penetrating blue eyes, a lean face, and square jaw. Oh, but she was becoming distracted. She must keep her mind on her plan. Nothing else mattered.
“Madam, do I have your permission?” He threw the charred remnants of the doll back into the fire and turned to Patience for acquiescence.
His dark face impassive, she knew why he made such a good spy. She blinked in confusion. What had he just said? Something about her daughter? “Oh, but—” belatedly she began to explain.
“Of course ye may, right Mama?” Sally smiled innocently up at Patience, who raised her eyebrows and dropped her jaw. The little minx wanted to pass off Patience as her mama in order to get a new doll.
She hesitated to admonish the child, then well aware the earl stood nearby quietly watching, told the little girl sweetly, “Sally, I told you I would buy you a doll. And we really must not detain this kind gentleman any further. Remember, we must search for Aunt Bella.”
His smooth voice disrupted her thoughts, startling her. “Perhaps I could assist you in purchasing a doll for the child and your search for Aunt Bella.”
Patience put a hand to her head. How ever was she to endure his company, even for one moment? He was not truly considering joining them. Did he not have any spy work to do?
She hid her trembling hands in her skirts’ pockets. Being so close to the one who was possibly guilty of causing harm to her brother, she had to bite her lip to stop from pronouncing him the rogue she knew him to be. Before Patience could reply negatively, Sally answered for her, running to his side.
“Oh, please, me lord. I would really love a new doll. E’en though I’ll miss Jane. And ye can help us find Aunt Bella too.” Her sweet supplication would have felled Goliath faster than David’s stone.
Patience watched in surprise as he bent down toward Sally.
“Then we are agreed.” When the earl smiled at Sally, Patience saw the child’s face light up.
“Oh, yes, please, sir,” Sally whispered, then turned to Patience with a smug look. “Coming, Mama?”
Patience uttered, “Of course, sweetheart” through gritted teeth while following the little lamb leading the big bad wolf off to find a doll. Patience was beginning to believe Sally didn’t even have an aunt.
Surely this evening was getting a bit out of hand. Resolved to once more control the events, Patience hurried after Sally and the earl, noting they had already exchanged names. She had to admire the undivided attention the earl showed the child. But she was not fooled. She knew the man would have helped sell Joseph to the merchants. Her brother James’s sermons not forgotten.
After the little girl had tried repeatedly to pronounce his last name without success, she announced decidedly, “I’ll call ye ‘Mr. Long.’”
The earl threw Patience in a panic when he turned his dark blue study in her direction. “Might I know your name, madam? Surely I cannot call you ‘Mama.’”
She knew his smile was deceptively pleasant for Sally.
Sally cut in. “Me mama’s name is Miss Grundy.”
Trying to remember her “new” last name and hearing the word “mama” in the same sentence disconcerted Patience but not as much as the earl’s thorough scrutiny of her before inquiring, “Should that not be Mrs. Grundy?” in a low voice that sent warm sparks to her cheeks.
Mortified, her mouth dropped open before she quickly recovered. “Of course. My husband died, soon after we married.” She wet her lips in despair. That didn’t sound right. “Sally is really my stepdaughter.” Yes, much better, she thought. She really needed to be rid of his presence and to regain her composure.
Thankfully, he chose not to pursue further inquiry. “Mrs. Grundy, what does Aunt Bella look like?”
“Look like?” Patience asked distractedly, trying to think of an answer.
He chuckled softly, causing her to stare at the softening of his features. “Yes, Aunt Bella. Surely you know what the woman looks like?”
