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with me to gather Hugo. The two can become acquainted and keep each other company in the carriage while I take turns with the coachman.”
    “Oh, I do not think that is a good idea, my lord.”
    “What, my driving? I assure you, I am a competent whip.”
    “No, of course I did not mean to fault your driving. Billy is always telling us what a nonpareil with the ribbons you are, according to Jake, that is. But I really think you ought to leave Billy here while you make the trip.”
    “William is not remaining behind.”
    “It is a very long journey and, as you said, you are not used to children. Billy can be…somewhat difficult during lengthy rides.”
    “William will learn the proper way to behave. And not a moment too soon, it seems. He appears a robust lad, who could benefit from a firmer hand.”
    “But he—”
    “Is my son. I am mindful of the debt of gratitude I owe you, Mrs. Henning, and am touched by the affection you obviously bear him, but the fact remains that William does not belong here. I am not going to leave my son to muck out stalls or be flattened by a pet pig.”
    “Or be reared in a humble cottage far beneath his station?”
    “Exactly. I knew that a reasonable, capable woman such as yourself would understand.”
    “That Billy, your precious William, must not be mistaken for a peasant?”
    “Now, that is not what I—”
    “By his own father.”

Chapter Four
    “I find you offensive, sir.”
    Women rarely did. Fewer said so. Still, Rockford admitted, “I can understand where you might think so, from your point of view.”
    She wrinkled her nose. “No, I find the smell of Rosie about you offensive. I still have a few shirts and such of my husband’s that I have not cut down for the boys yet. I think you and he were of a size. Would you like to borrow something for your return trip? You could change while I help Billy pack his things.”
    “I would be a hundredfold grateful, especially since my trunks will not arrive until tomorrow. But does your generosity and cooperation mean that you approve of my taking William? That you believe I am fit to have the care of my own son?”
    “Approve? Not at all. It means, rather, that I believe you shall go your own way no matter what I or anyone else thinks. I doubt you ever let anyone’s opinion sway you from your chosen course, no matter how misguided, so I shall save my breath. As you say, Billy is your son. As for the loan of a shirt, I merely wish to make Billy’s ride in the confines of the carriage more bearable. If you will follow me, I’ll show you where you might wash while I find the garments.”
    Rockford supposed he should be glad the woman’s weapon of choice was a pistol, not a knife, or she’d carve out his liver. She was doing a good enough job with her razor-sharp tongue, and he could not even give the outspoken female the set-down she deserved, not when she had cared for his son and was offering him a clean shirt. This indebtedness was a humbling experience, one he would be careful to avoid in the future. Meantime, he followed Mrs. Henning down the hall, away from the merry sounds of giggles and splashing.
    Being the connoisseur of art he was, he could not help assessing the watercolors that hung on the wall: better than the average amateur’s, with a certain fresh charm. Mrs. Henning could not make her way in the world as an artist, he considered, but she could earn a fair living in London, teaching young females one more womanly skill.
    Being also a connoisseur of womanhood, he could not help noticing the softly rounded curves of Mrs. Henning’s figure, nor the wispy curls of hair that trailed down her neck, escaping the neat light brown coils. Yes, she could make a fair living in London with other skills, were the widow not so deucedly respectable. Her stride was purposeful, her back was rigid, and he knew without looking that her lips were pursed in disapproval. No, his hostess, his son’s Aunt Lissie, was not to be