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additional groceries you want for you and Noelle. They’ll see you get them.”
    â€œExcellent.” Brigitte’s eyes sparkled. “You may leave us now, my lord.”
    Eric’s lips twitched ever so slightly. “Clearly, I can.”
    With a mystified glance from Brigitte to Noelle, he swerved and headed down the hall toward the east wing.
    â€œHe likes you,” Noelle piped up.
    â€œPardon me?”
    â€œUncle. He likes you.”
    Brigitte folded her arms across her chest. “Really. How do you know that?”
    A matter-of-fact shrug. “The way he looks at you. And even though you made him mad, he almost smiled after he chest-ized you.”
    â€œAh. I see.”
    â€œYou like him, too. Don’t you?”
    Brigitte gazed wistfully after Eric’s retreating back. “Yes, Noelle, I do. Very much.”
    â€œHow come you don’t lie?”
    â€œWhat?” Brigitte’s attention snapped back to her inquisitive young charge.
    â€œGrown-ups always lie.”
    â€œNot all grown-ups. And certainly not always.”
    â€œYou’re different,” Noelle countered. “You don’t lie. You don’t talk to me like I’m too dumb to understand. You don’t ignore Fuzzy. And you don’t even hate me.”
    â€œHate you?” Brigitte felt a knife twist in her heart. “Why would anyone hate you? You’re intelligent, witty, and spirited.”
    Another shrug. “Papa hated me. I heard Mrs. Lawley say he never even wanted to meet me. ’Course, Mrs. Lawley hated me, too—just like all the other families who brought me back to Farrington. And Uncle? He hates me most of all. He never keeps me for more than a day. Then he finds another family for me to live with. But they always return me, and it starts again.” Noelle stared at the tip of her shoe. “My mama didn’t hate me. I could tell in the picture of her I saw. She was too beautiful to hate me. But she’s dead. That’s probably why I’m beyond re-damn-sin.” Noelle’s lashes lifted, and she inclined her head quizzically “What’s re-damn-sin?”
    Brigitte wasn’t certain she could speak. “Who said you were beyond redemption?”
    â€œMrs. Lawley. What does it mean?”
    â€œIt means Mrs. Lawley is a terrible judge of character,” Brigitte managed, striving for control.
    â€œIs she beyond re-damn-sin?”
    â€œI hope not. But at this moment, I’m not at all certain.”
    â€œHer dog is. He tried to bite Fuzzy.” Noelle considered the matter. “Whatever re-damn-sin is, it must be a very bad thing to be. It has two wicked words in it—well, really only one. ‘Sin’ is only bad when you do it; saying it doesn’t count. ‘Damn’ is bad all the time.”
    Thank God for Noelle’s precociousness, Brigitte reflected as she dissolved into laughter. Without it, she might have stormed over to Mrs. Lawley’s house and slapped the woman across her thoughtless face—she and all the othersupposedly fine, decent families Noelle had been subjected to these past four years.
    The truth was, this remarkable child had been passed about like a sack of grain, given only food, clothing, and a roof over her head.
    Meager substitutes for encouragement, constancy, and love.
    Suddenly, Brigitte knew what she must do.
    â€œNeither of those words, wicked or otherwise, pertains to you.” She grasped Noelle’s hand, leading her back inside the blue room. “Let’s select appropriate romping clothes for you, shall we?” Squatting on the floor, she opened the traveling bag, assessing Noelle’s meager wardrobe.
    Clothing was the farthest thing from her mind.
    â€œYou know, Noelle, your uncle doesn’t hate you,” she remarked offhandedly. “In fact, I think he loves you more than he knows. More, in fact, than he wants to.”
    The last captured