“Neither. He went to the Westerfield Academy. It’s a very small and very good school for boys of good birth and bad behavior.”

“Kirkland studied there?” She glanced up with surprise. “I wonder what kind of bad behavior he indulged in. I’m having trouble imagining it.”

“He was probably planning to take over the Houses of Parliament or some such,” Lucas replied with a smile. “It wouldn’t have been anything trivial like gambling in the stables with the grooms.”

She laughed. “I wonder if I dare ask him?”

“Better you than I!”

The tea tray arrived and Kendra poured for both of them. The shortbread lived up to its reputation. Lucas was reaching for his third piece when a small knock sounded on the front door.

The Browns were still out, so Lucas rose and crossed into the hall to answer it. A small and very scruffy boy stood on the front step. A boy with chestnut hair and changeable eyes.

The boy said politely, “Is Lady Denshire here?”

At the sound of the boy’s voice, Kendra bolted in from the drawing room. “Christopher!”

“Mama!” The boy hurled himself into her arms and hugged her as if she was saving him from drowning.

Tears were rolling down Kendra’s cheeks as she whispered, “Oh, Kit, my darling boy! I was afraid I might never see you again.”

He was clinging to her like a limpet. “Papa said you were wicked and I should have nothing to do with you!”

“Your father was wrong,” Lucas said as he ushered them both toward the drawing room so he could close the front door.

Having been a small boy once himself, he asked, “Would you like tea and shortbread, Christopher?”

“Oh, yes, sir, please!” the boy said. “I’m starving!”

Kendra laughed and pulled him down on the sofa beside her, keeping one arm around him. “I’m happy to see that your appetite hasn’t changed! How did you get here?”

“The school was in Yorkshire and it was horrid.” Christopher took a piece of shortbread from the plate. Since Kendra had finished her tea, Lucas used her cup, guessing that the boy would prefer to have his tea quickly rather than to wait for a new cup to be delivered.

Christopher accepted the teacup, but his brows furrowed as he stared at Lucas. “Who are you, sir?”

“My name is Lucas Mandeville and I’m a friend of your mother’s,” he replied. “We met many years ago before I left for my first posting in the Royal Navy.”

“And a very good friend he has been.” Kendra’s arm tightened around her son’s shoulders. “I’ve needed friends since your father divorced me.”

Christopher took two more pieces of shortbread. “Divorce means never having to see him?”