It wasn’t uncommon for Daisy to do so. In lieu of a governess or nurse, she often attached herself to the boys’ lessons, reading along from her primer as they worked with Mr. Beecham on more difficult subjects.

“We shouldn’t have lessons this morning,” Charlie said.

Julia glanced back at him as she selected a sausage. “Why not?”

“We have a carriage now,” Charlie replied.

What seemed to be a non sequitur was at once explained by Alfred. “We should go into Hardholme. There’s sweets at Taggert’s Market.”

Daisy perked up immediately. “I want sweets!”

Returning to the table, Julia exchanged a look with Mr. Beecham. “Would Captain Blunt object to our driving into Hardholme?”

Mr. Beecham frowned. “I don’t rightly know, ma’am.”

“Does he often take the children into the village?” she asked, sitting down in her chair.

“Not regularly, no.”

“He didn’t need to take us,” Charlie said. “We boarded there during the school term.”

“You stayed at the school?” Julia reached for the teapot. “I didn’t realize.”

“Mr. Filbert takes on boarders from the outlying estates,” Mr. Beecham explained. “It was easier for the boys to stay on rather than have them traveling ten miles in the dogcart every day. Musket wouldn’t have tolerated it.”

“But we have a carriage now,” Charlie said again. “With two sound horses.”

Alfred nodded eagerly. “And a coachman. He can drive us.”

Julia’s brows knit with indecision. She hadn’t envisioned going into the village anytime soon. Certainly not without Jasper’s escort. The prospect of meeting strangers—of being stared at and whispered over—was enough to make her stomach tremble with anxiety.

But she wasn’t the same person she’d been in London.

She wasn’t Julia Wychwood anymore. She was Mrs. Julia Blunt. A different creature altogether.

Hadn’t that always been a dream of hers? To go to a new place and start afresh? To reinvent herself as someone new—someone confident? It had been an appealing fantasy.

Not so much in reality.

Even so . . .

“It may be nice to do a little shopping,” she conceded. “Is there a draper in Hardholme?”

“There’s a shop,” Mr. Beecham replied. “Orrick’s Emporium. It’s run by Mr. Orrick and his wife. They’ve silks and woolens, and a selection of gloves and ribbons and such like.”

“It’s Taggert’s that has sweets,” Alfred reiterated. “Peppermints kept in jars on the counter.”

“What about a tailor or dressmaker?” Julia asked.

Charlie’s expression darkened with suspicion. “What need have we of those?”

Julia cast a meaningful glance at his and Alfred’s clothing. Their little coats were too short at the sleeves and their trousers were too short at the ankles. Daisy was in no better trim. She’d stained or torn nearly every garment in her possession.

“When did the three of you last have new clothes?” Julia asked.

Beecham answered in their stead: “It was last autumn, ma’am. Captain Blunt saw to it himself. It’s not his fault the boys are growing like weeds.”

“It’s no one’s fault, except mother nature’s, I daresay.” Julia sipped her tea. She had a goodly amount of money tucked away in her reticule. More than enough to outfit the children—and herself—with a few necessities. “Very well,” she said. “We’ll go into the village, and I’ll even purchase you each some sweets, but you must agree to be fitted for new garments.”