“Oh?” Caution edged out innocence in his eyes.

Obviously, Grayson hadn’t thought that far ahead. “As we can’t send them back, and we can’t turn them out in the cold, and as there is not enough staff to properly see to their needs, their care shall fall to all of us.” She smiled. “Including you.”

“Oh, but I like children.” His smile matched hers. “I have always planned to have children of my own.”

“As have I.” She turned to Beryl. “You need to keep in mind, dear, they are only children. They are not savages from the wilds of Africa. They are, no doubt, quite civilized and probably well trained. Think of them as nothing more than short people.”

Beryl stared at her for a long moment; then set her shoulders bravely as if preparing for battle. “Yes, of course.” She patted a stray strand of hair back into place. “I don’t know what came over me. Sheer numbers, I suppose. They swarmed in like rats and scattered.” She cast an apprehensive look at the house behind her. “I don’t know where they are now.”

“Then we shall have to locate them and gather them all together.” She hooked her elbow through her sister’s arm and started for the door. “There haven’t been children in this house at Christmas since Delilah was a child. It might be great fun to have them here. Why, we can play games and read stories, and they can help in the decorations. And, oh, Mrs. Fortesque does seem like the type that would enjoy nothing better than making Christmas sweets for little ones. Oh, my, yes. This will all work out beautifully.” She glanced back at Grayson. “Thank you, Grayson, this was indeed an excellent idea.”

“Just trying to help.” His smile was less smug than it was a moment ago.

“Oh yes, excellent,” Beryl muttered. “God bless us, everyone.”

Fourteen

Fourteen

Even without Beryl’s warning, Camille would have known there were children in the house the moment the door opened. The air was filled with the sound of children’s voices and peals of laughter. On the staircase leading to the foyer, five little boys of varying ages slid down the banisters with squeals of delight. A maid at the top of the stairs tried, with no success, to grab the children. A footman at the bottom stared as if he wasn’t sure if he should stop them, catch them or join them.

“Lady Lydingham.” Fortesque appeared seemingly from nowhere. His clothes were disheveled; his few remaining strands of hair were out of order; there was a wild look in his eyes. “There has been a new development.”

“I am well aware of that, Fortesque.” She handed him her muff and pulled off her hat. “But it is nothing we can’t handle.”

“I don’t . . . We can’t . . .” The actor sputtered and couldn’t seem to get a complete sentence out.