The hostesses of today’s afternoon tea were very serious about the proceedings. Miss Frogmore had charge of the teapot. Miss Helena Frogmore was charged with carrying each cup carefully to its intended recipient. She did it very well, though holding the tip of one’s tongue in one’s teeth as an aid to concentration was not a common sight in most drawing rooms. However, this was the nursery and Helena was only five years old, two years younger than the sister who was pouring the lemonade.
The guests were very grand: two duchesses and a baron. Mind you, the baron was not yet a year old, and one of the duchesses had him on her knee, ready to feed him his drink–which was lemonade–from a tea spoon.
Her Grace the Duchess of Winshire thought they made a pretty picture, her daughter-in-law and the infant. She prayed that the Duchess of Haverford, her son’s beloved Cherry, would be blessed one day with a child of her own, but no one looking at her clucking over the little boy would know how much she longed to fill her own cradles.
When Eleanor Winshire received the invitation to visit, she had not expected to be whisked up to the nursery floor, and entertained with lemonade and shortbread in the schoolroom. Cherry had explained. Baron Frogmore and his two sisters needed a safe place to stay, and Cherry had agreed to provide sanctuary. Tomorrow, the children’s mother was appearing in court to argue that their current guardian had no right to the place, and was abusing the trust put in him by the courts. Eleanor hoped she would win, for the wicked man had taken the children from their widowed mother, who was a delightful young woman.
If necessary, her son was going to petition the courts to be made guardian in place of the usurper, but he and Cherry hoped for a different outcome. Either way, the dear little children would have their mother back, for the Haverfords would bring Seraphina Frogmore to live with them, if need be. But Anthony and Cherry hoped Lady Frogmore would marry again, to a gentleman respected throughout the ton. Eleanor would not have believed it if she had not seen it with her own eyes. She had thought Lord Lancelot Versey to be a confirmed bachelor. However, it was clear to anyone who saw them together, that he was head over heels for the widowed baroness.
Eleanor accepted a second cup from Helena. How lovely to assist, not only in reuniting a family, but in promoting a romance.
***
In The Talons of a Lyon, Lance Versey kidnaps the three Frogmore children from the wicked couple who are attempting to abduct them from London, and takes them to the Duchess of Haverford. Here’s an excerpt from the story.
The house was so large, it took several minutes to reach the duchess’s private sitting room. Haverford poked his head around the door, and said, “I have some visitors for you, my love.” He opened the door wider, and ushered Seraphina’s two little girls in. Lance followed.
Haverford stopped the servants at the door. “Please take a chair while you wait,” he told them, and closed the door in their faces.
Lance bowed to the duke’s wife. “Your Grace, I apologize for calling unannounced.”
The duke said, “Lance has, I deduce, come for our help to hide his crimes. He has stolen Lady Frogmore’s children back from their wicked uncle.”
Helena tugged on Lance’s coat. “Have you? Are you going to give us back to Mama?” She had removed her bonnet, and the blonde plaits that confined her hair had tumbled down.
As if of their own volition, his arms tightened on little Harry, and the boy wriggled. Lance made himself relax. He did not need to protect the children against all comers. Not here in the duchess’s private sitting room.
The duchess will have them, will she not? He raised his eyebrows in question, and Her Grace exchanged glances with her husband and then nodded.
“Will we have to wait for very long?” Hannah asked, her voice girlish but her question suprisingly mature. “Harry needs her. We tell him about her every night after the governess goes to bed, but I think he has forgotten her.”
“You shall see her soon,” Haverford declared. “You do not appear to be worried about Lord Lancelot kidnapping you, young ladies.”
Helena shrugged. “We recognized him. He is the man who comes every morning to the park with Mama. She used to hide behind the bushes, so sad.” She drooped her shoulders and poked out a trembling lower lip to illustrate. “We would slow down as much as we dared, but Miss Brant, the governess, would hit us with her switch if we did not keep walking. I do not think Miss Brant ever saw her.”
Hannah nodded, and commented, “Then Lord Lance started bringing her, and soon she was not so sad.”
Helena continued. “Miss Brant said we would never see Mama again, but we saw her every day. Miss Brant said she had forgotten us, but we knew she had not. We knew she was afraid of Miss Brant and Uncle Marcus, so we did not tell them she came to watch us. When you helped us into the coach today—” she smiled up at Lance— “we knew Mama sent you. I am so glad. I like you, Lord Lance.”
Lance had a lump in his throat which needed to be swallowed before he could reply. A welcome interruption allowed him time to recover. Little Lord Harry struggled to be put down, and then set off at great speed across the floor, not so much crawling as wriggling like a caterpillar. His destination was a kitten, who had just stepped out from behind the duchess’s couch. The kitten, alarmed perhaps by the intent look in Lord Harry’s eyes, shot up one of the curtains, and Harry stopped, hoisted himself into a sitting position, and looked balefully around the room as if the kitten’s escape must be someone else’s fault.
