night in her room—actually on her bed much of the time—and got her up early to go outside again. At least, she had discovered with some relief, he was house-trained. Susanna and Peter had been remarkably tolerant about the sudden invasion of their home by a scruffy dog, but they might have been less so of puddles on their carpets. And this was the very morning Edna and Flora were to leave the house on Grosvenor Square to take up their new appointments. Bidding them farewell and waving them on their way in Peter’s carriage, Edna tearful, Flora unusually quiet, was as emotionally wrenching as such occasions always were. This was Claudia’s least favorite part of her job. Then, just as she and Susanna were consoling themselves with a cup of tea, there was an unexpected visit from Frances, who came to tell them that she and Lucius had decided to leave for Barclay Court, their home in Somersetshire, the following morning so that she could get the rest she needed for the remainder of her confinement. “But you must come to visit us afterward,” she said. “Both of you must come for Easter—and Peter too, of course. We will entertain the three of you together.” “Why only three?” Susanna asked, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Why not four? Claudia is going out for a drive with Joseph, Marquess of Attingsborough, this afternoon, Frances, for the second day in a row. And they are both to be at Vauxhall Gardens this evening with Lauren and Kit’s party. And did you know that the reason we could not find her at the garden party the day before yesterday was that she was out on the river with him?” “Oh, famous!” Frances said, clapping her hands. “I have always thought the marquess a handsome and charming gentleman. I must confess I find it hard to understand his interest in Miss Hunt—a personal bias, I daresay. But Claudia, you simply must supplant her in his affections.” “But she cannot, Frances,” Susanna said, her eyes wide. “It is out of the question. He will be a duke one day, and you know how Claudia feels about dukes.” Both of them laughed merrily while Claudia raised her eyebrows and stroked her hand over the back of the dog, who was curled up beside her, his head in her lap. “I see you are having a great deal of enjoyment at my expense,” she said, desperately hoping she could keep herself from blushing. “I hate to ruin your pleasure, but there is absolutely no romantic motive whatsoever behind Lord Attingsborough’s taking me driving and boating. He is simply interested in the school and in education…for girls.” The explanation sounded ridiculously lame, but how could she tell the truth even to her closest friends? She would thereby divulge a secret that was not hers to tell. They looked at her with identical sober expressions before looking at each other. “In the school, Susanna,” Frances said. “In education, Frances,” Susanna said. “For girls.” “It makes all the sense in the world. Why did we not guess for ourselves?” They went off into peals of merry laughter. “But let us not forget about the Duke of McLeith,” Susanna said. “Another duke. He insists that he and Claudia were like brother and sister when they were growing up, but they are adults now. He is very personable, did you not think, Frances?” “And a widower,” Frances added. “And he was very eager to see Claudia again when Lucius and I were still at the garden party.” “If I were the two of you,” Claudia said, “I would not buy new gowns for my wedding just yet.” “Your cheeks are pink,” Frances said, getting to her feet. “We have embarrassed you, Claudia. But really, I do wish…Oh, well, never mind. I daresay you have no love to spare from that little dog at the moment. He is dreadfully thin, is he not?” She bent to tickle him beneath his chin. “You should have seen him yesterday,” Susanna said. “He was scruffy and dirty and looked rather like an abandoned sewer rat—or so Peter claimed. But we have all fallen in love with him.” The dog raised his eyes to Claudia without lifting his head and sighed deeply. “That is the trouble,” Claudia said. “Love is not always a comfortable or convenient thing. Whatever am I to do with him? Take him back to school with me? The girls would riot.” “Apparently Edna and Flora almost quarreled last evening while we were out,” Susanna said. “They both wanted to hold him at the same time and pet him and play with him.” Frances laughed. “I must be on my way,” she said. “I promised Lucius I would be home for luncheon.” And then there were all the hugs and good-byes to go through again, just as painful as the ones earlier. It might be a long time before either Claudia or Susanna saw Frances again. And she had all the dangers of a confinement to go through before then. Claudia felt quite in need of a rest by the time the morning came to an end. But she had to take the dog for a walk before leaving him in the care of the kitchen staff for the afternoon—a charge they undertook cheerfully. Indeed, the little collie would soon be fat if left for long to the tender ministrations of Susanna’s cook. But despite a certain weariness, most of it emotional, Claudia was looking forward to the picnic in Richmond Park or Kew Gardens with the Marquess of Attingsborough and his daughter. She knew she must keep reminding herself that in a sense it was just work—looking over a prospective pupil. And it was not an easy task she had been set. She liked Lizzie Pickford. She also felt desperately sorry for her. But that was an emotion to be quelled. Nothing could be gained from pity alone. The real question was, could she do anything for the child? Could her school offer anything of value to a blind girl? She was looking forward to the afternoon nevertheless, and not entirely because of Lizzie. Despite all the distractions of last evening and this morning, she had been unable to keep her mind entirely off that conversation she had had with the Marques of Attingsborough in Hyde Park. He had made some startling revelations. So had she. He had actually told her in so many words that he had been celibate for more than two years! And she had told him…Well, it was better not even to think about that. Maybe, if she was very fortunate indeed, he had forgotten.
They went to Richmond Park. They drove there in a closed carriage, Lizzie sitting close to Joseph’s side while Miss Martin sat facing them. Lizzie said nothing, but she clung to his hand and sometimes patted it or his knee with her free hand. He knew she was both excited and nervous. “Lizzie has never ventured far from home,” he explained to Miss Martin. “Her mother thought it best that she remain in familiar surroundings, where she feels safe.” Miss Martin nodded, her eyes upon his daughter. “We all do that most of our lives,” she said, “though our familiar surroundings usually consist of a broader compass than just a house and garden. It is good to feel safe. It is also good to step out into the unknown on occasion. How else can we grow and acquire knowledge and experience and wisdom? And the unknown is not always or even often unsafe.” He squeezed Lizzie’s hand and she pressed the side of her head against his arm. When they arrived at the park he led her inside. The footman who had accompanied the carriage spread a large blanket on the grass in the shade of an ancient oak tree and then fetched the picnic basket before returning to the carriage. “Shall we sit?” Joseph suggested. “Is anyone ready for tea yet? Or shall we wait until later?” Lizzie let go of his hand in order to drop to her knees and feel the blanket around her. She was still very quiet. And yet he knew that she would talk about this afternoon for days to come. He had never taken her for a picnic before. He had allowed Sonia to set the rules and had unconsciously concurred with them—his beloved blind child was to be protected at all costs. But why had he never given her a treat like this before? “Oh, let us wait until later,” Miss Martin said. “Should we not go for a walk first and get some exercise? It is such a lovely day and such a lovely park.” Joseph frowned at her. Lizzie turned a panicked face up to him and clutched the blanket with both hands. “But I do not know where we are,” she said. “I do not know where to go. Papa?” She lifted one hand and searched the air with it. “I am here,” he said, stooping down and taking her hand in his, while Miss Martin stood there, very straight and very still, her hands clasped at her waist. For an irrational moment he resented her. “A walk is probably a good idea. We might as well have had a picnic in the garden if we are not to make the most of all this space. We will go just a little way, sweetheart. I’ll draw your hand snugly through my arm like this, and you will be as safe as you can possibly be.” He raised her to her feet as he spoke. She was so small and thin, he thought. Surely she was small for her age. They moved slowly and haltingly forward, Lizzie’s arm tense within his. He could almost read Miss Martin’s thoughts as she moved beside them. How could this child possibly be ready for school? And indeed, how could she? He was wasting Miss Martin’s time. But then she spoke up, her voice firm but not ungentle. “Lizzie,” she said, “we are walking along a straight and lengthy avenue of smooth green grass with great old trees on either side. There are no obstacles to cause you harm. You can step forward with absolute confidence that you will not collide with anything or step into any holes, especially as your father has hold of your arm. If you were to take mine too, I daresay we could stride along at a spanking pace and maybe even break into a run. Shall we try it?” Joseph looked over his daughter’s head at her. He found himself smiling. She was very obviously a woman accustomed to managing girls. But Lizzie looked up, pale and frightened. “Mother said I was never to leave the house and garden and that I must never walk fast,” she said. “And Miss Edwards said…” But she paused in the middle of the sentence, and before Joseph could speak, she grinned—an expression he saw far too rarely on her face. It made her look downright mischievous. “But Miss Edwards is gone. Papa sent her away this morning and gave her money for six months.” “Your mother was a wise lady,” Miss Martin told her. “You should indeed remain at home unless you are accompanied by someone you trust. And you should always walk with caution when you are alone. But today you are with your papa, whom you trust more than anyone else you have known, I daresay, and you are certainly not alone. If you hold your papa’s arm and take mine too, we will be cautious for you and see that you come to no harm. I believe your papa trusts me.” “Certainly I do,” he said, still smiling at her over Lizzie’s head. “Shall we try it?” she asked. Lizzie reached out a hand, and Miss Martin drew it through her arm. And they walked sedately onward in a tight line until Joseph realized Miss Martin was increasing the pace. He grinned and increased it even more. Lizzie, clinging tight, chuckled suddenly and then shrieked with laughter. “We really are walking,” she cried. He felt the ache of unshed tears in his
