Indeed, life at Markham Hall was quite informal as Nathanial came to see when he rose the next morning.
Breakfast not only included the lord and lady of the house as well as Charlaine and himself, but also Daphne and Susan as well as Miss Glass, the governess, and Caroline’s lady’s maid, Sarah. First names were used by all around, except for Miss Glass, who addressed Lord Markham−or Pierce−by his title, her pale eyes rather flitting, whispering of a certain unease. While she seemed utterly devoted to the family, the young woman appeared similarly taken aback by the lack of formality even after three years in the household.
Nathanial wondered if he would ever get used to it.
“What plan do you have for today?” Caroline asked Daphne and Susan, a warm smile upon her face. “I’ve been hearing whispers of an excursion to the lake.” She looked from one girl to the other.
Miss Glass dropped her gaze, a hint of red coming to her cheeks.
Apparently, the girls had successfully led the young woman on a wild goose chase the day before while they had sneaked off to the lake. Only when they had all returned to the house had she realized what had happened. Indeed, Miss Glass appeared much too tender-hearted to anticipate the devilish thoughts that currently ran through those mischief-makers’ little heads.
“We want to catch some frogs,” Susan reported proudly, which earned her yet another elbow jab from Daphne. The girl rubbed her side, frowning at her playmate. “What? We do.”
Pierce leaned forward, frowning, the look on his face a bit grim. “Daphne, I do not want you to treat Susan in this manner. If you disagree with what she does, then you are free to speak to her about it. However, there is never a good enough reason to harm a friend, do you understand?”
Daphne bowed her head. “Yes, Father.” Then she looked at Susan. “Sorry, Sue. I didn’t mean it, but you need to learn to hold your tongue.” Then she looked at Pierce.
Her father chuckled. “Better. Thank you.”
“Why do you want to catch frogs?” Caroline asked with great interest.
This time, however, Susan did hold her tongue, her wide eyes going to Daphne.
Daphne shrugged. “You might as well tell them now. The cat’s out of the bag anyhow.”
With a bit of a contrite look upon her face, Susan lay down their plans for securing themselves a prince each. “But first we need the frogs.” She sighed. “I’ve never even seen one even though their loud croaking sometimes keeps me up.”
“Have any of you ever caught one?” Daphne asked, looking at the adults seated around the table.
Miss Glass immediately shook her head while Pierce laughed. “As a boy, I sometimes did with my friend, Ash. Although he was by far better at it than me.”
“Why?” Daphne demanded.
Pierce smiled at her. “I never had the patience for it. You need to be very quiet and move slowly or they’ll just hop away.” He looked from Daphne to Susan. “If you don’t want them to see you coming, you need to be stealthy, focused and know how to bide your time.”
Susan frowned. “What does stealthy mean?”
“It means you cannot let them hear or see you,” Daphne explained much to everyone’s surprise, which was quite evident by widened eyes and dropped jaws. Upon seeing everyone’s reaction, the girl’s gaze narrowed. “What? I know things. I’m not a little girl anymore.”
“Of course not, my dear,” Caroline assured her. “And do you have a plan?”
The girl’s face darkened. “We were hoping Nathanial had an idea.” Her gaze moved to him, and Nathanial almost choked on his tea.
Charlaine grinned. “Yes, Nathanial. Do you have an idea?”
Nathanial resisted the urge to kick Charlaine’s shin under the table. However, the sudden impulse to do something so utterly childish made him pause. Where had it come from? It seemed the lively discussion around the breakfast table reminded him of his own childhood. “Perhaps a net would be useful.”
Daphne’s eyes lit up. “That’s a marvelous idea!” she exclaimed, eagerness on her face. “Nathanial, you’re so clever.”
To his utter humiliation, Nathanial could feel his face flush red, and to make matters worse, Charlaine leaned in and whispered teasingly, “Indeed, so very clever.”
Nathanial glared at her. “Are you mocking me?”
“I would never!” she replied with mock outrage.
“Yes, you would.”
She frowned. “Well, then I suppose I might be.”
“Do you hear yourself? Why are you doing this?” He shook his head at her.
“I would never mock to hurt you, but only to…”
“To what?” he demanded in a hushed tone.
“To see you smile.” Her hand settled on his, and her eyes shone with warmth and affection as she looked at him. “Little Daphne just paid you a compliment,” Charlaine told him with a sideways glance at the girl, “and you act as though you wish to run from the room. Has no on ever paid you a compliment?”
Nathanial sighed. Not in a long time.
“Father, do you have a net?” Daphne asked, her little hands clapping together with enthusiasm.
“Donahue might have one.”
Nathanial looked at Charlaine. “Donahue?”
“Markham Hall’s butler,” she explained, and Nathanial remembered the tall, bearded man with the missing arm. He had seemed like a hulking giant if it had not been for the merry twinkle in his green eyes. Indeed, Markham Hall was a strange place, not at all how Nathanial had expected the English aristocracy to live. Then again, he doubted that the ton at large ran their households quite like Pierce and Caroline did.
“This is a strange place,” he whispered out loud, surprised to realize that a part of him rather liked it.
Charlaine chuckled. “Like out of a fairy tale, is it not?”
Smiling at her, Nathanial nodded. “Perhaps you’re right and the girls will find two princes to marry them after all.”
After breakfast, Daphne and Susan dashed off to search for Donahue while Charlaine all but ordered Miss Glass to take the day off. “Don’t worry. We will look after the girls,” she promised her, glancing back at him over her shoulder.
Nathanial once again felt the urge to run from the room.
After a few more convincing words, Miss Glass finally agreed and, with a quick bow to Pierce and Caroline, left the room.
“What are you up to?” Pierce asked as he stepped toward Charlaine, his gaze narrowed in suspicion.
“To catch frogs,” she told him with a smile. “What were you thinking?”
He laughed. “With you, one never knows.” Then he brushed an affectionate hand over her shoulder. “Have fun.” He looked at Nathanial. “Good luck,” Pierce told him with a meaningful smirk before he escorted his wife out of the room.
Rubbing her hands together, Charlaine turned to look at him. “I’ll ask Mrs. Colden to pack us a picnic−”
“We just ate,” Nathanial threw in.
“−and you should change.”
Nathanial frowned, glancing down over his attire. “What is wrong with what I’m wearing?”
Charlaine laughed, then paused. “Oh, you’re serious?”
Nathanial crossed his arms over his chest and did his best to glare at her.
As always, it did not make the slightest bit of an impression on her. “We’re going out to the lake to hunt for frogs,” she told him, drawing out each word as though he were slow of understanding, “and you intend to go in a jacket and necktie?” She scrunched up her nose in a most disagreeable gesture. “Oh, and forget the shoes as well.”
Nathanial moaned. “You cannot be serious.”
“Oh, I always am.”
“You never are,” he corrected, getting annoyed with her. “I’m not taking off my shoes!”
“Fine,” Charlaine relented. “Suit yourself.” Nevertheless, she came toward him and began to loosen his necktie. “But everything else is not optional. You’ll die of heat stroke if you wear all these layers.” She grinned up at him. “And then who would catch the frogs?”
“You want me to−?”
“It was your idea.”
Nathanial did his best to ignore the way her nimble fingers brushed against his skin as she worked to free him of the noose around his neck. “And it’s still early,” he argued simply to have something to say. “It wouldn’t be warm enough yet to−” His voice broke off as she pulled the necktie from around his neck, then moved to remove his jacket. She flung both items over the back of a chair. “The sleeves,” she said, pointing at him.
Again, Nathanial frowned. “What about them?”
“Up with them,” she ordered and then reached for his left arm before he had a chance to object. In a moment, she had the button undone and then rolled up the fabric all the way to his elbow. She then did the same with his right arm.
Nathanial stood stock-still, a hint of shock rooting him to the spot.
Although he had touched her before−while dancing or walking in the park; she had even thrown herself into his arms upon his arrival−Nathanial could not shake that nervous tingle he felt when her hands brushed over his skin, warm and soft. It felt strangely intimate−in a completely different way−that she was removing his clothes, even though it was only his jacket and necktie. His breath lodged in his throat, and he could not seem to bring himself to look at her, staring at something on the opposite wall he could not even identify.
“Is something wrong?”
Nathanial felt her gaze move to his face. Still, he did not dare meet her eyes. “I’m fine. Why?”
Charlaine chuckled. “You’re not breathing,” she observed, an amused tone in her voice. “Wait? Are you ticklish? Are you trying not to laugh?”
As she reached out−no doubt to test her theory−Nathanial caught her wrists in his hands. “Don’t you dare!” he warned. The warm glow upon her face teased a smile from his lips.
“Why not?”
“For the same reason I intend to keep on my shoes.”
Her gaze narrowed. “You’re a harder nut to crack than I thought.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Yes and no,” she replied with a shrug, then spun on her heel, her hands slipping through his, and marched toward the door. “Are you coming?” she called over her shoulder, waving him onward. “Do you think I should try to catch a frog for myself?”
Catching up to her, Nathanial frowned. “I’m not certain a frog would make a good pet.”
Charlaine laughed. “Not as a pet.” Her gaze swept the terrace as they stepped out into the sunshine. “To kiss.” She grinned at him. “Perhaps a prince of my own is precisely what I need.”
Laughing, she raced after Daphne and Susan, who were already halfway down the small slope that led to the grove and the lake behind. Daphne had a net with a long handle flung over her shoulder, which dwarfed the little girl in an odd way. Still, she held it proudly like a soldier riding into battle, brandishing his sword.
A prince of my own.
For a reason Nathanial could not name, Charlaine’s words continued to echo in his head.
And he could not say he liked them.