Oliver rushed to the door and flung it back. Serena stood in the farthest corner of the chamber, trembling, Duke stood in another, also trembling.
Rebecca let out a sigh. “I keep telling you, Serena, Duke is the gentlest of pets. He won’t bite. Are you sure you don’t wish to become more acquainted with him?” Rebecca had been doing her best to convince Serena to assist in bathing the dog to no avail.
“Thank you, my lady, but”—she wrinkled her nose—“he smells frightful.”
“I’ll help, milady.” Oliver spoke but Owen was at his side, their hopeful expressions identical.
“Of course, you will help. In fact, I am here in a guiding capacity only.” Rebecca turned to the young men hoisting a copper tub. A line of girls followed, carrying pails of steaming water. The owner’s wife followed last with a stack of towels and soap.
“I brung ye a cup to dip the water,” the woman said. She had a kind smile, and Rebecca hoped her husband would not retaliate against her. There were some that did. She would let Ryleigh know to watch for anything suspicious.
Rebecca accepted her offerings with a grateful smile. “I know washing a dog inside is an unusual request, so I thank you for your tolerance. My sons saved him from a dire fate.”
“Not a’tall, yer grace. ’Tis our pleasure to serve ye.”
“Could we trouble you for some tea?”
“Of course, ma’am. I’ll send it right up. Yer dinner will be awaiting at seven.” She bowed herself out of the room.”
Stunned, Rebecca stared at the closing door on her departure. Your Grace? “Oh, dear. Ryleigh won’t be happy with that.” The whimpering dog snapped her attention and she spun around. “I’ll pick him up, Owen.”
Giving a dog an unwanted bath was messy business, Rebecca soon learned. She was on her knees with a boy on each side of her. And water everywhere. The laughter was so loud and so infectious, Rebecca almost missed the knock at the door. “We have the beast secured, Serena. That will be the tea,” she called out over the racket. She didn’t bother restraining her grin as Serena skirted by, her eye on Duke. He looked like an adorable, drowned rat, if a drowned rat could look adorable.
Slowly, the room went quiet and Rebecca glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, hello, Your Grace. Is there a problem?”
“The inn is being inundated with water-logged travelers. I’ve brought your luggage.”
“Heavens, how utterly… mundane of you,” she said.
“And, admittedly, I was curious at all the noise,” he said as if she hadn’t spoken. He stepped over the threshold and deposited hers and Serena’s portmanteaus and two knapsacks in a chair by the window. He pointed to Duke. “Why, it is a dog. I hardly recognize him.”
“Hmm, a jest from his grace. I hardly recognize him,” Rebecca said under her breath.
Oliver giggled, an engaging sound as she’d ever heard.
The duke strolled over, leaned down until his forehead practically touched hers. “Did you say something, Lady Rebecca?” he asked softly.
“I’ve just never heard witticism from you,” she retorted. “It’s quite stunning, frankly.”
“You think I’ve no sense of humor?”
“No.” The word slipped out before she could stop it. She gave an inward shrug. It wasn’t as if he could do anything about it.
He maintained his stance for a good minute, then said, “I see.” He lowered to one knee despite the water on the ground, took the cup from Oliver’s slack fingers, and dipped it in the tub. Then proceeded to pour it over her head.
All mayhem broke loose.
Owen and Oliver gasped.
Shocked, Rebecca fell back on her hindside, sputtering. She swiped the water from her eyes and snatched the cup from him, scooped it through the water and dashed it in his direction, catching him full on the face.
Peals of laughter rippled throughout the chamber.
Rebecca slowly turned in the direction of Owen, barely aware that Ryleigh did too. She pulled Owen into her arms. “Owen?”
He blinked as if surprised that half the laughter had come from himself.
Another knock at the door startled everyone into taking a breath. It was audible.
Duke, the dog, however, had had enough. He jumped from the tub and shook his entire water-logged body, drenching everyone within close proximity. Meaning, Serena was the only one spared.
“I fear we’re going to need more towels,” Rebecca told the innkeeper’s wife.
Rebecca could hardly restrain her curiosity. As quickly as she could manage, without offending anyone, she was able to retrieve Duke, finish rinsing him, drying him, then shooing Ryleigh from the chamber. She put the boys to the task of wiping up the floor.
“Serena, why don't you and Oliver take Duke outside and let him do his business.” She took the dog’s chin between her fingers, addressing him directly. “That does not include rolling in the mud.”
Serena did not look happy but there was nothing Rebecca could do about that. She couldn’t be everywhere at once. The one person she could count on in this case was Oliver. After the trio left the chamber, Rebecca turned to Owen. She took his hand and led him to a chair at the small table. “Owen, you realize you are safe now, don’t you? That mean man in London won’t dare come after you. Not with Ryleigh about.”
His hesitation was only slight, and he nodded.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
Large tears sat on his lashes but didn’t spill over.
She set one of the knapsacks from the chair on the floor and scooted the chair around and sat where she faced him. “I know this might not make sense, darling, but talking about bad things will help dispel the nightmares.”
Disbelief wrinkled his forehead.
“It’s true,” she insisted. “When I was young. Somewhere near your age, I believe. I witnessed something truly horrid.”
“What?” he whispered.
“My governess, Miss Velinda. She had taken me to study some plants near a creek. I ran ahead of her—” Rebecca swallowed hard, her eyes on hers and Owen’s clasped fingers. “Some bad men came upon her. They attacked her.”
“Why din’th they attack you?”
She lifted her gaze to his worried blue eyes. “They didn’t see me,” she whispered, dropping her eyes back down. “I ran to the village for help, but by the time I arrived with help, the men were gone. I had nightmares for years until my Aunt Isolde took me aside and dragged the whole terrible ordeal out of me.” She met his eyes again. “I felt guilty because I was too late to help her.”
“Did she die?”
“Not for a long time,” Rebecca said softly. There was so much more to the story that she couldn’t tell him. She drew in a deep breath. “Anyway, a few years later, there was another governess. One who could see things weren’t quite right—”
“Like what?” he whispered.
Rebecca paused. “Well,” she said slowly, thinking back. “I was very angry. In ways I didn’t understand. And, scared too, I believe.” She blinked and, looking down, registered the confusion in his expression. “I couldn’t save her. Even with help from the village, I was too… too late. I could hardly eat. I had horrendous nightmares in the little time I did sleep. My temper grew unmanageable. My father didn’t know what to do with me. He finally sent me to school. Likely to give himself some peace. But something changed when I got to school and met my very good friend Gabby.”
“What did she do, your friend Gabby?”
“She got me to talk. I told her what happened, and the change was miraculous. I was still sad about Miss Velinda, but when the words came out of my mouth, I realized I could look at what happened with some well-needed perspective. Gabby reminded me how young and little I was. She said the villains would likely have had me too.” Rebecca leaned closer to him. “Is this making the least bit of sense?”
She waited with her breath held. What did she truly know about helping a child except correlating it to her own experience?
“Yeth,” he said quietly.
“After I told my friend what happened, I was suddenly able to sleep. And food never tasted so good.” She squeezed Owen’s hand. “I know you can talk, darling. Your vocal chords are working. I heard you laugh.”
He blinked and a large tear fell over, sliding down his cheek.
Rebecca waited.
“He kilt thomeone.” His whisper was so low, had she not been leaning in, she couldn’t have made out the words.
“That bad man who was after Oliver?”
Owen nodded.
“He thought he was chasing you, didn’t he? He didn’t know you had a twin.”
“Yeth,” again the minutest sound.
“I don’t suppose you know who the man was he hurt?”
He shook his head.
“Was this at Vauxhall?”
“Yeth. He wath a gentleman.”
Rebecca thought of Finch Cromwell. Ill-dressed and a man from the dregs of London, who’d charged her and Oliver in St. James Park. A gentleman? That, she was not so sure of. Not impossible, of course. While she knew the nobility attended Vauxhall, they didn’t usually mingle with the commoners, but she kept her opinions to herself. One thing she was learning about these twins, they were inordinately sharp. “Did the mean man do anything, anything to hurt you, Owen?”
He shook his head. “I run fath’d.”
She scooped him up in her arms and hugged him as tight as she could, thrilled and touched when his arms went around her neck and he clung back just as tightly. “I’m so glad, darling. So, so very glad.”
Sebastian straightened away from the door, disturbed by the few words he’d been able to make out. Rebecca’s governess had been attacked and she’d been nearby. His heart pounded so hard against his ribs, he thought they would break. At the least, they would be badly bruised. He made a mental note to learn what happened to the culprits. He moved away from the door, glancing about.
And met the shrewd eyes of one Peter Thatcher. Before he could utter a word, the boy dashed down the stairs after his caretaker.