Once an Innocent by Elizabeth Boyce

ladies’ drawing rooms.
    While Lady Whithorn gave the Monthwaite servants directions, Sir Randell and Aunt Janine eyed each other as warily as two cats circling in an alley. Jordan’s uncle stood nearly as tall as his nephew. His hair was an impressive silver mane, and the spectacles on his nose did not diminish the impact of fierce, blue eyes. A family trait, Naomi observed.
    “We expected you earlier,” Lady Whithorn commented to Jordan as they went up the stairs to the house. “Your friends have settled into their rooms.”
    “A horseshoe delayed me,” Lord Freese said. “Thankfully, the ladies accommodated me in their coach, else I’d have been even later.”
    “Tell me you aren’t still gallivanting all over the countryside on poor Phantom!” Lady Whithorn exclaimed.
    “You see?” Jordan grinned down at Naomi. “My step-mama does suffer so, on my account.”
    A squeal from the door caught Naomi’s attention an instant before a bundle of lace and feet hurtled down the walk and straight into Lord Freese’s middle.
    Startled, he wrapped his arms around the entity, which, upon stopping, sorted itself out into a young lady. Her muffled voice prattled excitedly against his chest until he pushed her back.
    “ … So happy to see you,” the girl said. “It’s been ever so long since you’ve come to the Grange. I
hoped
Mama and Papa would take me up to Town this spring, but Mama said I’ll be there soon enough, and Papa wouldn’t budge, even when I told him I only wanted to come see you.”
    Naomi was amused by the girl until she saw the shock on Jordan’s face. His cheeks had drained of color. “Just … just a minute, my dear, let me introduce you to my guests.” He seemed completely rattled. Who was this child, Naomi wondered, to cause Lord Freese such alarm?
    “Oh!” The girl twirled around to Naomi and Aunt Janine. “I’m sorry. I’ve forgotten myself already.” She was all coltish arms and legs. Her dark hair hung in a braid down her back. A liberal sprinkling of freckles dotted the bridge of her nose and the apples of her cheeks. Her smile was as yet overwide in her thin face, but Naomi could tell she’d bloom into a beauty in a few more years.
    She nodded to the girl as Jordan made the introduction. “Lady Janine, Lady Naomi, allow me to present my sister, Lady Kaitlin. Who is not,” he said, rounding on his stepmother, “supposed to be here.”

Chapter Seven
    In the entry hall, Jordan reined in his temper. “Kate,” he said to his sister, “please escort Lady Janine and Lady Naomi to their rooms.”
    The young adolescent wore a stricken expression. She bit her lips nervously, and her hands tangled at her waist. Kate nodded rapidly, her eyes large and pleading on his.
    Jordan sighed.
    Naomi gently touched her arm. “Lady Kaitlin, if you’d be so kind? I’m beyond ready to change into something less travel worn.”
    Kate’s huge eyes rolled toward Naomi, who smiled reassuringly. Thankfully, his sister took Naomi’s gracious cue and led the ladies upstairs.
    “Thank God for Naomi Lockwood,” he muttered. “Clara, come with me.”
    “For shame!” his stepmother hissed, hurrying to keep pace beside him. “You should not have said what you did in front of Kate. The poor girl adores you, Jordan, and you proclaim her unwelcome!”
    Jordan opened the door to his study and gestured her in. The room’s air was stale from disuse.
    “Why did you bring her?” he demanded. Clara’s mouth pinched together. “When I wrote,” he said, jabbing his right index finger demonstratively into his left palm, “I specifically instructed that Kate was
not
to attend. She should be home with her governess.” He crossed to the other end of the room, unlatched a window, flung it wide, and inhaled deep breaths of the cleansing, fresh air.
    “Miss Allen has scarlet fever,” Clara explained. “Even you must agree it is better for Kate to be out of the house than cooped up with such an