"He's a coward, Cousin Knight!" Sam shrieked, pointing and jumping up and down. "He's running away!"

"Shut your trap, Sam," Theo said quickly. "We don't want people staring. It's not good manners."

"Indeed," Knight said. "Restrain yourself, Sam. If Ugly Arnold tries anything, I'll put you on him. All right?"

"I'll smack him good," said Sam.

Knight looked faintly approving at this well-meaning threat.

With the excitement over, the children finally realized their own fatigue. Sam was hungry. Theo was tense and exhausted. Laura Beth was fretting, her voice a high whine.

Lily turned to Knight. "I'll see to them now. Please, I know you're not used to children. I'll take them home."

Knight, who would have given just about anything to be freed from the pestilence of the three little beggars, said perversely, "Not at all. We still have a present to purchase for Laura Beth. We'll do that, then I'll escort you to Gunthers." He turned to Theo. "Would you like an ice?"

The yelling approval was enough to smack through his eardrums.

What have I done? he asked himself. Just as he'd tried to insist that he pay for Theo's book-a thesis on the feasibility of the steam engine-and for Sam's ten-gun schooner, he again tried to insist on paying for Laura Beth's sleepily chosen small white cotton gloves.

Lily said no.

Knight, infuriated, said yes and drew out a pound note.

"My lord," Lily said, her teeth gritted, "we have already been through this twice. The children are my responsibility. I am not a pauper. I have the funds. I will buy their presents. They are from me, after all, not from you."

Knight ostentatiously folded his pound note and gave her an exaggerated shrug. He was, quite frankly, too tired to think of a sharp retort.

Gunthers wasn't as horrendous an experience as he'd expected. Once Sam had a large bowl of ice cream in front of him, he was quiet as a clam. Laura Beth was snuggled against Lily, accepting an occasional spoonful. She insisted on wearing her white gloves. Theo, wary and tired, ate his ice in silence, throwing an occasional uncertain look at Knight.

"My God, I don't believe this."

Knight looked up to see Julien St. Clair, the Earl of March, staring at him and his small herd. Beside him stood his countess, Katherine St. Clair. She poked her husband in the ribs and stepped forward, a smile on her face.

Introductions were got through. The children were subdued, but the earl and the countess weren't to know why, Knight thought sardonically. They were polite and civil and diffident. As for Lily, she was what he would have expected: a lady with appropriate social graces and a kindness of spirit that made her new acquaintances want to continue in her company. Knight also noticed that Julien wasn't bowled over by Lily's beauty. His smile was social, not infatuated or lustful. That was a relief. Knight was beginning to believe that he would have to watch every male closely when one swam into Lily's waters.

Julien St. Clair couldn't come to grips with this Knight Winthrop. What had happened to his cynical, clever, completely irreverent friend? This man who was sitting at a circular table with a beautiful woman and three-three!-children. It boggled the mind. It left one stunned.

He heard Knight say to the older boy, "Theo, why don't you show your new book to his lordship? I understand he's fascinated with the subject of steam engines."

Julien shot Knight a look, but the smile he gave Theo was warm and interested.

"She's lovely," Katherine St. Clair said to Lily. Laura Beth, shy and sleepy, said a blurry "Thank you" and buried her face against Lily's shoulder.

"She's also getting heavy. I trust she outgrows her desire to use me for a bed in the near future."

"I declare, are those new gloves? How very smart they are."

Laura Beth opened both eyes at this comment and thanked the lady again. "Mama bought them for me. Cousin Knight wanted to, but she wouldn't let him. I think she wanted to smack him, but she didn't. Mama said that-"

"You close that mouth of yours, my dear child. Here, have some more ice cream." Lily looked up to see the countess regarding her intently. "She's a very sweet little girl."

"I would agree," the countess said, nodding pleasantly.

Several other acquaintances stopped by briefly within the next fifteen minutes, and their reactions all fitted the incredulous mold of "By Jove, old man, children?"

"Good God, Knight, you in the infantry?"

"Bloody bedlam," muttered the dazed Marquess of Bourne, shaking his grizzled head. "We might as well surrender to old Boney."

Lily's attention, for the most part, was on the children, primarily Sam. But even he minded his manners. Lily saw that Knight made certain he was given another bowl of ice cream the moment he finished his first one. In short, he had no time to turn his schooner's cannon on any of their incredulous visitors.

"It's ten-gun and wonderful," Lily heard him say to Julien St. Clair. "I could kill every Frenchie if only I was just a few years older."

"No doubt," said Julien, smiling faintly.

"He's rather bloodthirsty," Knight said, and to his surprise, he ruffled Sam's soft brown hair.

Julien stared. My God, it was simply more than a mere mortal could comprehend. When he and his countess took their leave, he remained silent and in a state of advanced confusion for the better part of two hours.

The carriage ride back to Winthrop House passed in similar peace.

"So that's the trick, huh?" Knight remarked to Lily. "Glut the little heathen and peace is restored."

"That about covers it," Lily said, grinning widely.

The children were dispatched upstairs with Mrs. Allgood, Laura Beth and Sam to nap, Theo to pore over his new book.

"I think I'll take a nap, too," Knight said, stretching.

Lily gave him a crooked smile that made him instantly randy. "Parents say that children keep them young; however, I tend to think they age you."

Knight gave her an answering smile, unable not to. He'd been too aware of her today, all day, and it bothered him tremendously. He decided then and there to take himself off to Daniella. She would ease him; she would restore his perspective. Further, visiting her would save him from the inevitable roasting from his friends. He didn't doubt that his aberrant behavior would be the talk of the ton by evening. He wondered if it would be attributed to the beautiful Widow Winthrop. "I'm going out," he said abruptly to Lily. "I shan't be back for dinner."

He left her standing in the entranceway, asking herself if she'd said something to offend him.

By ten o'clock that evening she was very afraid that there was something that would surely offend him now. She wouldn't be surprised if Knight booted them out into the waiting arms of Ugly Arnold.

Five.

Knight was pleasantly relaxed. He leaned his head back against the hackney squabs and closed his eyes. Unfortunately, that made him remember and he shuddered. It had been too close there for a while. But things had worked out, thank all the powers that had taken pity on him. He didn't want to dwell on it, but he couldn't help himself. It had never before happened to him, never in all his male adult life.

Despite his randiness, he couldn't seem to make things happen. Daniella was as she always was-beautiful, alluring, marvelously adaptive-and in the end, it was her skilled mouth that had brought him up to snuff, so to speak.

All because of a damned woman he'd known for such a short time it was objectively absurd.

And he'd thrown his head back and shouted her name at the moment of his sexual release.

It wasn't to be borne. He would send her and the children to Castle Rosse. Soon.

He had to get his life back on its wonderfully predictable course before his mistress stabbed him for stupidity and his friends had him committed to an asylum. He could just hear Julien St. Clair telling all their mutual friends of his very odd encounter at Gunthers with Knight and his gaggle. Why, he was eating an ice, surrounded by children eating ices. And by toys. They were his family. Knight, with a family. Ah, but the mother, an angel of beauty, yes, our Knight...

He moaned, cutting off his imaginary monologue as he realized he could not send the brood away until he was officially and legally the children's guardian. He couldn't take the chance of sending them to Castle Rosse in case Ugly Arnold was still lurking about with evil intent in his heart.

He would speak to Tilney Jones on the morrow, hurry the fellow up, instruct him to grease every upturned palm. He didn't care what it would cost.

Twenty minutes later, Knight let himself into his home with his latchkey. To his surprise, he saw a light coming from the drawing room. It was late, after midnight. He frowned and strode into the room.

He came to a stunned halt. "Lily, what are you doing up? Is something wrong?"

She looked pale and nervous and breathtakingly beautiful. Damned woman.

Lily tried to avoid lying. "Nothing is really wrong, if you mean that someone is ill," she said.

"Excellent. We make progress."

He was at his most sardonic-his voice smooth and bland, his left eyebrow arched upward, his look one of ironic hauteur. He walked past her to the sideboard and she smelled the subtle attar of rose perfume. He'd been with a woman, his mistress, no doubt. She swallowed.

She watched him pour himself a brandy. She was about to speak when he said abruptly, his voice meditative, "I am twenty-seven years old. Not all that far removed from childhood. But I'd forgotten that children have such separate and distinct personalities. Theo-good Lord, the lad's so intense, so grown up. Was he ever a little boy?"

"A bit more before his father died."

"Ah." Knight looked down into his brandy snifter. "That's another thing. The children haven't spoken at all of their father. Isn't that somewhat odd? Shouldn't they say something? Shouldn't they grieve?"

They had grieved, Lily thought, each of them in his or her own way, in private, which wasn't all that good, especially for the children.

"Since his father was killed, Theo has tried to become the head of the family. He always was a serious little boy, but now-" She shrugged. "Perhaps you're right about Eton. Perhaps in the company of other boys his age he'll become younger, more carefree. I should like him to get into just one Sam-like scrape. But he's a scholar, you know, and I don't see anything changing that."

"Well, now our scholar will become an expert on steam engines. And Sam?"

"Sam is just the opposite. Since Tris's death, he's become a handful. He's always been an imp, but now it's as if, well, he has to misbehave. Please realize that since Tris's death, the children have known no security. We made the long trip from Brussels to Yorkshire not knowing if the Damsons would take us in. They did, but Gertrude didn't like any of us, and then there was the debacle with Arnold. I had to uproot them yet again, very quickly, to bring them here. Once more we weren't certain of our reception. The children are frightened, though they'd rather die than admit it.

"Sam's very aggressive, always wanting to plant someone a facer. It's his way, I think, of handling his fear. As for dear Theo, I believe he thinks that the more mature, the more adult, he acts, the more at bay he keeps his fears."

"Laura Beth seems to have escaped."

"Not at all. Since her father's death, she won't let Czarina Catherine out of her sight, or her arms, and she won't take her thumb out of her mouth. As you've noticed, she's also clingy with me. As for a show of grief, I have heard Sam crying late at night and gone to him. He's had his fist shoved into his mouth so Theo wouldn't hear him. I wasn't able to bring myself to intrude on his grief. It would unman him, I think."

"He's a little boy."

"Yes, a very proud little boy."

"I see," Knight said slowly. "You appear to have figured all this out in vast detail."

"I love them. I care about them. The changes are obvious to me, as are the reasons for the changes. Cause and effect, I suppose you'd say."

Knight set down his snifter. "Why are you still up?"

"Sam," she said, expelling a deep breath.

"Sam? Ah, I see. He's been indulging in an impish little-boy prank?"

"Yes."

After a few more moments of silence, Knight said on a deep sigh, "I'm waiting, Lily."

"I suppose I should tell you, particularly since I waited up to do so, but-"

"I won't eat you or Sam."

"He stole Cuthbert's rising bread dough from the kitchen and wrapped it around the stairs leading to the servants' quarters on the third floor. Only servants' candles light that staircase."

Knight simply stared at her. "My God! How incredibly inventive. Did anyone scream? Die of fright? Go catapulting down the stairs into oblivion?"

"Betty shrieked the house down. She thought she'd put her hand 'inside a dead body,' as she so aptly put it. 'Sticky and puffy and oozy.' I don't know about the oozy part. It would seem to me that Cuthbert wouldn't make oozy bread dough, but then again-" She stopped to stare at her host, who looked not at all angry but rather bemused and somewhat admiring.

Actually, Knight was trying to remember twenty years before. Had he ever executed such a clever prank? He couldn't remember.

"You-you're not furious?"

"As in will I kick the lot of you out of my house?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I mean."

"No, but I will have Sam clean off the bread dough."

"I'm not that doting a mama. I made him do that immediately. It was quite a prolonged task." She drew a deep breath. "There's something else."

"I begin to think I should bring a priest into the house, for confessions. It appears there'll be a steady stream of work for him. Is there more to expiate tonight?"

"It's Cuthbert. He bellowed to the entire neighborhood that he was going to leave."

Knight's look and voice were weary and cynical. "Don't let Cuthbert's threats worry you. I pay the fool much too much for him ever to consider leaving my employ."

"But he was quite voluble in his threat that if we didn't leave, he would."

"Fine. Let him. I don't care."

It was Lily's turn to stare at Knight. "You're not angry? Truly not?"

"No, but I am tired. Let's retire now, Lily." The instant those words were out of his mouth-double-edged only to him-he felt lust flood through him.

He turned quickly away from her, only to halt at the door as he remembered his valet's snide comment to him just before he'd left to visit Daniella. "Have you had any difficulty with my valet, Stromsoe?"