The Earl's Forbidden Ward. Bronwyn Scott

relations in your family, the man assigned to guide you and watch over you all. I have the most honourable of intentions.’ And he did have honourable intentions for England—just not necessarily for the girls.

      ‘I’ve never met you,’ Miss Branscombe challenged. ‘I am hard pressed to believe my father would have selected a guardian that we’ve never met. Quite frankly, it seems unlikely that he would have picked a man we didn’t even know existed until this afternoon.’

      Peyton nodded. ‘I met your father on a few occasions in Vienna, but I never had the chance to journey north to St Petersburg.’ At least this wasn’t a lie, although the implications it hinted at—those of a relationship with Ralph Branscombe—were non-existent.

      Peyton pushed the papers towards Miss Branscombe, since she hadn’t moved to take them from the table. ‘If you look at the papers, Miss Branscombe, you will see that they are in order. There is a letter of introduction that vouches for me. The codicil is there, as well as an outline of how my guardianship is to be managed.’

      Forced to acknowledge the papers, Miss Branscombe picked them up and began to read. And read. A weighty silence fell. Peyton could hear the mantel clock ticking off the minutes. The muffled sound of a passing carriage could be heard from the street and still Miss Branscombe read. At last, she looked up. Peyton thought he saw her hands tremble slightly, but she adroitly folded them and hid them in the lap of her skirt and he couldn’t be sure.

      ‘What do the papers say, Tess?’ Petra asked in a quiet voice.

      Miss Branscombe reached for Petra’s hand. She was all calmness; the angel quality Peyton had seen in her earlier had returned. ‘There’s nothing for you to worry about, dear. Now, I need to speak with the Earl privately. Please take the girls upstairs.’

      Anne whimpered next to Miss Branscombe and she bent to whisper reassurances to the little girl, gently nudging her towards Petra’s outstretched arms. ‘Annie, your dollies will be missing you. Perhaps you and Eva can try on the new dresses she made them,’ Miss Branscombe cajoled. ‘I’ll be up in a while to see how they look and we can have a tea party.’

      Peyton watched Miss Branscombe walk the three girls to the door, Petra shooting a last glance at her older sister, clearly worried. The scene was hard to take in. Seeing the sisters together reminded him all too acutely of life after his father had passed away, leaving him an earldom and two brothers to care for. But that was years past and he’d locked the feelings associated with those difficult days away deep inside himself long ago. He didn’t want them resurrected. Nothing could come of them. They were best left alone, unexamined and unexplored.

      When Miss Branscombe turned back to him, the angel was gone. She was all fire and rage. ‘I will not stand for you or anyone splitting up this family. I have worked too hard keeping us together, too hard trying to give them stability.’

      Peyton rose, since Miss Branscombe had no intention of sitting down. He strode to the window and drew back a lace panel to view the street below. ‘I imagine the life of a diplomat is often trying for a woman. Moving about, making new friends, learning new customs must be an overwhelming task.’

      ‘It is a difficult task for anyone,’ Miss Branscombe promptly corrected. ‘I have done it admirably and now I deserve my reward.’

      ‘Which is what?’ Peyton turned from his study of the street to watch Miss Branscombe.

      ‘To be left alone with my sisters, to raise them where they will be safe,’ she retorted sharply.

      That got Peyton’s attention. He veiled his reaction carefully. ‘Were they not safe in St Petersburg?’ Miss Branscombe seemed to hesitate. Interesting.

      ‘Diplomacy in general is not always the safest of fields,’ she answered vaguely.

      Peyton nodded. He wondered—did she know about the list? Had something happened in St Petersburg to give her reason to fear for her own personal safety and that of her sisters? He couldn’t ask her now. Such probing would seem too nosy. He’d have to file this away and remember to pursue it when the timing was better.

      ‘I assure you, Miss Branscombe, that your fears are understandable and misplaced. I have no intention of swindling your fortunes out from under you. You are welcome to do a financial check on me. My solicitor has been instructed to be at your disposal. Additionally, I am not proposing that the family be split up. The girls are welcome to stay in London with you for the Season.’ If he couldn’t convince her of his reassurances, he’d be off to an awkward start in gaining her trust.

      ‘We can decide, together, at the end of the Season where all of you should go next. I am prepared to make you welcome at Dursley Park until you’re settled. My family is there,’ Peyton offered. The last bit was spontaneous, perhaps motivated by guilt over the situation. His arrangement with Brimley did not require him to do anything for the girls.

      Miss Branscombe appeared to visibly relax at the prospect. She nodded. ‘Will your wife be joining us in London?’

      ‘I am not married, Miss Branscombe. When I mentioned my family, I meant my two brothers, my brother’s wife, their new child and my Cousin Beth.’ Peyton held up a hand to ward off the protest he saw coming. ‘I understand your hesitation. My Aunt Lily, the Dowager Duchess of Bridgerton, has agreed to sponsor you for the Season. Everything will be comme il faut and above reproach, I assure you.’

      Miss Branscombe studied him for a long while. ‘I do not desire a Season. Your aunt need not worry and neither need you. I am sure squiring around an unknown girl who is rather too old to be making a début is not high on your list of priorities.’

      True, it wasn’t. But that would not do. Peyton needed a reason to be in her company, to become a fixture in her life. ‘Surely you wish to marry and settle down with a family of your own? A Season will enable you to meet people and get to know England all over again.’

      ‘I’ve never known England,’ Miss Branscombe said sharply.

      ‘Still, if it’s to be your home, you’ll want to make friends,’ Peyton argued. He’d never encountered a more obstinate female. His Aunt Lily was headstrong, but quite capable of seeing reason. His Cousin Beth was pleasantly compliant. But there was nothing reasonable or compliant about Tessa Branscombe. He offered her a Season under the sponsorship of the revered Lady Bridgerton. No young lady he knew of would take such a gift lightly. Yet Miss Branscombe simply refused and kept pacing the carpet, intent on studying the pattern. Perhaps she was unaware of the honour he accorded her with such an offer.

      Peyton played his ace. ‘If you are unwilling to do it for yourself, I would encourage you to do it for your sisters. Petra should be out next year and Eva won’t be far behind.’

      That stopped her. She looked up. ‘I will speak to them. Perhaps, for their sakes, I will consider it.’

      Peyton nodded, knowing that was the closest to an acceptance he would get from her today. He couldn’t push for too much too soon. He would have to instil his guardianship in gradual, subtle steps. It was clear from today’s meeting that Miss Branscombe wouldn’t take kindly to his outright assumption of authority. But there were definitely things that needed doing, starting with curbing inappropriate outings to the market and teas without cakes. It seemed that Tessa Branscombe intended for her sisters to grow up as wayward as she.

      That would not play well amongst the ton. Her beauty and his reputation would only go so far in making the Branscombes acceptable. He knew how the ton worked and the Branscombes were fringe players at best in that world. Any mis-step from Tessa Branscombe would be magnified a hundred times over.

      Peyton drew out his pocket watch. It was growing late. The visit had taken longer than he’d anticipated and he’d promised Aunt Lily he’d come for dinner after assessing the Branscombe situation.

      ‘I appreciate your time, Miss Branscombe. I’ll let you take the evening to help your sisters adjust to the news, although I want them reassured that all will be well. I do not wish to be wrongly painted as the ogre here. I will