The Reluctant Guardian. Susanne Dietze

for your own benefit,” Amy insisted.

      “You knew?” Again? They had told her nothing and, worse, had allowed someone to observe her? What else had he done? Pawed through her drawers with his enormous hands? Gemma’s teeth clenched, reverberating pain through her jaw.

      “We just learned it, Gem.” Wyling shook his head.

      Tavin held up his hands. “They didn’t know. And I didn’t spy.” He said the word like she’d no idea of the true definition of the word. “I watched the house. Nothing more. I had hoped to convince my superior that you were in no danger so he would alter his orders for me. Unfortunately, he wishes me to continue on awhile longer.”

      “Spying on me?”

      “Guarding you,” he corrected. “Which will be easier to do if you are aware.”

      “I do not require a guardian. Tell your superior I decline.”

      “Whether you or I wish it, I will still be tasked with watching you.” He looked no more pleased than she.

      “I cannot believe this Sovereign would follow you here, but I trust Knox.” Wyling’s voice was firm but kind. “If I had to entrust you—or Amy or Petey or Eddie—to another, it would be him. So I say, yes. You must tolerate it, both of you.”

      She’d grown adept at tolerance these past six years. But this seemed ludicrous.

      Tavin’s gaze seemed to burn into her, so intense it brought to mind how he’d looked at her in the drawing room back home, smelling of wood and water, right before she’d stomped off to climb Verity Hill.

      And started this whole mess. So she nodded. Amy’s shoulders sagged in relief, and a pang of remorse shot through Gemma for making things difficult for her family.

      “I’ll follow from a distance. If necessary, I shall attend the same events.” Did his cheeks pink? “A few rules will make this easier on both of us. Tell me where you’re going and when. And no going off alone or hiding from me.”

      “In other words, you’re my new governess.” She sighed.

      “A discreet, invisible one.”

      Wyling chortled, Gemma squeezed Amy’s arm and then rose. “If that is all, I should get to the nursery.”

      “Good day, Miss Lyfeld.” Tavin’s brow quirked. She nodded back and hastened to the nursery. Despite whines of protest from their harried nursemaid, Nellie, her nephews bounced on their beds. As he jumped, Petey tossed toy soldiers into the cradle in the far corner—still desolately empty despite Amy and Wyling’s desire for children. Eddie jigged on his cot in imitation of his brother, his finger in his mouth, cackling in delight.

      “What terror is this?” Gemma dropped the book on a lacquered table with a reverberating smack. “My nephews do not screech and hop like jungle creatures. Cease at once.”

      “So sorry, miss—down, boys!” Nellie’s voice sounded panicked.

      “Sowwy, Aunt Gem.” Eddie’s bouncing slowed.

      Petey thunked to his bottom, creaking the bed frame. “Sorry.”

      “Express your apologies to Nellie, and we may move forward.” She retrieved the book while the boys embraced Nellie. Opening to the first chapter, her hopes sank to her red leather shoes. She scanned a few pages and set the book down with a sigh of disappointment.

      “This book will not do.” A book of sermons, the writings would certainly edify, but they would not provide the adventurous fiction she had promised the boys. “Nellie, get the boys’ coats. Let’s venture to Hatchards.”

      “For books?” Petey’s eyes grew wide as his coat buttons.

      “I’ve yet to find a book which quite meets our needs.” Until Wyling and Amy were blessed with children of their own, their library would no doubt remain lacking in suitable material for young ones.

      She tugged on Eddie’s coat and fastened the brass buttons. What had Tavin said? Tell him where she was going and not to go out alone?

      Well. She was not alone in the least. She was accompanied by a nursemaid and two small children. She tried to inform Tavin, but the butler, Stott, was emphatic Mr. Knox and his lordship were in the library and not to be disturbed, so she did not feel the slightest trepidation leaving the house after jotting him a short note with word of her whereabouts.

      * * *

      The sun broke through the clouds in gleaming shafts as Gemma, her nephews and Nellie walked the well-kept square down Berkeley Street to Piccadilly, past the grand gardens of Lansdowne House and Devonshire House. Crested carriages pulled by fine horses traversed in both directions, while well-dressed persons sauntered by at a sedate pace. A gentleman tipped his beaver hat and wished her good day, and Gemma returned his greeting with enthusiasm.

      New faces. New experiences. Freedom. London was wonderful.

      A crisp breeze ruffled her hem and fluttered the ribbons of her poke bonnet, carrying the pleasant smells of scythed grass and wood smoke, twined with the tangy odor she had come to associate with London. Perhaps its source was the Thames, but the smell made her nose wrinkle. A small price to pay, however, for the delights of the city.

      Piccadilly bustled with traffic. Her little party crossed the busy street and within moments, the gleaming wood facade of the booksellers came into view.

      “Miss Lyfeld.” The baritone behind her held no trace of amusement. Or patience.

      Oh, dear.

      The boys spun around and began to bounce. “Mr. Knox!”

      “You are on an outing?” Irony dripped from his words.

      “We’re off to the booksellers.” Petey hopped on his toes. “Aunt Gem says she’ll read us something with an a-venture in it.”

      “Like a knight jousting.” Eddie spoke around his finger. Gemma gently pulled it from his mouth and took his wet hand in hers.

      Tavin’s lips twitched. “Serious business, indeed. May I accompany you?”

      “It is unnecessary.” Gemma spoke before the boys begged Mr. Knox to please do.

      “May we go inside now?” Petey hopped.

      “Manners, my love.” Gemma released their hands. “Nellie, would you to take the children in? I shall join you in a moment.”

      Gemma watched until they disappeared into the depths of the bookstore. When she turned back, Tavin leveled her with a frown.

      “Ignoring my rules already, Miss Lyfeld?”

      “Hardly. I am not alone. Nellie is here, as are the boys.”

      “Feeble protection, honestly.”

      “I left word for you. What else could I do? You were not to be disturbed, according to Stott.”

      “Disturb me. Always.” He leaned closer and, oh, there was that wood smell again. “From now on, take me or Wyling with you.”

      Lovely wood smell or not, this was absurd. “’Tis most impractical.”

      “We must all bear the inconvenience for now.” He gestured to the door. “Now that we understand one another, do you care to look at books?”

      “Not particularly. I’d rather throw one at something.”

      “I shall find a shield for myself, then.”

      Did everything she say and do amuse him? She gripped her reticule and turned. Catching sight of another familiar face, a grin pulled at her cheeks. Hugh, on Piccadilly of all places, smiling down at her. Now, God willing, everything would be well.

      A young lady clung to his arm.

      Yellow curls peeped from under a silk bonnet embellished