Her honesty was so enchanting that he asked, “What is your name?”
“Fancy Sheridan,” she said shyly.
The name suited her. Simple yet lovely, with a light-hearted ring to it.
“And you, sir?”
“Severin Knight,” he replied.
It was the name his maman had given him, true enough. He could have used his title. Yet being a duke was still new to him…and he wanted to prolong this unexpected moment of fun and freedom.
“It’s not that I didn’t trust in your abilities,” Miss Sheridan said earnestly. “But other than my da, I ’aven’t met any master o’ beasts—”
“The gent’s going to be a master o’ an angry beast if ’e doesn’t give Bertrand whate’er ’e ’as in ’is coat pocket,” a new voice announced.
Severin turned to see the arrival of a wiry, grey-bearded man. The fellow looked like an elf from a children’s story, his twinkling blue eyes peering out from behind a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles which sat crookedly on his nose. He wore a turquoise velvet smoking jacket and a plaid waistcoat lined with mismatched buttons. His cap sported colorful and clashing patches.
“Take me word for it,” he said to Severin. “A donkey be an excellent judge o’ character and, if you pass muster, you’ll ne’er ’ave a truer friend. To stay in Bertrand’s good graces, I suggest you live up to your end o’ the bargain.”
Knowing the jig was up, Severin removed the fruit glacés he’d hidden in his pocket, holding them out to Bertrand. The donkey swiped up the treats with its tongue, munching contentedly—as well it should. Those candied cherries came from a renowned confectionary in Paris, and they’d cost Severin an arm and a leg.
“Why, you’re no master o’ beasts,” the female said indignantly. “You’re a master o’ bribes.”
Severin tried to look penitent. At the very least, he managed not to laugh.
“I beg your pardon, Miss Sheridan.” He bowed. “I could not resist.”
“Be you wanting something ’ere at Camden Manor, sir?” the bearded fellow asked.
“This is Mr. Knight, Da,” Miss Sheridan said. “’E’s looking for Bea.”
“Milton Sheridan, of the tinkering Sheridans, at your service.” Her father kept his bespectacled gaze on Severin. “Be you wanting Miss Bea for a particular reason?”
Sheridan’s trade explained the odd attire, but Knight found the tinker’s suspicious manner odd.
“I have an introduction from her brother,” he said shortly.
“Ah. You be a friend o’ ’er family then.” Seeming reassured, Sheridan went on, “She’s in the fields, sir. ’Er barn caught fire last night, and she be there supervising the clean-up.”
A product of London’s slums, Severin had learned to trust his instincts for they’d saved him more than once. Something about the tinker’s guarded manner and the way he spoke of the barn fire stirred Severin’s nape. The last thing Severin needed was more complications. He should turn around, head back to London. He could take his aunt’s advice: do the pretty with eligible ladies until he found a wife to provide him with an heir and a spare before they both went their merry ways.
Severin was aware of Fancy Sheridan staring at him. For some reason, the look in her velvety eyes stirred the ashes of an old dream…one that he knew couldn’t be resurrected. He had given his heart to Imogen, and although she loved him back, she’d been forced to marry another.
Our love is rare, Knight. Like a flower I once saw at an exhibition. Imogen’s melodious voice floated through his head. The Queen of the Night blooms but once in a lifetime.
He felt a familiar, bittersweet pang. He’d had his chance at love and come to Staffordshire for a different purpose entirely. While happiness would not be his, he could still have the satisfaction of doing his duty. Of fulfilling the destiny that was the result of his maman’s sacrifice and that others had tried to steal from him.
He squared his shoulders. “Please direct me to Lady Beatrice.”
2
Later that afternoon, Fancy and her family returned to the cottage where they stayed during their visits to Camden Manor. Bea always reserved the largest cottage for them, and Fancy had the rare luxury of her own bedchamber. The snug bungalow also boasted an indoor bathing room, and after a day spent cleaning up after the barn fire, Fancy was in sore need of a bath.
As she filled the copper tub with buckets of heated water, her mind whirled. So much had happened in a single day. First and foremost, there was the