scampering over to him, for the alcove was visible from the bed.
“One last thing we did not discuss, my lord. How did your wife die?”
He did not have time to respond before Rafe scurried out of bed and ran to his father. “Did ye sleep well, lad?” he asked, picking up his son to hug him and give him a kiss on the cheek.
The groggy boy kissed him back and nodded. “Is it snowing?”
“Aye, lad. Look out the window. Ye can see the snowflakes falling hard. We won’t be going outside today. So I’ll help ye to wash and dress. Then I’ll take ye down to breakfast. After ye eat, maybe Taffy will be finished with her chores and can read ye another story.”
He set his son down, but what neither of them expected was for the boy to run over to Taffy and give her an enormous hug and a kiss on the cheek. She hugged him back, closing her eyes a moment for the gesture was so sweet, it shot straight to her heart. “Good morning, Master Rafe.”
He climbed onto her lap, nestling quite comfortably in her arms. “After you read to me, can we play a game?”
She nodded. “Yes. But as your papa said, I have a little bit of work to do first. So you be a good boy and show your papa how well you wash your hands and face. And don’t forget to wash behind your ears.” She playfully tweaked his earlobe. “I’ll be back by the time you’ve finished your breakfast. Are you hungry?”
“Yes.” His eyes were so big and innocent.
“And think about what games you would like to play. We’ll have all afternoon together. I can also teach you to write your letters. Do you know the letters in your name?”
He looked stricken.
The marquis explained it to her. “His name is Raphael Marcus Alexander Mortimer Carstairs. A bit much for a boy of his age to manage.”
Taffy playfully tugged on the boy’s earlobe again. “What if we just write Rafe?”
He nodded and cast her a big smile.
“Perfect.” She eased him off her lap and rose, then bobbed a curtsy to each of them. “I shall return as soon as I can, Master Rafe.”
He threw his arms around her waist and hugged her again. “Don’t forget.”
“I never shall.” She stroked the boy’s hair, making no effort to draw him away as she looked up at his father in consternation. What did he think of this display?
He’d folded his arms across his chest again and was staring back at her, but his expression was unreadable. Finally, after a long moment, he said, “Rafe, let go of Taffy now.”
“All right.” The boy was adorably pouting.
Taffy smothered a smile, knowing she should not encourage his behavior. She bobbed another curtsy and fled the room, heading straight downstairs to grab her cape. She needed to convey all she’d learned to Mr. Barrow. With the weather so bad, she hoped to catch a ride into town from one of the local farmers who routinely delivered their produce. But the day was miserable and the family was no longer in residence, so she was not surprised when none of their local providers had shown up yet.
Perhaps she could prevail on a stable groom to saddle one of the horses for her. It was an hour’s walk into town and would take another hour coming back. Riding would be so much easier, especially in this bad weather.
To her relief, as she was about to head to the stable she noticed a wagon being driven up the back road. As it drew closer to the kitchen entrance, she realized the man at the reins was Mr. Barrow himself.
She ran out to greet him as he approached.
“Miss Ralston, just the person I hoped to see.” He was a portly man with a bulbous nose that remained red no matter the temperature. That he was often jovial belied the fact that he was quite serious about his assignments. He was quick and clever, and his sharp eyes missed nothing.
As the kitchen help scurried out to unload the provisions, Taffy led him inside and the Hartland cook offered him a cup of tea. “Where did you get that wagon and supplies, Mr. Barrow?”
“Borrowed from a local farmer. I wanted to ride over here unobtrusively and see if there was any unusual activity going on between here and town.”
“Was there any?” They settled at a small table in an out of the way corner of