lit her small face and caused her eyes to dance like two wild cornflowers in the meadow.
Quite of its own accord, the earl's heart constricted, and he had to look away, the memory of his wife and the daughter they had not had together vivid in his mind.
"A sweet tooth is something to be wary of, child," Lady Sarah answered unexpectedly. "Unless, of course, you wish your teeth to rot away and fall out before you are twenty."
Penelope's eyes opened wide. "Oh, Perry!" she exclaimed, turning to the viscount, "never say that your teeth—"
"That is quite enough, Penny," her mother cut in, rather prudently the earl thought, since the child was undoubtedly poised to utter something quite outrageous. He was surprised at the sense of disappointment he felt at being deprived of this childish chatter. It had been far too long since he had been around children, and this young girl reminded him vividly of dreams that had passed him by.
Shaking these maudlin thoughts from his mind, Sylvester smiled at the child. "I daresay Perry has a few years to go before his teeth turn black," he murmured, enjoying the way her eyes grew round with wonder. "But I hear that if little girls eat too many tarts at tea-time, they will be fat and ugly for their come-out."
"And no gentleman will wish to dance with them," Perry put in with a laugh.
"I shall never be fat and ugly," Penelope protested with conviction. "I shall look just like Mama when I grow up. And Perry will dance with me, will you not, Perry?"
"Of course, sweetheart," the viscount responded promptly, passing the plate of tarts. "Here, love. Have one."
Penelope glanced apprehensively at Lady Sarah. "I have not finished my bread and jam, Perry. And neither have you," she added with a saucy smile. "So we shall both have to wait, shall we not?"
Sylvester turned to Lady Sarah and was startled to see the softening of her expression as she gazed fondly at the child.
"How soon can we expect to welcome the Rathbones, Aunt?" he inquired smoothly, amused at the slightly flustered look that flashed briefly in Lady Sarah's eyes.
"The Rathbones?" Peregrine repeated, a puzzled frown on his face. "Who are the Rathbones, Aunt Sarah? I do not recall—"
Lady Sarah interrupted rather brusquely. "You do not know them, Perry, so it does not surprise me that you cannot remember anyone by that name."
"Oh, but I do," Peregrine said quickly, his frown deepening. "The name is definitely familiar, Aunt, but I cannot for the life of me make the connection."
The earl shot a warning glance at his aunt, but Lady Sarah rose admirably to the challenge. "You are probably thinking of Colonel James Rathbone from the Dorset Rathbones, dear. He and his sister visited the Castle briefly one summer when your dear mother was still with us. As far as I know, he is now married and residing in London. He married one of the Harrison girls, I believe." She paused and appeared to consider her words. "Or was it Lord Sheffield's youngest daughter, I wonder?"
"Never heard of any of them," Perry said briefly. "And I do not recall any Colonel Rathbone coming to the Castle either." Sylvester glanced at his aunt admiringly. It did not surprise him that his son remembered nothing of such a visit, for the earl was convinced that the whole episode was pure invention on Lady Sarah's part.
It was a great pity, he mused, that his great-grandfather had cut short his youngest daughter's highly improper career on the stage so many years ago. The scandal had occurred in Sarah's youth, when she and another of the pupils of Mrs. Hawthorne's Academy for Young Ladies in Bath had escaped through an upstairs window and gone off to London in the company of a groom in the unfortunate Mrs. Hawthorne's household. Everything had been hushed up, naturally, but while Lady Sarah had been rescued from a life of shame by her irate father, her companion in sin had remained in London and gone on to become an actress of some note. Her stage name—and the
Quite of its own accord, the earl's heart constricted, and he had to look away, the memory of his wife and the daughter they had not had together vivid in his mind.
"A sweet tooth is something to be wary of, child," Lady Sarah answered unexpectedly. "Unless, of course, you wish your teeth to rot away and fall out before you are twenty."
Penelope's eyes opened wide. "Oh, Perry!" she exclaimed, turning to the viscount, "never say that your teeth—"
"That is quite enough, Penny," her mother cut in, rather prudently the earl thought, since the child was undoubtedly poised to utter something quite outrageous. He was surprised at the sense of disappointment he felt at being deprived of this childish chatter. It had been far too long since he had been around children, and this young girl reminded him vividly of dreams that had passed him by.
Shaking these maudlin thoughts from his mind, Sylvester smiled at the child. "I daresay Perry has a few years to go before his teeth turn black," he murmured, enjoying the way her eyes grew round with wonder. "But I hear that if little girls eat too many tarts at tea-time, they will be fat and ugly for their come-out."
"And no gentleman will wish to dance with them," Perry put in with a laugh.
"I shall never be fat and ugly," Penelope protested with conviction. "I shall look just like Mama when I grow up. And Perry will dance with me, will you not, Perry?"
"Of course, sweetheart," the viscount responded promptly, passing the plate of tarts. "Here, love. Have one."
Penelope glanced apprehensively at Lady Sarah. "I have not finished my bread and jam, Perry. And neither have you," she added with a saucy smile. "So we shall both have to wait, shall we not?"
Sylvester turned to Lady Sarah and was startled to see the softening of her expression as she gazed fondly at the child.
"How soon can we expect to welcome the Rathbones, Aunt?" he inquired smoothly, amused at the slightly flustered look that flashed briefly in Lady Sarah's eyes.
"The Rathbones?" Peregrine repeated, a puzzled frown on his face. "Who are the Rathbones, Aunt Sarah? I do not recall—"
Lady Sarah interrupted rather brusquely. "You do not know them, Perry, so it does not surprise me that you cannot remember anyone by that name."
"Oh, but I do," Peregrine said quickly, his frown deepening. "The name is definitely familiar, Aunt, but I cannot for the life of me make the connection."
The earl shot a warning glance at his aunt, but Lady Sarah rose admirably to the challenge. "You are probably thinking of Colonel James Rathbone from the Dorset Rathbones, dear. He and his sister visited the Castle briefly one summer when your dear mother was still with us. As far as I know, he is now married and residing in London. He married one of the Harrison girls, I believe." She paused and appeared to consider her words. "Or was it Lord Sheffield's youngest daughter, I wonder?"
"Never heard of any of them," Perry said briefly. "And I do not recall any Colonel Rathbone coming to the Castle either." Sylvester glanced at his aunt admiringly. It did not surprise him that his son remembered nothing of such a visit, for the earl was convinced that the whole episode was pure invention on Lady Sarah's part.
It was a great pity, he mused, that his great-grandfather had cut short his youngest daughter's highly improper career on the stage so many years ago. The scandal had occurred in Sarah's youth, when she and another of the pupils of Mrs. Hawthorne's Academy for Young Ladies in Bath had escaped through an upstairs window and gone off to London in the company of a groom in the unfortunate Mrs. Hawthorne's household. Everything had been hushed up, naturally, but while Lady Sarah had been rescued from a life of shame by her irate father, her companion in sin had remained in London and gone on to become an actress of some note. Her stage name—and the
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