Chapter 29

Torie kept looking over her shoulder the entire way back to the carriage, praying that she'd see Dominic strolling behind

them, but they reached Mulberry with no more excitement than Florence falling in the muck.

Mulberry threw horse blankets over the crimson leather seats. The children clambered in and promptly seated themselves on

the floor, hovering over the cage. It occurred to Torie that a mother likely should tell her children to seat themselves properly,

but she was too fearful to bother.

"I suggest you join the children, my lady," Mulberry said. "Best you're not standing here, twinkling like a lighthouse and

attracting pickpockets. His lordship is a master with that blade of his, so your ladyship shouldn't worry about that."

Torie climbed into the carriage, feeling sick with worry. The men had such cold eyes, like those of dead codfish. Moreover,

there were four of them, and only one Dominic.

Which was precisely when she realized that she had made two cardinal errors: taking the family to this dreadful market and

falling in love with her husband.

The emotion must have snuck up on her since their wedding; she could have sworn that she wasn't in love with him yesterday.

She had been coolly contemplating jilting him, and would have, if it hadn't been for the twins.

Except... that wasn't exactly true. She herself had acknowledged that the twins would still love her even if she didn't marry their guardian.

According to Clara, most of polite society believed she would jilt him; their guests had arrived at the cathedral with all

the relish with which they'd attend a melodrama. Her father wagered money on his certainty. Even her fiancé had walked to

the altar expecting her to fail to show up, or worse, to blurt out "I don't" rather than "I do."

Whereas she had behaved with the consistency of a woman in love. She'd ignored everything and everyone, including her best

friend's advice, and married the viscount.

Even though he was the most infuriating, condescending, belligerent man whom she could have chosen.

Which brought her shocked thoughts back to the fact that Dominic was even now fighting off four villains with a decorative

rapier. She longed to jump out of the carriage, grab that huge gun, and run back to the rabbit hutch.

When Mulberry finally rumbled, "Your ladyship," she shoved open the door and jumped out. Simons was standing at the horses'

heads, and Mulberry was on the box, blunderbuss pointing to the ground.

Dominic was sauntering toward them. She couldn't see any wounds, but she wouldn't put it past him to hide an injury so as

not to frighten the children. Yet his cheekbones weren't tight, so he wasn't in pain.

When their eyes met, he smiled— smiled , dimples and all—as if he'd merely been taking a stroll. "Dominic," she said, the word a whisper on her lips. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Dom, are you injured?"

"Certainly not."

He had a cage tucked under one arm. Could he have purchased another rabbit? She knew from watching the glade that two rabbits

quickly multiplied to twenty rabbits.

"All's well," Dominic told Mulberry. "Thank you, Simons, for escorting my family safely back to the carriage."

"Dom," Torie managed.

"One moment, darling," he said. He leaned past her and slid the cage onto the carriage floor.

"What is it?" she heard Florence ask, and then, "Babies!"

"The rabbit family is too young to escape on their own," Dominic said, returning to Torie's side. "We can set them free in

one of the parks." He took her hands and brought her close. "Were you frightened?"

"Horribly," Torie admitted, wrapping her arms around his large, solid frame and burying her face in his chest. "You still

smell citrusy. The children and I reek."

"I am in need of a bath." Dom leaned down and said in her ear, "And a nap."

Torie managed a shaky smile and allowed her husband to hand her into the carriage. He sat next to her, casually dusting some

dirt from his breeches.

"How very tiresome that was," Torie said, managing to keep her tone light, even as her eyes widened at the sight of blood

splattered on his lace cuffs.

"Please excuse my sartorial deficiencies," her husband said, stuffing the soiled lace up his sleeve. "I hope that my carriage

doesn't permanently carry the aroma of this adventure. I fear for my clothing."

"We had a calamity in your absence," Torie said.

He raised an eyebrow.

"First, Florence fell down in the mud."

"Then Oddie defecated on me," Florence said brightly. "That's why he is back in his cage. Twenty-three little pellets. We

threw almost all of them out."

"Almost?" Dominic repeated. He looked as if he'd like to add defecate to the Prohibited List but thought better of it.

Florence held out her hand. "I kept two. Torie says that the bunny was probably not fed properly, so we're going to give him

better food and then compare."

Dominic frowned at the squished brown pellets. He evidently disapproved, but once a child was covered with muck, Torie didn't

see that a few rabbit pellets made a difference.

"I gather Odysseus now has a family name?" Dominic asked.

"Odysseus is too grand, given his funny ears," Valentine said. "We're calling him Oddie, because he is." He had taken the

rabbit from his cage again, and he was stroking him between his ears. "Oddie likes this. See how his eyes close? Perhaps his

mother licked him just here."

"Who were those men, and why didn't you come with us?" Florence asked. "Simons took us out the back door of the hutch."

"Obviously, Father had to buy the baby rabbits," Valentine answered. "Didn't you hear what that man said about broth? I'm

very glad, because the hut was not a salubrious atmosphere. Salubrious is—"

"I do know that word, Val, thank you," Torie said. "I agree with you. Perhaps we can set the mother rabbit and her babies free in Green Park. The park has a wild wood, so likely they can make friends."

"I wouldn't mind that," Florence pronounced. "Oddie must stay with us, though. He has no family, because all his siblings

were sold. He was left behind."

"Which means he wasn't made into broth," her brother pointed out. "He's the lucky one."

"Look, he's gone to sleep." The rabbit was nestled down, his nose hidden in the crook of Val's arm.

"I should like both of you to sit on the seat rather than the floor, like proper gentlefolk," Dominic said.

Perhaps that was why children were raised by two parents. After one person wearied of educating young heathens, the other

could step in.

When the twins were both seated, their heads bent over the sleeping bunny, Torie slid toward Dom until she fitted against

him like a puzzle piece.

"Are you truly all right?" she whispered. "Was that your blood?"

He shook his head. "Not a drop."

"I'm deeply sorry that I ever suggested Smithfield. I've only been to market fairs at home, where you can buy cows, but also

whistles and rattles. I thought we could buy a doll for Florence and hear a ballad or two. We could watch acrobats or a pantomime,

have some gingerbread, and come home with a rabbit."

"My fault as much as yours," Dominic said, shaking his head. "I believed Smithfield would be filthy and thought we might encounter

a pickpocket at most. Not outright criminals."

Torie didn't realize she was clutching her middle until Dominic lifted away her hand and started rubbing comforting circles

on her tummy.

"I put us in danger," she whispered.

"No more than I did. Next time, we'll go to Bartholomew Fair, where we can buy gingerbread and dolls, as well as watch a pantomime."

"I'm not sure about London markets after this," Torie said dubiously.

"We had bad luck. The rabbit hutch was isolated from the crowd surrounding the cattle sales, which emboldened those men."

"I believe they were acquaintances of that horrid Crouch," Torie said. "We saw him outside, in the back."

Dominic suddenly stilled. "Did he attempt to detain you?"

"Simons went out first, and Crouch was waiting. You must give him a reward, Dom. Simons knocked him down with a terrific blow

on the jaw, kicked him around the corner, and then led the children out as if nothing had happened. They had no idea."

"Crouch was nowhere to be seen when I let all his rabbits out."

Torie nestled even closer, thinking that if she had to fall in love—an uncomfortable sensation, so far—she hadn't chosen badly.

"Your father let all the bunnies go free," she said to the twins.

"Brava!" Florence cried, throwing her hands in the air.

"No, brav o !" Valentine corrected. "He is male."

"Will you return to the House of Lords?" Torie asked, under cover of a spirited discussion of Latinate gendered interjections.

"Not after this."

Dominic's feelings were in a muddle. He'd left two injured men lying in the dirt without a backward glance. He'd protected his family, so that wasn't what was troubling him.

It was her. His wife. His buxom, beautiful wife.

Blue eyes calm again, her skin as beautiful as a summer peach, her lips red where she'd bitten them.

"I shall rest instead," he said, deciding he was merely in the grip of a healthy bout of lust. "It's been an exciting afternoon."

Her smile made his blood race.

"Before anything else, the entire family must take baths," Torie said, holding up her lace handkerchief. It was ripped and

smeared with mud. "I did warn you that I would be a very expensive wife, didn't I?"

"My boots are particularly revolting," Valentine said, sticking one out.

"Oddie needs a bath as well. His fur is clumped in—in some areas." Florence smiled impishly. "Did you see how proper I was?

The truth is that he's all matted at the rear end. Sometimes it's so hard to get at the truth because the Prohibited List

has eaten up so many useful words."

"We will ask Simons to wash your bunny in the stables," Torie said. "Hopefully once Oddie has an unsoiled cage, he will clean

himself."

"What about the mama and babies?"

"I have never seen a rabbit choosing to get wet," Torie replied. "If it begins to splatter, they disappear down their burrows,

so I think we should leave the mama to clean her babies and herself."

"We can put her and the babies in a box and ask Simons to wash both cages," Valentine suggested.

"They can hop around the nursery!" Florence exclaimed. "The mother and babies must spend at least one night with us before

they go to live in Green Park, because we need to sketch them."

She regarded Torie and Dominic with all the drama of a woman under threat of starvation. Or an artist denied her paints. "We must!"

"We have no time to go to Green Park today," Dominic said, tacitly agreeing to a night in the nursery.

"The mama rabbit is still trembling all over," Valentine reported.

"I feel the same," Torie murmured to Dominic.

He rubbed her stomach all the way home. "My poor viscountess," he murmured in her ear. "Luckily, I am certain that I can make

her feel better."

Torie leaned her head against his shoulder and thought he was probably right.

Definitely right.