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“And a soap,” Caldwell added, already moving toward the door. “I will make sure that Robbie returns clean from our journey.”

Pleased with himself, Caldwell went to prepare for the outing. He would need his collecting jars, a net for aquatic specimens, and perhaps his field notebook to record any interesting findings.

The letter to the Linnean Society could wait.

Chapter 5

Three Years Later…

Dear Lydia,

I am happy to hear that you’ve found that elusive item that might finally make our trip from England possible. However, getting into Hades Hell might not be as easy as you make it sound. I do not doubt your abilities, but please, be careful. More careful than you have ever been.

I would never forgive myself if my haste to leave the country prompted you to get into trouble.

And yes, the day of E’s debut is looming, but I still have a year safely tucked in the countryside.

I have to admit that my heart aches from the thought of leaving this household behind. I have grown quite attached—”

Honoria crossed out the last two sentences. Too maudlin, too revealing.

Honoria didn’t want Lydia to think that she’d changed her mind. She hadn’t, although she wished more and more that she could stay at Caldwell Manor forever. But Lydia had worked so hard to collect a good sum of money, allowing them both to leave British soil.

And Honoria still had very pressing reasons for wanting—nay, needing—to leave.

She had become lulled into a false sense of security at Caldwell Manor… It would only take one event, one random meeting with the man she had run away from for her life to change for the worse.

She dipped her quill into the inkwell.

I have not yet told the earl or the children that I will be leaving soon. I don’t want to worry them in case our plans change suddenly. But I will be praying for your success.

Wishing you all the luck at Hades Hell and waiting impatiently on your missive after your successful undertaking.

Love, Honor.

Honoria glanced at her timepiece. Twenty-five minutes past four. Just in time for her daily reports to the earl. She folded the letter and hid it in between the pages of her book. She’d send it later.

Honoria stood, dusted her apron, collected her ledgers, and hurried out of her room.

She moved through the east corridor, her skirts rustling against the polished floors, humming a cheery tune under her breath. The afternoon sun streamed through tall windows, catching on the myriad of potted plants that lined the sills—ferns, orchids, and succulents arranged in artistic clusters.

With the help of the gardener, Mr. and Mrs. Clarke’s fifty-year-old son, Muriel, Honoria had managed to cultivate her own little mini-garden inside the house. She used to be surprised by the fact that the earl, despite his botanical pursuits, had his entire home bare of greenery before her arrival. Although, perhaps, that was intentional on his part. He wasn’t very organized, as was evident by the way he kept his study, nor was he very apt at decorating his space.

She quickly made her way to the earl’s study and paused outside the heavy oak door, taking a moment to straighten her collar and smooth a wayward strand of hair that had escaped her chignon, then knocked firmly on the door.

“Enter,” came the deep voice from within.

Honoria pushed open the door and stepped into the study. “Good afternoon, my lord,” she greeted and approached his desk.

He looked up briefly, dark brown eyes meeting hers for just a moment before returning to his papers. “Hart,” he said, the closest thing to a welcome she was likely to receive.

Honoria handed him her financial ledger. “I’ve prepared the weekly expenditure report for your review.” He took the ledger and opened it, relaxing in his chair. Honoria watched his long fingers as he began gently flipping through the pages. “Everything remains within the budgetary parameters you established.”

The earl merely nodded, his gaze on the ledger before him.

“The children require a few items,” she continued. “I have noted them all at the end, from the most necessary to the least.” She hesitated, then added, “Elise has become quite passionate about her piano studies and has requested additional music sheets. Perhaps you might inquire with one of your London acquaintances?”

The earl made a noncommittal grunt, making a note in the margins of the ledger. Honoria waited a moment before continuing. “Robbie continues to excel in his studies. His tutors all say he is ready for Eton, although I think he is still too young.” She paused, choosing her next words carefully. “And there is still an issue regarding his hygiene. He continues to avoid baths whenever possible. While swimming in the stream is a good solution for the summer”—she cleared her throat—“the colder months are still a struggle. I wonder if perhaps introducing a valet might be helpful? A male perspective on the matter might carry more weight.” Or perhaps you could talk to him.