Chapter Twenty-Two

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It was dark by the time they arrived home. Rogers scrambled from the driver's seat to stand next to Mrs. Rogers, Wilcott, Cook, Nurse Hollings, and the lesser servants. Tugging down his coattails, he stood as erect as his stooped frame would allow.

Shepridge End's torches were lit, illuminating the entrance and courtyard. Its staff were lined up outside Charity noted as she looked through the carriage window. She couldn't help but blink at the formality. They'd never stood on such ceremony before at Shepridge End.

"What, I wonder, is this all about?" Charity mused, shifting her gaze to look at her husband.

Julian, nonplussed, merely shrugged. He was likely used to such displays at his other homes, she surmised. Gently, she woke Catherine who was asleep on her lap.

"We're home, moppet," Charity whispered into her daughter's curls.

There was a soft glint in Julian's eyes as he watched Charity. Then, he lowered them before she could think too much of it and addressed the sleeping child on his lap. "We're home. It's time to wake up, Phea."

The little girl looked up at her father, smiling at his nickname for her. Charity found she liked it as well. Catherine tried it out but ended up calling her, "Flea," which did not go over well with her sibling.

Their parents were still laughing as a footman opened the carriage door. Julian exited and began handing the twins down. Then, he turned to offer Charity his hand. As she stepped onto the pebbled drive, she noted Lord Nevill coming down the front steps. He'd ridden ahead on horseback and was likely the one responsible for the line of servants.

Charity couldn't help but giver her head a little shake. Edmund was back to playing the dandy who needed everything just so; even if it meant meddling with her household. He gave her a superbly innocent look that had her thinking he was just the opposite.

The upper servants surrounded the twins. Joy at their safe return was tantamount. Soon, however, Mrs. Rogers expressed her exacerbation with Phoebe for leading her sister astray. Before Charity or Julian could intervene and correct her misassumption, Phoebe stomped her little foot and crossed her arms. A mutinous expression came across her cherubic features. "Bad Mama bad! I no bad!"

Those on the portico and stairs stilled as everyone took in her words. Julian broke the silence which had descended. "Phoebe is correct. They were abducted at Breeley Court and did not wander off on their own."

Phoebe gave anyone who was watching a single "so-there" nod. This led to more of an uproar surrounding the twins. They basked in the attention; Catherine in her shy, cautious manner and Phoebe as if it were her due.

Julian shook his head and murmured to Charity, "We are going to have our hands full when they come out." He glanced at their daughters, then added, "With Phea especially. Although," he added, his whisper dropping to a more dire tone, "I've found it's the quiet ones who bear watching."

Charity shook her head at him. All that was a long way off yet.

As Charity walked up the stairs on her husband's arm, the servants bowed and curtsied. As they passed, each murmured, "Lady Wrotham." It was her first, official welcome to Shepridge End.

Looking up at Julian, her eyes welled. "Thank you," Charity whispered. It was likely he who asked Edmund to make the arrangements. Covering her hand with his, he gave her fingers a gentle squeeze in response.

Lord Nevill rescued the girls, and they followed close behind. Once they entered the house, he gave them up to their nurse and Rogers who took on the role of mother hen, much to his sister's chagrin. Julian and Charity stopped in the foyer. The butler's, "I knew you wasn't responsible," floated down the stairs as the girls were taken to their room.

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