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brother! I swear, that boy cannot keep his temper to himself!”

 
    CHAPTER 3 ~ A
LADY’S SECRET
     
    One moment they were in the throes
of battle, the next, Thomas was gone. Andover swiped at his lip, and came away
with blood. Wary, he looked for the next blow and realized Upton held a
struggling Thomas, whose eye was worse than Andover’s lip.
    “Stop it! Both of you!” Upton
commanded. “The women have seen and are coming.”
    Not the auspicious start Andover
anticipated for his betrothal.
    Andover gingerly touched his lip
again, sniffed at a leaking nose, and realized that was bloody as well. His
handkerchief was in his coat pocket, feet away, and, as Upton had warned, Lady
Westhaven and Felicity hurried down the slope he had just traversed with such
happiness.
    Desperately, he tried for a
semblance of order, ran fingers through his hair, attempted to straighten his
soiled cravat. It was undone, his pin—the one his father had given
him—gone. He looked to the ground, amazed that tears had come to his
eyes.
    Mourning the loss of a loved one
held no clock, no sense of propriety. It hit when it chose to hit and damned be
the man who scorned it. A sparkle of blue caught his eye. He reached to
retrieve the sapphire and was laid flat, tackled. Young Edward caught him off
guard, sat atop him and pummeled with surprising force. Cries and shouts of the
other children rang out, as Andover managed to push Edward off, held him to the
ground.
    “You beat up my brother!” The boy
strained to get free, as a dainty foot collided with the small of Andover’s
back. Over his shoulder, he saw little Annabel, all of eight years, unrepentant
and ready to give him another kick. Her twin, Charles, behind her, mulish and
restless, restrained himself, most likely by fairness, one against one and all.
One opening and he’d be in the fray like a shot.
    “Whoa!” Upton declared, “Your
brother hit first.” He pulled a squirming Annabel back.
    “I don’t care!” Edward seethed, but
Andover eased his hold, as the fight left the boy with Upton’s information.
    Thomas was no help, standing aside,
laughing.
    “What is the meaning of this?” Lady
Westhaven pulled Edward to his feet. “Where is your tutor?” She spotted the
beleaguered man, running to the scene, the children’s governess hurrying along
at his side. “Mr. Pipping, Miss Mary, would you please take these children
inside and see that they are not allowed outside again today.”
    “But, Mama…” Little Beth argued. “I
was good.”
    “You watched a brawl, which is not
what young ladies do.”
    “But I’m not a young lady, I’m just
a little girl.” Beth stomped her foot, arms crossed firmly across her chest.
    Exasperated, Lady Westhaven sternly
eyed the caregivers, who rounded up the children.
    “Are you hurt?” Felicity put a hand
on Andover’s arm. Embarrassed, he turned away, his sapphire pin clasped in one
hand. “Here.” She handed him a sturdy handkerchief.
    “Look at the two of you.” Lady
Westhaven fussed over Thomas, whose eye had already gotten worse, his sleeve
torn from the shirt. “What sort of example did you intend to set?”
    Andover staunched his bleeding,
stood still as Felicity looked at his lip, surprised by his fierce
possessiveness. The raw, unfamiliar sensation raged with the sure knowledge
that Felicity did not go to her brother, though Andover was certain Thomas
looked worse than he did, nor did she stay safely with her mother. She had come
to him.
    He fought to calm the brutishness
of it, put it down to base humors raised by a fight.
    Upton, always one to deflect
trouble, muttered, “men are but boys.”
    “Forever.” Lady Westhaven snapped.
“Come, you two. We’ll see if Lucy has time to tend to your wounds.”
    “Lucy?” Thomas snarled. Lady Westhaven
shot him a hard glance. Still, Thomas continued. “What about Felicity?”
    “Don’t be ridiculous. That would be
absolutely unsuitable.”
    “Unsuitable?” Thomas