Chapter Ten
April 9th, 1807
Devonshire
Marcus and Sir Barnaby set off to explore the cave in the morning, with four of the outdoors servants. By noon, they still hadn’t returned. Merry took to twisting her handkerchief. “Relax,” Charlotte told her, feeding Charles in the sunlit nursery. “Marcus promised they’d take no risks.”
“But what if the roof falls on their heads!”
“It won’t. Sit down and stop shredding that poor handkerchief—and tell me, am I wrong in thinking that Sir Barnaby is . . .” Charlotte’s brow creased as she searched for a word. “Easing?”
Merry sat, and allowed herself to be distracted. “You’re not wrong. He’s growing more comfortable with Marcus and he’s a lot easier in himself.”
“Good. That’s what I thought—but I don’t have your eyes.”
Merry smoothed out her handk
