The earl put down his papers when he felt his son tug at the leg of his breeches. “Are you getting impatient for your tea, tiger?” he asked, scooping the child up into his arms and getting to his feet. “And that wicked Uncle Dominic is late. I think perhaps I hear him coming, though.”

The child shrieked with laughter as he was tossed toward the ceiling and caught again.

“You had better go and meet him,” the earl said, setting his son down again and watching as he scurried across the room to meet Lord Eden.

The child was soon being tossed in the air again.

“I should have asked before I did that if you have had your tea yet,” Lord Eden said. “You aren’t about to toss bread and jam all over my uniform, are you, old pal?”

“No, old pal,” the child said, laughing merrily.

“Any news?” Lord Amberley asked.

“More troops and artillery arriving daily,” Lord Eden said. “And the duke apparently bellowing for more. The usual.”

“Will it really come to war, Dominic?” the countess asked. “Surely Bonaparte could not be that foolhardy. The British are here, the Dutch and Belgians, the Prussians. And more arriving daily. And promise of troops from Austria and Russia.”

“I wouldn’t count on those last,” Lord Eden said, “and there aren’t enough of the former. And those soldiers we have are Johnny Raws, half of them. It’s a pity most of the veterans were sent off to America. It will be touch and go whether they will be back in time.”

Madeline surged to her feet, the baby held to her shoulder, contentedly sucking on the muslin of her day dress. “I hate all this talk of war,” she said. “Can we talk of nothing else here?”

“You should not have left England,” her twin said unsympathetically. “You have done nothing but grumble ever since you arrived, Mad. You should have stayed in London with Mama as she wanted you to do. And with Uncle William and Aunt Viola. Anna is making her come-out this spring, is she not?”