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best. We do want them to see proper manners in action. For supper, I’ve mostly been joining them in the schoolroom, in a supervisory manner, even if I’m dining out afterward. Cook usually sends something up at seven.”
    There was a pretty porcelain clock on the mantelpiece and to Caroline’s horror, it showed only ten minutes to seven. She had no time to unpack then, though she did spare a moment to unearth an apron to cover her skirts.
    “I’ll go get them washed up,” Dorothy said. “Tonight I’ve a dinner engagement, but I’ll be here to get you started at least. No panicking, dear.” Before Caroline could speak, Dorothy had bustled out the door and across the hall.
    As Caroline unpinned her hat and laid it atop a lovely cherry wood bureau, a sharp whistle cut through the sounds of laughter and pattering feet. Caroline tugged off her ugly black gloves and checked her hair in a lovely gilt mirror above the bureau. Not too many strands had come loose, thank heaven. She adjusted one pin, securing the biggest lock that had fallen out of her chignon, and washed her hands in the adjacent water closet—goodness, there was even a copper bathtub in here, with its own hot and cold taps. But there was no time now to explore her luxurious new surroundings. Taking one last fortifying breath, she straightened her spine and walked across the hall.

Chapter Four
     
    Chaos didn’t begin to describe the nursery. Actually, Caroline wasn’t sure the word nursery was an appropriate designation at the moment. Zoo might have been better—or asylum .
    One corner was littered with machines in various stages of dismemberment, along with a neatly arranged assortment of tools. Someone had at least rolled up the rug and laid down a swatch of oil cloth, but Caroline feared the polished oak floor would never be quite the same.
    Another section of the nursery contained all the typical toys—a rocking horse, soft wooly animals and what appeared to be several armies’ worth of tin soldiers, laid out in an intricate battle, using the soft toys and stacks of picture books as terrain obstacles.
    The room was oddly devoid of dolls. Not even a toy cradle or miniature pram was in sight. Interesting.
    Taking in all these details as she moved through the room at a steady pace, Caroline pressed onward, through a set of open pocket doors into the adjoining schoolroom—walking onto the field of battle, as it were. In here, two harried-looking maids and one footman valiantly attempted to serve dinner to the boisterous throng. Miss Hadrian sat at one end of the table while the place at the other end was laid but vacant. As the table was lower than a normal one—three-quarter sized to accommodate children of various ages—Miss Hadrian’s impressive stature made her look more than a little out of place.
    “Please, won’t you join us, Miss Bristol?” Her tone was even, but loud enough to be heard over the noise. “Boys, it’s customary for gentlemen to rise when a lady enters the room.”
    “Why?” The middle one—Piers?—scratched his head. One of the girls elbowed him though, and he scrambled to his feet, dragging the youngest chap with him. Across the table, Tommy, who was several inches taller than Caroline, unfolded himself from the too-small chair.
    “It’s just one of those things.” Caroline sent Piers a smile and allowed the sole attending footman to pull out her chair. “I don’t know if anyone knows a genuine reason for it, but it is a tradition, and people expect to see it.”
    “It is a sign of respect.” Miss Hadrian nodded at the boys. “And forgetting to do so conveys a lack thereof and insult to the lady in question. You may be seated now and resume your meal.”
    The younger children cocked their heads, while Wink shook hers and translated. “If you don’t stand, it means she’s not a lady, you dolts. You’re calling her a doxy.”
    That they understood.
    “Sorry, miss,” Tommy said hurriedly. The two younger