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Barclay had searched for Tatiana throughout the splendid home of Saunton Park. When he had drawn his first plans for a similar large and extravagant building, it had been the greatest of honors, but now that he searched for one small girl who liked to hide, he could curse the wasteful spending that created such long halls with so many ridiculous rooms sprawling in every direction.

How the peerage lived in such vast spaces was something he could not comprehend. If he, Tsar, Aurora, and Tatiana lived in such a home, they would not see each other for days on end. Their London townhouse was quite sufficient for a family of means.

Stopping in the great hall, he glanced up at the richly colored, oversized oil paintings of Balfour ancestors in ornate gilded frames and tried to think where else he might look for his child. He had been certain she was with her grandmother, but when he had found Aurora sitting with the ladies for tea in a large drawing room of blue and gold, she had not seen Tatiana since breakfast when she thought the child had left with him.

Barclay encouraged her to continue her tea, mindful that his mother was making important connections with well-placed women of high society, which would elevate her status when they returned to London.

Aurora had mentioned Jane in parting, but Barclay had not found her in his search for Tatiana. Was it possible they were together somewhere? Tatiana seemed quite taken with the young woman, so she might have sought her out.

Ethan had mentioned during the chess match the day before that Jane had trouble sleeping.

Could she be in the family wing still?

He turned and began the long walk to the family wing, where he heard his daughter’s voice echoing down the hall. Following the sound, he reached a door that stood ajar.

This had to be the young lady’s room. He noted it was right next to his mother’s as he raised his hand to knock and then lowered it to listen to the conversation floating out into the corridor.

“Mama used to read to me every night.”

“Every night!” exclaimed Jane. “That is an admirable mother. What did she read to you?”

“My favorite were the ones she read from Abian Nights.”

“Do you mean Arabian Nights’ Entertainments?”

“Yes! That is it!”

“I was just reading Aladdin last evening. See, it is there next to my bed.”

“Oooh! It has been so long since I heard that one.”

Tatiana sounded both excited and disappointed at the same time, leaving Barclay feeling guilty. Had he not paid sufficient attention to his child since Natalya had left them? He ensured he spent time with her and took her to the park regularly, but somehow he had not realized that she might miss the simple joy of a story at bedtime. Perhaps he had been too consumed by his own grief and failed to notice how his daughter was suffering.

“I can read it to you, if you wish?”

Jane’s offer surprised him. She had no obligation to his daughter, but she freely offered her time. It was a generous gesture. Surely a young woman like her had more absorbing ways to pass her time than in the company of a child. What of the fidgety young gentleman she had been spending time with since the cricket match the day before?

Realizing he was shamelessly eavesdropping, Barclay raised his hand to knock. He heard a chair shifting and then Tatiana’s light footsteps as she raced across the room to peer around the corner of the door, which was only open by a few inches.

“Papa!”

“There you are, young lady. I have been searching everywhere for you.” He noticed the fragrance of strawberries and almonds wafting in the air. It was a pleasant scent, sweet and fresh, mingling with the sunlight streaming in from the window.

“Jane and I were using strawberry water and almond oil for our faces.”

Barclay tilted his head in confusion. What on earth does that entail?

At that moment, Jane swung the door open to appear in her night rail and wrap, looking a little embarrassed by her attire as she crossed her arms. The gesture pulled the soft fabric snug, highlighting the gentle curves of her form. Barclay did his best to keep his eyes on her face—which only drew his attention to the glorious ebony hair plaited to drape over her shoulder, a few tendrils curling loose to frame her cheeks.

Her cheeks were flushed, likely from the warmth of the room and whatever ritual she had been engaged in with his daughter. The delicate scent of strawberries and almonds wafted from the room, mingling with the sunlight streaming in from the window.

She is too young for you, Barclay. What are you doing, noticing her like this?

“I apologize if I interrupted,” he managed, his voice hoarse.

Every rational instinct Barclay possessed screamed at him to maintain his composure, and he firmed his jaw to prevent himself from acting on any foolish impulses.

“I hope you do not mind? Tatiana joined me when I awoke, but I left my door open in the event you came looking for her.”