Don’t worry. Don’t worry about a thing. Papa is here.” The kitchen door crashed open, and Deirdre nearly dropped the new cake of scented soap she had fetched from the laundry. And when she saw his lordship straggle in, soaking wet and with the baroness limp in his arms, Pratt shadowing him, drop it she did. As the wind gusted the rain in with them, everyone in the kitchen leaped to their feet with a cacophony of questions. Deirdre’s eyes remained fixed on Lady Berkeley. And on the red stain coloring