Henry nodded. “Yes. He was here yesterday. He played chess with Clara. I want to ask if he’ll teach me to win.” The boy’s face wore a seriousness that would have gotten him elected to Parliament.
Clara pounced on the opportunity. “We want to chase him around the house.”
Miss Mercer glanced up, her smile briefly tightening. “The Duke is in his study, I believe,” she supplied, “but I expect he will be down for tea.”
“Can we go find him?” Henry’s voice was plaintive, but in that calculated way children use when they sense a Yes in the air.
Nancy set her book aside, stood, and smoothed her skirts. “You may,” she said, “so long as you do not break anything expensive or living.” She eyed them both. “Do you promise?”
“Promise,” said Clara, already at the door. “Come on, Henry!”
Miss Mercer rose, dusted imaginary lint from her skirt, and nodded to Nancy. “Would you like me to supervise, Your Grace?”
Nancy shook her head, smiling. “I think I’ll manage the chaos this time. If you want a respite, feel free to stay and stitch.”
Edith inclined her head, that unwavering smile never once shifting. “As you wish, Duchess.”
Henry and Clara pelted into the hallway, their footsteps thunderous on the runner. Nancy followed at a more dignified pace, pausing only long enough to hear Edith resume her measured, perfect breathing behind her.
She is too good to be true. Or perhaps too good to be harmless.
The hallway outside was empty. Not a sign of either twin.
“Clara?” Nancy called.
There was a giggle from somewhere above, then silence.
“Henry?”
A crash, followed by a thud. “I’m fine!” Henry shouted, in the universal language of boys who have just attempted and failed to invent flight.
Nancy’s heart thumped, but she heard no scream, so she let it pass. The children knew the house better than she did, by now.
She had just reached the stair landing when the twins materialized at her elbow.
“Uncle Oscar is in the library,” Clara said, clutching her sleeve. “We saw him through the glass.”
“I want to ask if he’ll play the blindfold game,” Henry whispered, but not quietly enough.
Nancy snorted. “You think you can trick a duke?”
“He’s not a duke when he’s blindfolded,” Henry explained, as if this were the simplest logic.
They were at the library doors now. Nancy knocked, out of habit, then opened it.
Oscar was at his desk, surrounded by books, pen in hand. He looked up, startled, as if three banshees had just materialized from the ether.
“Hello,” Nancy said, stepping in. “You have company.”
He set his pen down. “I see that.” He regarded the children, who stood at rapt attention. “What is it this time? A mutiny, or a request for sweets?”
“Neither,” said Clara, boldly. “We want to play hide-and-seek.”
Oscar’s eyebrows arched. “Here? In the house?”
Nancy glanced at him, then at the twins. “We promise not to break anything irreplaceable,” she said.
He looked at Nancy, as if trying to divine the trap. “You’re joining us, Duchess?”
