Page 16 of A Duchess for his Family

Marjorie turned to him. “You refused three times.”

“And on the fourth, I surrendered.”

“That is persistence rewarded.”

Amelia colored. “We did ask very much, Uncle.”

Tea was ordered. Her mother seated herself in the chair nearest Sophia. The Duke sat opposite, composed and watchful, while the twins settled as close to Sophia as manners allowed, which, in Marjorie’s opinion, seemed very close indeed.

“I wanted to ask you,” Amelia said, drawing a breath of courage, “whether you might recommend a novel suitable for me. Uncle says I am not to read anything alarming before bed, but Marjorie says everything worthwhile is alarming.”

“Not everything,” Marjorie corrected. “Only the best parts.”

Sophia’s smile grew. “Do you prefer adventure, history, or something with a happy ending?”

Amelia considered this with solemn importance. “May one have all three?”

“One may certainly try.”

Marjorie leaned forward. “And do you know any books with girls who climb things?”

The Duke’s gaze shifted at once. “Marjorie.”

“I am only asking about literature.”

“You are never only asking about literature.”

Marjorie looked at Sophia with pride. “I have climbed only one tree since we last met.”

The Duke looked, if anything, less grateful for this achievement than Marjorie had anticipated. “That number was meant to be none.”

“But it was a very small tree.”

“It was an apple tree.”

“With low branches.”

“You tore your stocking.”

“It was an old stocking.”

Amelia sighed with the weary tenderness of one who spent eight years loving an impossible person. “She also frightened the gardener.”

“He startles easily,” Marjorie shrugged.

Sophia could not help laughing then, and the sound seemed to change the room. Amelia smiled shyly. Marjorie beamed. Even the Duke’s severe mouth softened at one corner before he looked down into his tea as though the cup required stern attention.

The afternoon warmed around them. Sophia recommended books and promised Amelia a list. Marjorie asked whether heroines were allowed to be muddy. Amelia confessed she liked stories best when people were kind even after misunderstandings. Marjorie declared misunderstandings useful because they made everyone speak more loudly and therefore more honestly.

Sophia listened, answered, and felt a guarded place within her opening despite all her efforts to keep it closed. The girls did not make her feel awkward. They simply drew near. And across the tea table, the Duke watched with a still, intent attention that made Sophia aware of every time Amelia touched her sleeve, every time Marjorie leaned against her knee, every time her own voice grew softer.

At last, when the visit could not respectably be extended much longer, the twins were gathered. Amelia thanked Sophia for the promised list as though it were a treasure. Marjorie informed her that Rivermere had better trees than Keswick but that she was not to tell Uncle Benedict she said so.

“I heard that,” the Duke said.

“I know,” Marjorie replied cheerfully.

Near the door, he turned to Sophia. “Miss Norton, perhaps you and Lady Keswick would do us the honor of visiting Rivermere Hall. The girls would be pleased to show you the library.”