Dukes By the Dozen

Probably because of her reaction. When he’d told her of his mother’s plans, she’d been downright horrified. Her face had gone pallid, she’d turned round with barely a word and plodded to her room. Could it be that Meg had accepted spinsterhood? That she was happy being alone? That thought made him slightly ill as well. He couldn’t countenance it. Not someone like her, so full of life and joy. She deserved love. Deserved to be cossetted and cared for. She deserved to have someone.

It was just the someones he had in mind that irked him.

He had no idea why.

With a sigh, he sanded and folded the list and stood, calling for Rodgers to come dress him for the day.

As he made his way down the curving staircase, he heard cries from the library and, recognizing those voices, changed course. He pushed open the door to see his girls nestled at Meg’s feet, staring in rapt attention as she read to them in whispered tones. Her voice rose as she came to some climax in the book and the girls squealed.

He couldn’t help but laugh.

The second they heard the sound, they sprang to their feet, shrieked in delight, and charged him like Huns on the battlefield. He barely braced himself before they hit.

“Papa! Papa!”

He picked them up, one by one, and swung them around, and then called them by each other’s names, because he knew it delighted them to think he couldn’t tell them apart in their mischief. Although he knew which was which. He could see it in their eyes.

“What are you doing here?” he asked with a smile at Meg.

“We’re reading,” she said primly, holding up a copy of The Swiss Family Robinson by Wyss.

“Ah,” he said. “Adventure.”

“On a tropical island!” Lizzie cried.

“I should like to go to a tropical island,” Vicca said. She’d always been the more daring of the two.

“They wanted to read this.” Meg gestured to a translation of Grimm’s Fairy Tales on the table. “But I decided it was far too ghastly for such tender minds.”

He took the book and thumbed through. “Excellent judgement,” he said with a laugh. How like his girls to prefer horror.

“Papa,” Vicca said, clutching his hand and staring up at him pleadingly. “Can we go outside and play in the snow? Meg said we had to wait until it was warmer.”

“Did she?” He glanced at Meg who nodded.

“You can take them, though,” she said, oh-so-helpfully. And then, when he grimaced, she chuckled. “You did say you wanted to spend more time with them.” She stood, brushed out her skirts, and patted down her hair. It annoyed him that she’d done it up in a tight, governess-like bun. Last night it had been down.

“You can come with us,” Lizzie told her earnestly.

Meg sniffed. “And get snowballs down my nape? I think not. Besides, now that your father is here, I need to go help your grandmother plan the party. She’s becoming annoyed with Mawbry for some reason.”

Jonathan knew damn well why his mother was annoyed with Mawbry—she so often was—but he also knew damn well that Meg was escaping. “Are you deserting me?” he asked in a petulant tone.

Her smile was broad and bright. “That I am,” she said, and before he could protest further, she whisked from the room, leaving him alone with two avaricious fiends who very badly wanted to pelt him with snowballs.

That was how they spent the rest of the morning, out in the snow, freezing and laughing and engaging in a very lopsided war. It occurred to him, several times, that what this family needed was another male. Or, at the very least, someone to fight on his side.

They were all tired and wet and happy when a carriage rolled up the lane, interrupting the battle. Jonathan, for one, was relieved to see his sister, Susana, poke her head out the window and wave.

Thank God.

Susana had two boys of her own who would, no doubt, help wear the girls out.

Susana also had the good sense to bring a governess, so as they all trooped into the house, this angel herded all the children upstairs for lunch and a much-needed nap time. Jonathan stripped off his wet outer clothing, and followed his sister and her husband, Christian, to the parlor, where Mother and Meg were having tea. He dropped into a chair with a heavy sigh, looking on dotingly as Meg and Susana greeted each other with warm hugs and kisses.

They’d all grown up together, in Devon, but Meg and Susana hadn’t seen each other since last Christmas.

As they sipped warm tea and feasted on cucumber sandwiches and cakes, the two young women chattered on, catching up. Susana did most of the talking, he noticed, sharing the adventures she’d had in London and in Inverness, where they had gone to visit her twin sister, Sara, and her Scottish husband. And wasn’t it a shame that Sara couldn’t come for Christmas? But what a blessing that she was increasing again.

Yes, Susana went on and on. But then, what did Meg have to share, really? She’d spent the last two years immured in the country at Pembroke running errands for his mother.