Read Twelfth Night Secrets for Free Online Page B

and a basket of macaroons, and harmony continued to reign.
    When they had finished, she put aside her napkin. “If you’ll excuse us, gentlemen, we’ll leave you to your port. It’s time the children were in bed.”
    “We’re not tired,” Tom protested.
    “No, not in the least,” Grace stated. “I haven’t yawned once.”
    “Nevertheless, Nurse Maddox will be waiting for you. Say good night.” Harriet rose from the table, and reluctantly the twins followed suit. They dutifully bade their grandfather and his guest good night, and their sister hustled them out of the salon.
    “We’ll repair to the library soon, my dear,” Lionel said. “We’ll take tea there.”
    “I’ll be down shortly.” She propelled the children past the footman holding the door and hurried them up to the nursery floor, where she left them in the charge of their nurse and her underlings.
    “We’re going to ride our ponies tomorrow, Harry,” Tom informed her as she kissed him good night.
    “Yes, we have to practice before the hunt,” Grace said. “Just riding in the park in town isn’t as exciting as riding across the fields and jumping the hedges, is it?” Her voice was muffled as one of the nursemaids lifted her muslin dress over her head.
    “No, probably not,” Harriet agreed. “We must hope it’s a fine day tomorrow.” She blew them a final kiss and left the nursery with a sense of liberation. An entire day in the twins’ close company was quite exhausting. She went to her own chamber before continuing downstairs. Agnes was passing a copper warming pan between the sheets as Harriet came in.
    “Oh, m’lady, are you coming to bed now?”
    “No, no, not yet, Agnes. In an hour, perhaps.” She sat at the dresser and adjusted her hair, repositioning a couple of pins that had worked loose, before going down to the library. It was empty, the men were still sitting over their port, but Mallow had brought in the tea tray, and she sat by the fire, poured herself a cup, and took up a copy of the Morning Gazette. She had read only a few lines when the door opened.
    “Ah, Lady Harriet . . . did the children go to bedwithout complaint?” The Earl smiled as he came over to the fire.
    “I left before they could start complaining,” she said, pouring tea and handing him the cup. “Did you leave the Duke at the table?”
    “No, he said he was fatigued and was going straight upstairs. I was to wish you a good night. He will see you at breakfast, ‘without the brats,’ and I quote.” He sat opposite her and took a sip of tea, still smiling at her over the lip.
    “He puts on a pretense of finding them annoying, but generally, they amuse him as long as they don’t get under his feet,” she said, wondering why she felt a little quavery, as if she were nervous about something. It couldn’t be because she was alone with the man, surely?
    “I rather thought so. But what of you, Lady Harriet? It must be quite a burden to assume the day-to-day responsibility for such a lively pair?” He sounded genuinely concerned, genuinely interested, and his eyes were on her again with that warm glow that made her feel oddly special.
    “It was certainly easier when Nick was around,” she replied, carefully folding the Gazette, using the task to conceal her strange agitation. “We had responsibilityfor them, really, since they were born. Our mother died in childbirth, and our father was not around very often. He seemed content to leave them in the nursery and let them grow as they would.” She shrugged a little, laying the newspaper on the table beside the tea tray. “It’s not an unusual way of parenting, but Nick and I were more interested in them, we felt an obligation, and it grew from that.”
    “It must be doubly hard for you now, then?”
    “Yes,” she said bluntly. “You say you knew Nick well?”
    “As well as I’ve ever known anyone,” he responded.
    “How did you meet?” she asked casually, pouring herself more tea.