Page 2 of The Trouble With Her Duke
Damon poured himself a brandy and stared out the window of his study. It had snowed yesterday afternoon. A rare occurrence. He would have enjoyed taking the children riding this morning. But not after what had just happened.
Damon loved his children with every fiber of his being, but their unending mischief was creating unending headaches—the biggest one being the dwindling pool of governesses willing to work for him.
Where the hell am I going to find another governess three weeks before Christmas?
He downed the rest of his brandy, wondering what was taking the children so long. Stepping out of his study, he looked up the stairwell, spotting Mandy and Michael, both squatting on the upper landing, their heads peering between the railings. He suppressed a smile as he watched them whispering back and forth, no doubt trying to get their stories straight.
Damon cleared his throat. He thought he should be grateful to the children, realizing they had probably saved him from a trying interview with the woman when he ultimately dismissed her. But their outrageous behavior needed to stop. “Michael James, Amanda Lynn, come down here, now,” he demanded, summoning up a stern voice.
The two children freed themselves from the railings and trudged down the stairs to stand before him.
“Well?” he asked. “What do you have to say for yourselves?”
“Your Grace,” Jenkins said, interrupting as he rounded the corner. “As requested, I’ve instructed Colby to take Mrs. Tartan to the hotel. Although, I cannot imagine what got her withers in such a knot this morning. I . . .” The man halted when he looked down and saw the children. “I apologize for my interruption. I suppose I was swept away with the urgency of the moment,” Jenkins said with a bow of his head.
“No need. Please stay. Michael and Mandy were just getting ready to tell us, Jenkins,” Damon said and nodded at Michael.
The twins looked at each other, then back at him. “It was my idea,” they said at the same time.
“Your loyalty to each other is most commendable. I cannot wait to hear this tale.”
“It’s no tale, Father,” Michael said.
“Honest, Father,” Mandy added.
“We were on a nature walk yesterday afternoon.”
“Mrs. Tartan asked us to collect leaves and branches for our botany studies.”
“We arrived at the pond . . .”
“Where we heard a bullfrog . . .”
“We hadn’t seen a bullfrog in such a long time . . .”
“Not since last spring . . .”
“I caught him.” Michael pushed his thumb into his puffed-up chest.
“We named him Bully,” Mandy added with a smile.
“But Bully wasn’t alone . . .”
“He had a family . . .”
“Little bitty babies . . .”
“They looked so hungry and cold . . .”
“We couldn’t leave them to perish . . .”
“More frogs?” Damon asked in disbelief. He pressed his lips together to maintain his serious look.
“Yes, Father. But then, Mrs. Tartan started calling our names, so . . .” Mandy continued.
“So, we rescued them,” Michael finished.
“And what did you intend to do with them, exactly?” Damon asked, his lips twitching as he tried not to laugh. He recalled his own childhood nurse had given him such a scolding when she had discovered a frog in a box under his bed. She told him that if a frog urinated on him, it would give him warts for life. Given that he was only six, her warning had had the desired effect, and he had returned the frog to the pond the next day.
