Page 3 of The Trouble With Her Duke
“We didn’t quite think ahead, Father.” Michael gave a helpless shrug.
“We just wanted to keep them warm on account of the snow,” Mandy added quickly, giving her brother an elbow in the side.
“We were going to return them once we built them a new home.”
“After we asked Jenkins for some scrap wood.”
“But when we got back, Mrs. Tartan yelled at us for having mud on our shoes . . .”
“She made me so mad!” Mandy huffed. “She called us knotheads.” Mandy fisted her hands on her hips in indignation.
“Knotheads?” Damon turned and looked at Jenkins, who shook his head in confusion.
“I never heard her speak ill of the children, Your Grace,” the retainer said.
“Go on,” Damon said, folding his arms. Wasn’t tattling the same as speaking ill?
“Yes, knotheads,” Michael repeated with a firm nod.
“What happened next?” Damon prodded.
“We snuck into her room and tucked Bully and his family into her half-boots . . .”
“Mostly to keep them warm . . .” Mandy added.
“Mrs. Tartan has enormous feet, and her boots were a perfect temporary home for our new friends.”
“But then, Mrs. Tartan had us write our apologies ten times in a row for being late and having mud on our shoes,” Mandy huffed.
“And then she ordered us to go to bed . . .”
“And you forgot about Bully and his family,” Damon said.
“Until this morning,” Michael said.
“When she put her boots on,” Mandy added.
“She ran into the nursery yelling and waving her shoes in the air . . .” Michael said.
“Which were covered in Bully’s green, slimy poo,” Mandy added.
“Honestly, we didn’t know he would do that!” Michael said, exchanging a worried glance with his sister.
“And the other frogs? Where are they?” Damon asked.
“I suspect, here and there,” Michael added, with another uncertain shrug.
Damon imagined Mrs. Tartan herself had unwittingly let the frogs escape when she ran shrieking from her room.
Jenkins, who’d stood in silence throughout the children’s explanation, broke into a sudden cough, which sounded suspiciously like smothered laughter.
Damon turned to his retainer and winked. “Jenkins, please let Mrs. Jenkins know we’ll need a thorough cleaning of the children’s nursery . . . and the governess’s room . . . and perhaps the hallway. And please alert the footmen to search for the missing frogs and return them to the pond.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Jenkins said, his eyes dancing with mirth.
Damon considered himself lucky to have Jenkins and his wife on his staff. He hadn’t been certain when the two most important members of his staff had approached him to ask for his permission to marry. He’d given them his blessing, of course. The Jenkins’ wedding had brought some much-needed joy to the household and had made his loyal staff even more tightly knit. All the better because the turnover of governesses created by his two rambunctious children was more than he could handle in domestic affairs. Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins had proved a godsend. If only governesses could be as patient, kind, and good-humored as his butler and housekeeper.
“Anything else you wish to add?” Damon asked the twins.
