Page 16 of The Duke In My Bed (The Heirs’ Club of Scoundrels #1)

Young in limbs, in judgment old.

“And the little boy promised he would never run away again.”

Louisa closed the book and looked down at Bonnie’s sweet face, over to Sybil’s peaceful expression, and then down to the foot of the bed, where Saint lay curled.

They were all asleep. After all the excitement of finding Nathan’s dog and then playing with him in the back garden until dark, Louisa thought it would take the girls a long time to settle down and fall asleep.

She had been wrong. She was less than five pages into the story when she noticed the squirming and sighing had ceased, but she kept reading.

It was soothing and peaceful to read aloud into the quietness.

She slowly rose from the bed and reached over to blow out the candle. Saint had raised his head and was looking at her. “Lie back down and go back to sleep,” she whispered. He paid her no mind and started to rise. “Stay,” she said in a stronger voice, and held her hand out as if to stop him.

Saint immediately lay back down but kept his head up and his dark, watchful eyes alert to her every movement.

“Stay,” she said again. “You must stay with the girls.”

He turned to look at the girls at the head of the bed, and then—as if satisfied that he had a job to do—he placed his head on his front paws.

Louisa knew Bonnie and Sybil would be upset if Saint were gone from their room when they woke in the morning. She blew out the candle and quietly left the room, closing the door behind her.

The light was still on in Mrs. Colthrust’s and in Gwen and Lillian’s bedchambers as she walked by.

It was still rather sad to Louisa that the older girls no longer wanted her to come in and say good night to them.

Gwen insisted long ago that they were much too old to be read to or tucked in, and Louisa had reluctantly agreed.

It had been dark for quite some time, but she wasn’t sleepy. She decided to go belowstairs and read in the sitting room before dressing for bed. She had so much on her mind, and reading might help get her thoughts off the maddening Duke of Drakestone so she could get a peaceful night’s slumber.

She took her book from the secretary where she kept it and made herself comfortable in one of the upholstered wing chairs near the fireplace.

The coals had been banked over an hour ago, but there was still a little warmth issuing from the bricks.

She pulled her feet up under her and opened the book.

She stared at the page but didn’t read past the first paragraph before the duke filled her thoughts once again.

Louisa knew His Grace was a scoundrel long before she had ever met him. Still, she didn’t want to believe him capable of deliberately keeping Saint from them. But what other explanation could there be?

She supposed he might just have been too busy to think that Nathan’s sisters would want his pet?

The Duke of Drakestone was obviously a powerful and wealthy man.

It was safe to assume he always had people demanding his attention, and mountains of work to do to ensure that his managers and overseers took proper care of his estates, properties, horses, and the like.

Even Nathan, who had far less lands and fewer companies than the duke, had to give a certain amount of time each month to looking over account books and ledgers, reading correspondence, and meeting with gentlemen about different kinds of businesses.

And perhaps her uncle had to bear part of the blame.

He’d sworn to her he looked high and low for Saint, but now she was questioning whether he’d made every possible effort, as he claimed.

If her uncle was capable of turning their guardianship over to the duke—and leaving the country without telling her—then no doubt he was capable of stretching the truth about how diligently he had looked for Nathan’s dog.

And now that the heat of the moment had passed and she’d had time to get over the shock of finding Saint alive, she was more inclined to forgive the duke for not trying to get the pet to them.

She couldn’t get it out of her mind that although he’d kept his emotions tightly under control, it bothered him when she’d accused him of deliberately keeping the spaniel from them.

When Louisa accused His Grace of ignoring Saint as he had her for the past two years, his eyes had twitched slightly.

“Good,” she said out loud. She wanted to know that he felt some guilt or shame or something because Nathan had lost his life.

She couldn’t be too upset with the duke. He had kept Saint safe for them. If he’d been left in the park as she once believed, they would never have seen him again.

Earlier, when Sybil and Bonnie climbed into bed, Saint had jumped up and immediately gone to the foot of the bed and lay down as if he’d been doing it all his life. Of course, he’d done that with Nathan. Louisa couldn’t help but wonder if the duke had let Saint sleep on the foot of his bed, too.

She remembered him saying, “You, I ignored, but I took care of the dog.” And from all appearances, he had. She could see that Saint was well fed and washed often because of his shiny coat.

“So now, Your Grace, I know that you take better care of your dogs than you do young ladies,” she mumbled to herself. “This doesn’t surprise me in the least, given your scandalous reputation and your obvious dislike of small children.”

That was another reason why she couldn’t consider marrying him.

Though she did smile and chuckle a little at the thought he might be worried that she would one day actually ask him to marry her.

If she ever wanted to put a scare in him, she was sure that a marriage proposal would do it.

She was convinced he didn’t want to marry her any more than she wanted to wed him.

Louisa laughed softly to herself again when she thought of how the duke had flinched when Bonnie squealed with high-pitched happiness. She had to admit, Bonnie’s voice seemed to be higher than that of most little girls, and it was ear-piercing, but Louisa was used to it.

He had been completely at a loss for what to do when Bonnie hugged him, and he hadn’t known what to say when Sybil was crying over the dropped music box handle.

Obviously he wasn’t used to emotional little girls.

He hadn’t had a clue how to handle Sybil’s tears or receive and appreciate Bonnie’s gratitude.

Now that she thought about it, she didn’t think he knew anything about girls.

Louisa knew from her brother and father that men didn’t handle situations the way a female would.

They were more stoic and less inclined to show their happiness or sadness, though the duke seemed to be much stiffer around children than any other man she’d ever seen.

Whenever Bonnie or any of the sisters had hugged her father and brother, they knew how to accept the girls’ affection and hug them back.

Too, Louisa was having a difficult time sorting out why she felt the way she did whenever the duke was near her.

No, he didn’t have to be near her; all she had to do was see him, or just think about him as she was doing right now, and she started feeling strange sensations in parts of her body that had never been awakened before.

And during the midst of their heated argument, when once again his face had been so close to hers, why did she have a great urge to feel his lips on hers?

That was exasperating—shocking, too. She wasn’t sure she even liked the man.

He was impatient, arrogant, and formidable, not to mention overbearing and infuriating.

And he doesn’t like children!

Still, as much as she hated to admit it to herself, there was no denying she was attracted to him.

She remembered feeling his breath against her cheek when he’d vehemently denied keeping the dog from them.

With a snap, she closed the book and laid it on her lap.

She shut her eyes and laid her head against the back of the chair.

She wanted to rest, relax, and summon the delicious tingling that swept across her breasts and tightened them whenever he was near.

Oh yes, she wanted to experience that again.

“Sister.”

Louisa jumped. Her eyes popped open and her book fell to the floor even though she immediately recognized Gwen’s voice. Thank goodness she hadn’t been speaking her thoughts out loud. “Gwen, Lillian, I didn’t hear you come belowstairs.”

“We didn’t mean to startle you,” Gwen said, brushing her long, golden hair over her shoulders to her back.

“No, you didn’t,” Louisa said, picking up her book.

“Were you sleeping?”

“Ah, no, I thought you would have been asleep by now. I was just deep in thought about something and not expecting to hear a voice. What are you two doing down here?”

“May we talk with you about something?” Gwen asked.

“Of course.” Louisa put her feet on the floor and said, “Come sit by me and tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I’d rather stand,” Gwen said.

“I’ll stand, too,” Lillian added.

An uneasy feeling washed over Louisa as she stared at her very grown-up-looking sisters in their long white nightrails, their long curls caressing their shoulders.

Lillian held her hands behind her back and swung back and forth, fidgeting as was her habit when she was upset about something.

Gwen played with the ends of the ribbon that held her gown together, and she sniffed and twitched her nose nervously.

“All right,” Louisa said, feeling the need to rise, too, but she forced herself to remain seated and calm. Something had disturbed them, but what? Was it about Saint, the visit to the duke’s house, or something else? “What do you want to talk about?”

“Is it true you are going to marry the duke and leave us with Mrs. Colthrust?” The words tumbled so quickly from Lillian’s mouth that Louisa wasn’t sure she’d heard her correctly.

“What?” Louisa jumped up.