No sooner had she said that than the sound of carriage wheels rolling on gravel reached them. With a grin, Rhys preceded her to the door.
From inside the carriage came a war-cry and a blur of small bodies. First, a young boy, then two younger ones, all red-cheeked and wild-eyed.
Rhys opened the door before the footman had even mounted the steps. “Brace yourself,” he called to Celine over his shoulder, and then stepped into the fray.
The children launched themselves at him.
“Uncle Rhys!” the eldest shouted, clinging to his leg.
The twins latched onto his coat, nearly toppling him backward.
Celine watched, rooted to the spot, as the Duke of Wylds allowed himself to be tackled by three small children. He ruffled their hair, endured their shrieks, and even let the eldest drag him to the grass as if felled by a prizefighter.
The twins chorused, “Again, again,” and Rhys obliged, wrestling gently and pretending, with theatrical groans, to be overwhelmed by their combined might.
Celine stood at the top of the steps, feeling oddly detached. She’d seen Rhys charm dowagers and debutantes, but this was… different. He looked happy, if such a word could be used to describe a man who had been up all night, brooding over estate ledgers and feigning indifference to her presence.
The children eventually spotted her, staring as if she were a display at the British Museum.
Rhys extricated himself from their grasp and brushed the grass from his waistcoat. “Children, come meet my Duchess,” he said, ushering them forward.
He gestured to the eldest, who offered a solemn bow.
“This is Robert Wentworth. He is eleven.” He then turned to the twins. “And these are the twins, Marcus and Leah.”
They followed suit, their efforts at decorum undermined by giggles and the lopsidedness of Leah’s curtsy.
Celine blinked, offered her hand, then realized it was still encased in the mangled glove. She let it drop, opting for a regal nod instead.
The children stared at her, then Leah asked, “Are you a real duchess?”
“She’s the best sort,” Rhys replied, his eyes on Celine. “The sort who makes new rules instead of following old ones.”
Celine resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
Behind the children, Mrs. Lydia Wentworth emerged, looking unflappable despite her pale blue dress being smeared with what was clearly jam. Lord Julian Ashford followed, and Captain Harrow brought up the rear, booming with laughter and nearly deafening a footman as he ordered “a stout cup of tea and a side of ham, if you please.”
Mrs. Wentworth met Celine’s eyes and offered a smile. “Please forgive the unruly mob, Your Grace. The twins have wagered a year’s allowance on besting Rhys at wrestling, and young Robert is determined to witness the defeat firsthand.”
“A duchess is obliged to endure only half as much as a mother,” Celine managed, attempting to sound gracious.
“Oh, you’ll manage,” Mrs. Wentworth said. She leaned in and lowered her voice. “They only bite if you show fear.”
Celine laughed despite herself, and the knot of anxiety loosened a fraction. She let Rhys take her arm and lead her to the garden, where a table had been laden with pastries and lemon water.
The children trailed after, with Robert carrying a battered copy ofGulliver’s Travels, his nose already buried in it. Marcus and Leah began a game of chase around the rose bushes, while Mrs. Wentworth and Julian settled on a bench.
As Celine sat, she felt Rhys behind her, his voice deep when he murmured, “You’re surviving.”
“Barely,” she admitted, keeping her eyes on the twins as they clambered up a statue. “Are they always so… energetic?”
“Worse, sometimes. Robert once convinced the twins to paint my stables blue. Took a week to scrub it off, and three grooms threatened to give their notice. I nearly kept it as a reminder.”
“Robert still boasts about the incident,” Mrs. Wentworth piped up. “I am sure they will find a new adventure here during our stay.”
“Well, the manor is very large,” Celine said with a slight chuckle. “Lots of room for them to play.”
“Oh, yes!” Mrs. Wentworth grinned as she raised her glass to her lips. “I am excited to see it filled with children.” She looked from Celine to Rhys with a suggestive smile. “Three at least, I suspect.”
