Grace whipped off her hat and let her long blonde braid fall down her back as she charged forward. “It is also customary for a gentleman to treat his siblings with the love and care they deserve, Your Grace!”
Unable to control herself now that she had unleashed her demons, she thumped him in the center of his broad chest, a thrilling surge of victory rushing through her as he backed up a step. “Did you ever think they might like for you to embrace them in relief that you found them unharmed? Did you think to check on their poor little dog? Show your concern for him, for their sake? Did you ever think to help them down from the horse and praise them for watching over their animals rather than deserting them out of fear that you might be angry if they were late for tea?”
His disbelief and shock silenced him, granting her the satisfaction she sought and goading her onward. “No. Of course you did not, because you are a high and mighty duke who can’t be bothered to care about his own brother and sister.” She went to Pegasus, helped the children down, then handed Galileo to Sissy. “It was a pleasure meeting you both,” she told them. After vaulting up into the saddle, she glared down at the duke still standing with his mouth ajar. “It was not a pleasure meeting you, Your Grace.” She rounded the horse and headed toward home at a proud, steady trot meant to display that she never ran away from anything.
“Wait!” Wolfebourne’s bellow echoed across the land like thunder.
Grace snorted. The fool had found his tongue. She reined in Pegasus and deigned to spare him a look. “What?”
“Who the devilareyou?”
“I am Lady Grace Abarough, sister to the fifth Duke of Broadmere.” She pointed at him. “And do not dare scold Connor for telling you my name was Gray. He and I had an agreement, and he was doing his best to abide by it. At least your brother has a sense of honor. I can’t imagine where he learned it from, since you appear to have none.”
“A sense of honor?” Wolfebourne charged toward her, his long-legged stride rapidly closing the distance between them. “You speak of honor, and yet you lie and pretend to be something you are not?”
He had a point, but she wasn’t about to give it to him. “I speak of the honor of loyalty, love, and caring. Of chivalry and courage. Things Connor and Sissy know all about, but apparently your education sorely fell short when it came to such attributes.”
“I will be speaking to your brother, my lady.”
The duke’s face had gone quite red with his fury, but Grace had to admit he wore the color well. It made her decide that if he had been a better-hearted man, she would indeed describe him as handsome. “I had no doubt that you would, Your Grace. After all, you have no honor and appear to be the spiteful, petty sort incapable of handling his own arguments. A pity you are so weak that you can’t even deal directly with a woman—you have to strike back through another man!”
His ever-deepening shock made her laugh. She couldn’t help it.
With a sweeping salute of her cap, she tipped her head to him again. “Good day to you, Your Grace. Happy tattling to my brother!”
Chapter Three
Romulus “Wolfe” Craigston,the Duke of Wolfebourne, stared after the most infuriating…the most presumptuous… Damned if he could even come up with a suitable word to describe her. “Who the devil does that woman think she is?”
“She told you who she was,” Connor said, “and when I get old enough, I intend to marry her. She is beyond compare.”
Wolfe swung about but caught himself before stinging his little brother with an acerbic retort the child did not deserve. He pointed to the south, the direction of Wolfebourne Lodge. “Start walking. I am most displeased with the two of you—yet again. You could have been injured or kidnapped and no one would have been any the wiser. Where the bloody hell have you been, and how did you escape Miss Hannah this time?”
“Miss Hannah said we could play in the garden since we did our lessons so nice,” Sissy said.
“This is not the garden, Sissy.” He walked along beside them, leading his horse. “Connor?”
“What?” The lad trudged along, clutching his trembling pup to his chest.
Wolfe eyed his brother, taking in the boy’s stubbornness and bravado. His sister was much the same. The children were indeed a pair of unrepentant little terrors, but they had been through so much, abandoned by their mother, and tormented by terrible nannies and governesses. Wolfe was at his wits’ end withthe precious siblings his father had left in his care. He had sorely failed the cast-aside mites he had always adored.
But they had certainly taken to the scandalous Lady Grace, and she had taken to them, defending them as if they were her own. Maybe the woman wasn’t so infuriating after all. Wolfe allowed himself a sigh as heavy as his heart. “Mr. George can have a look at Hector’s leg and ensure he heals properly. What happened to him?”
Connor sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “A rabbit tricked him and he got him all tangled up in a snarl of woodbine. If Grace hadn’t come along and cut him free, I don’t know what we would have done.”
“LadyGrace,” Wolfe corrected him. “She should be addressed as such.”
“She told us we could call her Grace,” Sissy said, “and I told her she could call me Sissy.”
Wolfe deflated with a weary groan, too exhausted to argue. The fear that the children had come to some horrible end when they could not be found had raged through him and worn him down as if he were poorly forged metal against a grindstone. “I am sure she meant you could call her Grace in informal settings. If we happen to come upon her in the village or at gatherings, it is more respectful to address her asLadyGrace. It would make her more comfortable.”
With a thoughtful nod, Connor gave his sister one of the looks the twins often shared. Wolfe had decided long ago it was their own secret language. “We should make her comfortable, Sissy. After all, she is going to be my wife.” Connor turned back to Wolfe. “How long must I wait to marry?”
“You have many years before you should marry. Look at me. I am six and thirty, and I have yet to marry.” Wolfe tousled the boy’s ink-black hair that matched his own. Raven hair and sootyeyes marked all the Wolfebournes. “How many years until you are six and thirty?”
“Stop trying to trick me into doing sums,” Connor retorted.
“Nine and twenty,” Sissy supplied for him, always ready to help her twin.
