Servants poured out of the manor, if a castle could be considered something as simple as a house. The place was as old as the hills. For all the years Rebecca had known Gabby, she’d never once been invited to Ryleigh Hall which was surprising since Exford was not all that great a distance away. The carriage came to a stop and shook with the removal of the steps. The duke went out first. Rebecca followed so she could assist the boys, though they jumped to the ground, avoiding the steps all together. Duke was feeling much better, proven by his leap out without so much as a whimper.
Ryleigh handed down Serena. While the man seemed to have no trouble snapping Rebecca’s head off, he treated Serena with an undue respect that tugged at Rebecca. About the time she was ready to remind herself how horrible he was, he did something to shatter her defenses—er, illusions.
Ryleigh ushered them inside a great hall with dark polished floors. Beeswax filled the air with a pleasant scent. Their footsteps echoed against the wooden floors.
A door to her right flew back. Testament to their fear, the twins hovered behind her.
A tall man who looked remarkably similar to Ryleigh rushed out, his expression frantic.
“Sebastian, thank God you’re home.”
“Thomas? Whatever are you doing here? Never mind. May I present Lady Rebecca Thatcher and her children? Lady Rebecca, my cousin, Thomas Lynnwood.”
“Children?” he said.
Rebecca moved aside but the boys moved with her skirts. She let out a frustrated huff and plowed ahead, inclining her head. “Mr. Lynnwood. I believe I have a bone to pick with you, sir.”
Mr. Lynnwood stared at her, shocked, but rather than replying to her accusation, he turned back to Ryleigh. “You received my note?”
“Note? What note?” The duke was scowling. No doubt over his cousin’s direct cut. One could call the duke many things. Priggish, imperious, high-handed. Everything in a duke’s arsenal to further his pomposity and grandeur. Not adhering to customary traditions? Certainly not.
“The one regarding the twins, I suspect,” Rebecca said, her eyes raking over Mr. Lynnwood, silently blasting him for his nefarious actions toward Owen. Staunchly aware of Ryleigh’s eyes on her, she ignored him, focusing on his cousin.
Mr. Lynnwood turned to her slowly, outraged. “And why should my children run away, my lady? They have a good home in Dorchester. I’ve been beside myself waiting on Ryleigh’s return.”
Ryleigh stirred, and Rebecca hid her wince. She’d forgotten he hadn’t an inkling that the boys were not her own children. “Rebecca.” Just that one word. Her name in a growl she envisioned a wolf would sound if he were able to speak. His lips barely moved.
First things first, however. “One moment, Your Grace.”
“I think not,” the duke said. He looked at his cousin. “Are you saying the twins are missing, Thomas?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. I’ve been frantic.”
Ryleigh stepped behind Rebecca and in the next instant had each twin by his collar. “Would these miscreants happen to belong to you?”
“Hello, Papa,” Oliver said.
His shock filled the hall. After a speechless second, he sucked in a rasped breath. “Dear heavens. You found them. Where did you find them?”
His obvious relief stumped Rebecca, until she recalled that moment in St. James Park when Oliver dashed from the trees. “London, Mr. Lynnwood.”
“London.” He truly was surprised.
Ryleigh’s arms crossed his chest. He speared her with a glare. “Do tell, Lady Rebecca.”
“They are a little mischievous, but they are not ill-treated,” Mr. Lynnwood defended.
“Except for their maddening pranks, perhaps?” Ryleigh muttered under his breath.
Rebecca shot Ryleigh a quelling glare and turned back to Mr. Lynnwood.
“Don’t give me that, Sebastian.” Lynwood’s hand slashed the air. “We raised our share of mischief. Surely you recall the time we hollowed out a few apples and put beetles in them and placed them on the tray for our mothers’ tea with the queen?”
Ryleigh winced.
“What happened?” Oliver breathed.
“The apples rocked back and forth and some of the ladies believed them possessed,” Ryleigh murmured.
