The duke looked at Bonnie and said, “I was just asking Miss Prim if she thought—”
A loud clatter sounded behind Louisa, startling her. She turned to see Sybil standing by a table, wide-eyed with fear, clasping her hands together under her chin.
“What happened?” Louisa asked.
“I didn’t mean to drop it,” Sybil said. “I promise I didn’t mean to.”
Louisa’s heart jumped to her throat and she rushed over to where Sybil stood. Louisa looked on the floor for whatever her sister had dropped but didn’t see anything.
“Sybil, what did you touch?” she asked.
“Did it break?” Sybil asked, her bottom lip trembling as big tears quickly welled up in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to, Sister,” she said again, flinging her arms around Louisa’s waist. Sybil buried her face against Louisa’s chest and started crying loudly.
The duke frowned as he walked up to them. “What’s wrong with her?” he asked. “Why is she crying?”
“She’s frightened.”
“What about?”
“She didn’t keep her hands to herself and she broke something but I’m not sure what.”
He looked around the floor. “No. Look, it’s not broken.” He reached down and picked up a brass handle that looked to be about a foot long. “See, there’s no need to be crying like that.”
“But she’s upset,” Louisa explained, rubbing Sybil’s back while she boo-hooed louder. “She knows she shouldn’t have touched whatever it is and she’s in trouble for doing so.”
The creases in the duke’s forehead deepened. “Why would she be in trouble when it’s not broken? And I don’t understand her crying when she’s not in trouble.”
Louisa wasn’t sure she understood the duke either. “Perhaps that is because it is you who doesn’t understand young girls, Your Grace.”
“That is a given, Miss Prim, because, good Lord, this is nothing to cry about.”
Louisa gasped. “Did you just swear in front of the girls?”
“What?” The duke looked incredulously at her. “What? No. I mean saying ‘good Lord’ is not swearing.”
Louisa placed her hands over the ears of the sniffling Sybil, and Gwen put her hands over Bonnie’s ears. “You said it again.”
“I did not, I mean—” He stopped and gave Louisa a deep, penetrating stare that let her know in no uncertain terms he thought she was being unquestionably harsh about her stance.
Her back stiffened.
He relented and said testily, “Then pardon me for my language, ladies.”
Louisa was sure that was not what the duke first intended to say. “I think we should wait out in the carriage for Mrs. Colthrust to finish,” Louisa said.
The duke touched her upper arm. “Wait.”
Louisa looked down at his hand on her arm. His grip was warm, firm, and gentle, and yet strangely possessive. His expression had softened a little, but she still couldn’t believe he’d actually touched her.
He removed his hand and said, “Do you mind staying a little longer? I want to show the girls something.”
She hesitated.
“Something appropriate,” he added.
She didn’t know if she could trust him until the corner of his mouth twitched with a smile. She felt herself weakening and she knew that couldn’t be a good sign.
“I’ll watch what I say.”
