“And heleftyou?” Abel growled, his gaze darkening.
“Be careful,” she warned, noting the bulging tendons in his wrists as he grabbed onto the chair even harder. “You’re going to–”
Crack.
The top rail splintered in half.
Lillian’s eyebrows rose. “You know, we could use that strength for stage production. The sets are unbearably heavy and cumbersome. It takes forever to change out a scene. Particularly between act three and four. But if we had you waiting in the wings–”
“We brought your tea!” one of the twins–Anne?–announced as she skipped into the room.
“And some cinnamon scones,” chirped Amelia, carefully balancing a silver platter.
“Girls.” Abel turned, hiding the chair and its broken rail behind him. “What are you doing in here?”
“That lady asked us to get her something to eat,” said Anne.
Now it was the duke’s eyebrows that shot up. “And youlistened?”
“You sound surprised,” Lillian commented. “Over there on the dressing table, girls. Thank you very much. Have you been out to play in the snow yet?”
“It’s cold out there.”
“We’ll getwet.”
“Oh?” She drummed her fingers on her knee as she levelled a stare first at Anne, then at Amelia. They stared back, their greeneyes wide. “Will you melt?”
“Melt?” Anne giggled. “Why would we melt?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you test it out and see? Dress warm!” she called after them as they scurried out of the room, chattering on like a pair magpies. Her gaze returned to Abel. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“They did what you asked,” he said slowly. “Theyneverdo what anyone asks.”
She smiled, somewhat smugly. “Compared to a dozen temperamental actors, two darling little girls are hardly any trouble.”
Abel snorted. “Those darling little girls have chased off three governesses, five nursery maids, and, strangely enough, a footman. He left in tears. The only person they marginally obey beside myself is their nanny, and that’s only because they’ve known her since they were born.”
Casting aside the coverlet, Lillian climbed slowly out of bed and padded barefoot to the dressing table. Courtesy of the cheery fire in the hearth on the opposite side of the room, the floorboards were toasty warm under her feet. Courtesy of the handsome duke standing in the middle of the room, the air was downright steamy.
Pouring herself a cup of tea, she added in a single lump of sugar and gave it a half stir. She couldfeelAbel watching her, his hot, heavy gaze as intimate as a caress as it slid from her nape to her back to her bottom. Purposefully taking her time, she slathered sweet smelling strawberry jam onto two scones, plated them, and then returned to the bed.
“Here, sit and have breakfast with me,” she said, patting the space beside her.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I have a meeting–”
“And I have an entire production to prepare for, lines to rehearse, and a theater to save. But if there’s one thing in life Ihave learned, it’s that you should always make time for a good cinnamon scone. So sit,” she said, adopting the same stern tone she’d used on his daughters, “and tell me more about yourself.”
“Are you always this authoritative?” he grumbled as he sat.
“Are you always this reluctant to enjoy simple pleasures?” she countered.
Abel bit into his scone and glared at her. “What do you want to know?”
“How old are Anne and Amelia?”
The stern line between his brows noticeably softened. “Six, almost seven. Their birthday is in February. They’ve been begging for a puppy for months.”
“And are you going to get them one?”
