Page 58 of The Wedding-Crashing Duchess

Ronan turned towards her. “I said I would. Didn’t I?”

“Yes, well...” Sarah blushed. “You are often busy, and so I assumed that you might not.”

“I am never busy for you,” he replied firmly.

Sarah smiled at that, and Augusta watched the tension leave the child’s shoulders. It was a step in the right direction.

Augusta knew that the two needed bonding moments like this. In time, the awkwardness they felt would disappear as well.

“You may choose the first story,” Augusta said, pushing the pile of books towards Sarah. “Although I should warn both of you that Cinderella has been read so often that I may refuse to perform it unless someone else agrees to take half the pages.”

Sarah immediately selected the worn volume. “Father can read it.”

Ronan looked at the book as though it had presented him with an unexpected administrative burden.

“Do you wish for me to? I have not read aloud in many years,” he said.

“You only need to say the words on the page,” Sarah replied. “Augusta misses some of them, although I tell her when she does.”

Augusta gave the child a wounded look, but then turned to Ronan and gave him an encouraging smile. As if she wished to say, " You can do it.”

Ronan took the book from Sarah. “I will try to meet the required standard,” he said, opening it to the first page.

He began reading in the same measured voice he used when discussing estate matters, and Augusta pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. The king, the servants, and Cinderella all sounded equally solemn.

Sarah listened for a page before interrupting. “Why do all the characters sound the same?” she protested.

Ronan looked towards Augusta for an answer. “Um, well... do you wish for me to.. use different voices?”

“I believe that is what she would like for you to do,” Augusta jumped in. “Though I admire the effort that you are putting in. I would never interfere with another person’s interpretation.”

“And so how do you want the characters to sound?” Ronan asked.

“Kind.” Sarah shrugged her shoulders. It was a simple direction.

“Very well,” he said. “I shall attempt kindness.”

His second effort was so exaggeratedly gentle that the characters sounded half asleep.

Sarah laughed again. “She does not sound like that either.”

“I suppose this is the extent of my abilities.” Ronan looked at Augusta. “You may take over.”

“Oh, but it’s too soon for me to take over now.” Augusta shook her head. “I think you’ve only begun to improve, and I’m sure that Sarah appreciates the effort that you are putting in.”

“Really, you are giving me too much credit,” Ronan let out a nervous laugh. “I have used up all the reserves I have.”

“Then use your imagination,” Augusta encouraged.

Ronan studied the next line and began again, although this time he added a dramatic pause before every instruction the fairy gave Cinderella. When he reached the transformation of the pumpkin, he lowered his voice and described the carriage as though the magic had produced something entirely suspicious.

Sarah giggled, and Ronan glanced at her before continuing.

By the time Cinderella reached the palace, he had begun altering the story slightly. The prince was described as a young man with poor judgement who had invited every unmarried lady in the kingdom without first considering the cost of supper, while the king became increasingly irritated by the number of shoes abandoned on the ballroom floor.

“That is not what the book says,” Augusta protested, even as she struggled not to laugh.

“The book has overlooked several practical matters,” Ronan replied, holding the page open with one hand. “Someone must pay for the musicians, the candles, and the damages caused by an entire kingdom attempting to dance at once.”