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The children dashed to their favorite seats: Valentine to a large chair by the fire with a towering stack of books nearby and Florence opposite, with a stack of foolscap, a half-written story of severed heads, and a lap desk that Dominic had given her a few days ago.

“A gentleman never sits when a lady is still on her feet,” Leonora barked. “Obviously, your comportment lessons haven’t been detailed enough.”

Val didn’t move.

“Master Valentine!”

He startled, looking up from his book. “What?”

“No gentleman sits in the presence of a lady.”

Valentine muttered something that sounded perilously like “Bollocks,” but he rose, book in hand.

Thankfully, the door opened behind Torie’s back, and she turned toward it, smiling valiantly. She didn’t care who it was—Flitwick, Mrs. Flitwick, Nanny, the cook, a nursemaid, anyone—because Leonora was winding up like a top. One more vulgar word and she would spin out of control.

Well, anyone . . .

Except perhaps the viscount.

Chapter 8

Dominic walked into the nursery and instantly realized that he had strayed onto a battlefield. His fiancée’s cheeks were flushed and her eyes wrathful, which wasn’t particularly surprising if she’d been in the twins’ presence for long.

Torie took severed heads in stride, but Leonora?

Unlikely.

“Good afternoon, Miss Sutton, Miss Victoria,” Dominic said, bowing. “Children.”

Torie dropped into a curtsy. The twins chorused, “Good afternoon, Lord Kelbourne,” followed by a creditable bow and curtsy.

Leonora bobbed and then folded her arms over her bosom. “Kelbourne, your wards have offended me in more ways than I can enumerate. I am sadly convinced of my original judgment. They can never—”

Before Dominic could speak, Torie intervened. “No. Whatever observation you are about to make should be expressed in private.”

“We don’t mind,” Valentine offered. “We have both concluded that Miss Sutton doesn’t like us.” Without a trace of embarrassment, he added, “I fear the feeling is mutual.”

Bloody hell. One should celebrate honesty in children, but the twins were honest to a fault.

“How dare you!” Leonora retorted. “You are a vulgar, impudent little boy, and you will never be accepted in polite society!”

“I could say the same to you, but I gather you have managed to disguise your nature,” Val remarked dispassionately, “which suggests I could do the same.”

Leonora’s cheeks turned from pink to purple as she drew in a harsh breath.

“We could try to like you, Miss Sutton, if you choose new wallpaper,” Florence said quickly.

Dominic tried to make sense of that, but quickly discarded it.

“I cannot introduce these children to the ton,” Leonora said shrilly. “They mentioned flatulence, and something I suspect refers to fornication. She . . . the girl spoke of bastardy when . . . You cannot expect it of me or any lady, Kelbourne! The task you envision is impossible. They have no grace, politeness, gentility, nothing that becomes their supposed rank.”

Dominic turned to the twins. “I am disappointed. We’ve spoken about appropriate topics for conversation. What happened to the list?”

“In fact, they were exhibiting their newfound knowledge,” Torie said wryly. “My sister’s injured sensibilities stem from a misunderstanding.”

The children surveyed him with clear eyes. “Florence assured Miss Sutton that we realize some topics of conversation should not be aired among ladies,” Valentine explained. “We did not broach those topics. Florence listed three only after the lady expressed interest.”

“Four,” Florence corrected him. “I can whisper them in your ear, if you wish, Lord Kelbourne.” She trotted over and came up on her toes, whispering audibly, “Flatulence, rogering, bastardy, loins. Three nouns and one verb.”