A Duke of Her Own(24)

The moment he disappeared around the side of the building, Tobias called to the footman just inside the door. When he appeared, Tobias shouted, "Tell Mr. Seffle I took the horses around the block."

By the time the duke's coachman, Seffle, rushed around the side of the house, Tobias was already hidden in the coach. The horses hadn't even had time to realize that they were free to trot off. From inside the blanket box, Tobias could faintly hear Seffle swearing, followed by a shouting match between Seffle and the groom and the ensuing search for himself, but after a few minutes it all settled down and Seffle jumped on the coach to drive it around the block.

Tobias wasn't overly uncomfortable. He could sit with his arms clasped around his legs. They trundled around the final corner and pulled to a halt again. He heard the duke's drawling voice. "Are you saying that Ashmole asked my son to run errands for him?"

Tobias couldn't help grinning. He hadn't made up his mind about his father. Villiers was like some sort of weird exotic bird with nasty eyes and a strange way of talking. He wasn't friendly. Or warm.

But Tobias still thought about the way Villiers had knocked over Grindel, the man who forced him to root around in the mud to pick up things like human teeth. Grindel had hit the ground with an enormous crash. And now there was atone in Villiers's voice that said Ashmole was in danger of losing his job if he confused Tobias with a footman.

Villiers seemed to think he could make everyone forget that his son was a bastard. Which was idiotic, though Tobias appreciated the thought.

Finally the coach lurched to a start. Tobias planned to wait until they were on the outskirts of London before he announced his presence. But they couldn't have gone more than a block when the wooden roof over his head suddenly flew open.

He raised his head slowly, and met his father's eyes. He had learned long ago to stay silent in awkward situations, so he said nothing.

Unfortunately, it seemed his father adhered to the same lesson, and after an uncomfortable moment Tobias couldn't take it any longer. "Ashmole didn't ask me to do an errand for him. How did you know I was in here?"

The duke arched an eyebrow. "A blanket carried into the house followed by a missing boy hardly posed much of a conundrum. And there was the fire in the nursery as well."

Tobias climbed out of the blanket box, pushing the flap back down. Surely the duke would shout to the coachman, stop the carriage, and send him back in the care of the furious groom, who would likely give him a clip on the ear, if not worse.



But his father said nothing at all, simply turning his eyes to a small book he held in his hands.

After a while Tobias asked, "Aren't you going to send me back?"

The duke looked up. "I assume that you have some desire to accompany me."

Tobias opened his mouth, but Villiers raised a hand. "You needn't embellish. I gather that after a few years chasing through a muddy riverbed in danger of life and limb, you find the nursery tedious.

I suspect," he added, "that the addition of a six-year-old girl to that nursery has not improved matters."

"She was quite good this morning," Tobias said fairly.

"Ah, the fire. I do wish that you had told her that the embroidery samplers from the west wall were not for burning. Ashmole seems quite distressed by their demise. They were over one hundred years old."

"Probably moldy, then," Tobias pointed out. "I didn't specify the sort of fuss she should make. I would have told her not to burn Colin's book."

"She burned all the books in the nursery," Villiers remarked.

Tobias didn't believe in apologizing, as a matter of course. But somehow he found his mouth opening and something along those lines emerging.

Villiers merely shrugged. "We'll have to watch her on Guy Fawkes Night."

Tobias began to feel more comfortable. "Are we really going to Kent to meet your wife?"

"She's not my wife yet. I'll choose whichever of the two women seems likely to be the better mother to the lot of you."

"I don't need a mother," Tobias said.

"Violet does." His father turned a page. "And so do the twins. They are much younger than you."

"Boys or girls?" "Girls."

"Did you know that I was a boy?" "Yes."

"What was my mother like?" "Extremely pretty."

Tobias froze, hoping that he would continue. But Villiers turned another page.

"You're being an ass," Tobias said, dropping the words into the silence of the carriage with great precision.

At first his father didn't move. Then he looked up again. "Am I to gather you believe this is an unusual occurrence, or merely that I should be concerned by your assessment?"