The Duke I'm Going to Marry(50)

Lizbeth’s smile faltered and her eyes began to water. “I thought we’d been good this year. I don’t know why the nannies hate us.”

Dillie reached over and hurriedly gave her a hug. “It isn’t your fault. You’ve all been wonderful and I’m so glad you’re here. In truth, you three are my salvation. I’d be bored to tears without you.”

“We love you too,” Harry assured her, throwing his little arms about her waist and giving her a big hug emphasized by an effusive grunt. His hands were sticky, but what did it matter when she had his love?

Dillie hugged him back. “I have a game I know you’ll enjoy.”

The children squealed, their sadness quickly forgotten. “What is it?” Charles asked.

“It’s a musical game.”

Their ears perked.

“I’ll play the shoemaker’s song while you three walk around the piano. When I stop playing, you have to stop in place and stand as still as statues. Anyone who moves is out of the game. Then I’ll start playing again and the remaining players can start walking around the piano again.”

“And when you stop, we have to stop and pose as statues,” Lizbeth said, her eyes brimming with excitement.

Ah, children are so easily satisfied. Too bad men are not so easily handled.

She began to play the shoemaker song. It was a lively, skipping sort of tune. Lizbeth walked like a lady, nose in the air as she glided in front of the boys. Harry and Charles, being boys, were not required to take walking lessons. They hopped, jumped, skipped, and clop, clop, clopped around the piano, taking delight in the thuds they made upon the wood floor each time they landed. Harry, being quite little, did an admirable job of making noise. His little feet came down with the heft of a fat old man.

Dillie suddenly stopped playing. All three immediately stopped in their tracks, but as for posing as still as statues? It didn’t happen. They were fidgeting and giggling, but she wasn’t going to call them out. “Oh, you’re all too clever for me!”

She began to play again. Lizbeth resumed walking like a lady, her nose back in the air. The boys resumed hopping and clopping around the piano.

Once again she stopped playing. More laughter. More giggles and squirms.

They were so adorable, so intensely engaged in the game, that she couldn’t help but burst into ripples of laughter herself. The game continued, none of the children called out, and by now they were running and stomping around the piano as she played—until all of a sudden, they broke the circle and raced toward the door.

Dillie turned to call them back, but the words caught in her throat.

Ian was standing in the doorway. He looked devastatingly handsome as always, calm and composed even as the children slammed into him in their haste to welcome him and have him join in their game. Ivy’s nanny bustled in upon hearing the commotion, sparing Dillie the need to make excuses to the children as to why Ian could not join in.

The nanny clapped her hands to gain their attention. “Children, come along. It’s time for milk and biscuits.”

That halted any protest contemplated by the boys.

Lizbeth cast Dillie a shockingly mature grin, and then followed the boys out of the music room, leaving her alone with Ian. Dillie shook her head, laughing gently. “How long were you standing there?”

“Long time,” he said with a slight rasp to his voice. He shot her another one of his heart-melting smiles. If handsome were a crime, Ian would be imprisoned for life. “Harry left his handprints on your gown.”

She glanced down to inspect the outline of little fingers on each of her hips. “Oh dear, I hope it’s just chalk.”

When she looked up, Ian had an intensely scorching look in his eyes. Was he going to kiss her? He was staring at her lips. “What are you doing?”

“Studying you.” There was something in the way he spoke, a sensually husky whisper that stirred the butterflies in her stomach into their usual Ian-induced frenzy.

“I can see that. But why are you studying me?” And not kissing me with reckless abandon.

He bent his head closer, so that their lips were almost touching. “Can’t help myself. You’re beautiful.”

“I suppose you say that to all your conquests.” She couldn’t help but be disappointed. Honestly, he’d just spouted an uninspired, and rather stale, line of seduction. He must have told thousands of women that they were beautiful, and then kissed them.

“Yes, I’ve said it before. Lots of times,” he admitted. “There are plenty of women who are outwardly beautiful, but...” His voice trailed off and he suddenly seemed to be struggling for words. Ian never struggled over anything. “I was watching the gentle way you handled the children. The way you played with them. The way they giggled and hugged you. They adore you. You’re so honest, so patient with them. That’s what makes you so incredibly beautiful.”