Page 15 of If the Duke Demands

“Any last words ’fore ye join Davy Jones in ’is locker, ye scurvy dog?” She circled the wooden sword toward Mr. Grundy. He’d had the happy misfortune this afternoon of taking his lunch at the same time as the children and so had gotten caught up in their play, although the unabashed grin on the older man’s face told her he enjoyed the fun as much as she did.

“To be or not to be,” he recited, his hand held dramatically over his heart, “that is the question.”

“And none of that soliloquy-in’,” she warned. “You lousy Dane!”

“Plank! Plank!” the children sent up a chant.

Miranda laughed, nearly doubling over and losing all hope at playing a convincing pirate captain now. Oh, how she loved these children!

Since Josephine Carlisle married her marquess and left for London, Miranda had taken responsibility for managing the Good Hope Home. In the three years since she’d been caring for the home and its two dozen orphans, she’d grown to love it more than she’d ever thought possible. The responsibility challenged her, the orphans adored her, and her life finally had a sense of purpose beyond caring for her auntie and uncle.

The best part, though, were the children—always so energetic, so full of life and hope. Being around them made her feel good about herself and the possibilities in the world.

Even now as they flocked around her as their pirate captain and forced poor Mr. Grundy to walk the plank, she had a precious glimpse of what it must have been like to grow up with brothers and sisters. Oh, Rebecca and Hamish had been very good to her, loving her and raising her as if she were their own, but they were childless. They didn’t always understand her and the boundless energy that sometimes swelled inside her until she thought she would burst if it didn’t get out. Andthatusually caused more trouble for her than she wanted to admit, as most of the villagers and farmers could attest.

What must it have been like to be part of a large family, one full of noise and confusion and all the wonderful pandemonium of a well-lived household? That was why she was drawn to the Carlisles, she supposed. Chestnut Hill had always been so happy and energetic, so full of loving disorder, and there was always some scheme of one kind or another that Josie and her three brothers had planned in which she could join. Certainly, her home with Auntie and Uncle was very nice, but it was always too silent, too still. Too serious for comfort.

The joy of organized chaos—she laughed as the children forced Mr. Grundy to jump from the plank onto the pretend ocean of grass. Well, she’d certainly found it!

“And so they go to it,” she announced with a dramatic flourish of her wooden sword. “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead!”

As the children sent up a loud cheer, and even a supposedly drowned Mr. Grundy joined in with the hurrahs, she made a daring leap off the makeshift ship.

Her sword caught the edge of a billowing sheet. It tangled in the material and jerked her off balance. She tumbled into the sheet and fell to the ground, rolled across the grass as the sheet wrapped around her, and landed directly at the toes of a pair of highly polished boots.

Lying on her back, she raised her eyes slowly with embarrassment, squinted against the bright sun, and met the scowling gaze of…Sebastian Carlisle.

Oh no.

Suddenly shouts and panic broke through the group of children. Instead of helping her up, they scattered into the rows of sheets, through the garden, and away. All of them fled like rats on a sinking ship, along with Mr. Grundy, who gave her a polite doff of his cap before disappearing around the side of the building.

Cowards.Miranda groaned, wrapped up like a pirate mummy, now completely defenseless. Withhimof all people. Oh, the humiliation of it! She’d much rather have walked the plank herself.

The concerned frown darkening his face deepened as he leaned over and offered her his hand. “Are you all right?”

She sighed and tossed away her wooden sword before she decided to use it on him. “I’m fine.”

With no other choice unless she wanted to flop on the ground like a fish to free herself from the sheet, she took his hand, and he helped her to her feet. His reproving expression as he reached up to remove her pirate hat told her as clearly as if he’d shouted it from the village green that the duke didn’t approve of their roughhousing.

Well, so what if he didn’t? The children were hers to oversee, and they deserved time to play and to simply behave like children. The adult world would grind away their enthusiasm and innocence soon enough. The way it had apparently done to him.

“What were you doing out here?” He darted a questioning glance at the ship’s deck that the children had fashioned roughly from old boards, small barrels, and boxes. “Why weren’t the children at their studies?”

“Theywereat their studies.” She yanked her hat away from him. If he thought she’d let him cow her simply because he saw her in that flimsy dress last night, he had another think coming. Although, she considered with an inward grimace, he’d seen a lot more of her than thatoutof that dress. Still, she would not be intimidated by him. Lord Panther or not. “They’re studying Shakespeare.”

He blinked as if he hadn’t heard her correctly and glanced down at the skull and crossbones she’d sewn onto her hat. “Shakespeare?”

“They’re acting out the pirate scene fromHamlet.”

His brow lifted patronizingly. “There is no pirate scene inHamlet.”

“Well, there should have been,” she countered and bent down to pick up her sword. It was all she could do not to let out an irritatedhumphof annoyance. “Shakespeare mentions pirates in act five but never shows them, so the children wrote their own pirate scene.”

“I see.” His lips twitched, although she couldn’t have said whether from irritation or amusement. “So you’re teaching them to rewrite Shakespeare.” He paused, barely a heartbeat, but there was a world of disapproval in that beat of silence. “I’d hate to see what you’d do with Milton.”

Miranda bit back the urge to tell him that the children had been working hard all morning and needed a break from being cooped up indoors. That she’d spent all morning herself in the dusty, cramped, dark basement while the children had been diligently doing their maths. That he of all people should understand how draining it was to do nothing but toil, given all his responsibilities and how he spent nearly all of his time with his nose buried in the account books and in lists of everything that needed to be done for the estate and Parliament.

But after the embarrassment of last night, she wasn’t certain that she needed to justify any of her behavior. Certainly not tohim. Lord Panther, indeed.