Twelfth Night with the Earl (The Sutherland Sisters #3)(12)

An unexpected hollow sensation settled in Ethan’s chest as he opened the cupboard door. He had the strangest urge to run, before he could see Thea’s face, or she could see his . . .

But then her muffled voice came from inside the cupboard, and it was too late. “That took ages! I was beginning to think I’d have to spend the night in here.”

He didn’t say a word, but reached into the cupboard and held out his hand.

Her warm fingers wrapped around his as she climbed out. “Who’s found me?”

“I have.” His voice was hoarse. “I’ve found you.”

“Oh, Ethan!” She smiled up at him, the way she used to do when they were children, and all at once everything inside him wished he was still the boy he’d been then, before everything had fallen apart and he became the man he was now.

But then her smile faded, and she snatched her hand away. “That is . . . I meant to say, Lord Devon. Awake at last, are you? I do hope you slept well.”

Her tone snapped him back to himself. “I’ve been ringing the bell for an hour, Miss Sheridan. I hate to interrupt something as important as a game of hide and seek, but I’ll have my tea at once, if you please.”

She shrugged, but her green eyes narrowed. “Of course, my lord. If you’ll just come along to the kitchens with me, I’d be happy to find you something.”

“The kitchens!” She expected the earl to come to the kitchens? Good Lord. His servants in London were uppity, and even they served him in his bedchamber. “I’ll have my tea upstairs.”

“Very well.” She gave him a smile that sent a chill up his spine, then added, “I’m certain I’ll find time to bring it up . . . eventually.”

Devil take her. Ethan could see easily enough eventually meant never. He was too bloody hungry to argue with her, so he followed her to the kitchens, found a stool, and dragged it close to her work table.

“I’ll have you know, Miss Sheridan, one of those savage children you’ve installed in my house assaulted me in my bed this morning.”

“A child assaulted you?” She was preparing the tea, but she stopped to give him an incredulous look. “My goodness, how shocking. Perhaps we should have them taken up by Mr. Williamson. Tell me, which child committed this unspeakable crime?”

He squirmed a little at the look on her face. It did sound a bit ridiculous when she put it like that, but it was true enough. “Martha.”

Thea stared at him for a moment, then bit her lip to stifle a laugh. “Martha? You were assaulted by a tiny six-year-old girl? Oh, dear. That must have been . . . terrifying.”

Ethan scowled at her. “You may smirk all you like, Miss Sheridan, but that child is a menace. She dumped a pitcher of milk over me while I lay innocently in my bed!”

“Oh, come now. I’m sure it was an accident—”

“It was no bloody accident. I woke up to find her looming over my bed—”

“Looming? Martha? I find it rather difficult to believe she loomed over your bed, since she doesn’t even come as high as my hip.”

“I’m telling you she loomed over me, like a regular little black-eyed devil. She told me I was wicked, said she didn’t like me, ate all my jam, and then poured milk in my lap.”

Thea’s gaze swept over him from his head down to his toes, lingering on his lap before it skittered away.

Ethan stared at her, surprised at the sudden heat in her gaze, and at the swift and embarrassingly visible response it triggered in him.

He wanted her eyes on him. He always had.

A blush flooded her cheeks, and Ethan cleared his throat. “You’d do well to teach some manners to those three little satanic imps left in your charge, and while you’re at it, perhaps you should train the servants to come when they’re called. I nearly expired from cold and hunger.”

Her face darkened. “If you had expired, it would hardly be the servants’ fault, my lord. You were served tea, and you chose to toss it across the room.”

For God’s sake, was that what all the fuss was about? You’d think the servants here had never seen a broken teapot before. “I’m an earl. We do that.”

“Yes, well, now you have, Peter has refused to serve you. Becky, too.”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “Not a very brave lot, are they? It’s not as if I threw Peter out the window, for God’s sake. It was just a teapot, and it didn’t even hit him.”

“Were you trying to hit him?”

“No, but I wasn’t trying to miss him, either. What did he expect? He sneaked into my bedchamber and woke me up in the middle of the night.”

“I sent him up at 8:00 a.m., my lord. It was hardly the middle of the night.”

“Bloody close enough,” Ethan muttered. “Why the devil would you send him up at all? I warn you, Miss Sheridan. I won’t be dragged from my bed at first light every morning.”

Thea jabbed her hands onto her hips. “Well, I do beg your pardon, Lord Devon, for assuming you’d attend church today, along with the rest of England. It is Christmas Day, after all.”

Church? Good Lord. Why would he want to go there? “I don’t care if it’s the bloody end of the world. I don’t wish to be disturbed in my bedchamber. That is, not by footmen and fiendish children. I do, on occasion, welcome other visitors.”