Twelfth Night with the Earl (The Sutherland Sisters #3)(40)

Henry, George, and Ethan stood silently, their mouths open, blinking at her.

Martha stared back at them with wide eyes, then she sucked in a hiccupping breath, and burst into tears.

“That were a good story,” Henry said, heedless of his sister’s distress. “’Specially the part about the fingernails and the skin falling off.”

“And the bones, too. I like stories ’bout bones. But ye know, Henry, Martha’s right. His lordship did say ’e was going to shut down the house.” He gave Ethan a considering look. “Dinnit ye?”

All three children turned questioning black eyes on him.

“I did say that, when I first arrived, but that was before . . . that is, since then I’ve changed my mind. I don’t intend to close down the house, after all.”

The children were quiet for a moment as they considered that, then George spoke up. “’An ye’re going to live ’ere, with Miss Sheridan? Or are ye going back to London?”

Ethan’s brows drew into a frown as he fumbled for a reply. “I’m going to stay here at Cleves Court, with Miss Sheridan.”

“But . . .” Henry frowned. “Ye can’t stay ’ere with Miss Sheridan alone in the house. That’s not proper-like, is it, George?”

“Well, it’s a big house, innit?” George gave Ethan an uncertain look. “But I don’t think it’s proper, not unless ’is lordship marries Miss Sheridan. Ye’re going to marry ’er, aren’t ye?”

For God’s sake. It was a bloody inquisition. Next he’d be asking George and Henry for their permission to marry Thea. He opened his mouth to reassure them, but before he could say a word, Henry interrupted him.

“’Course ’e is. He loves ’er, don’t he?”

“Sure, ’e does.” George spoke with utter confidence. “He’s loved her since ’e knocked ’er from the tree. Maybe before then.”

Ethan stared at them. Devil take it. How did children always know everything?

“Don’t know why ye’d want to get married, yer lordship.” Henry gave him a curious look, then shrugged. “Peter says women are nothing but fuss an’ bother, but then Miss Sheridan’s a good sort, innit she? If ye have to marry, ye may as well marry Miss Sheridan.”

“I may as well, yes.” A reluctant smile twitched at Ethan’s lips as he looked at them. They were dreadful children, of course—three little fiends, especially Martha—but he couldn’t deny they loved Thea just as much as he did.

“Hurrah!” Henry, overcome with sudden glee, leapt upon his brother’s back for a celebratory wrestle. “His lordship’s staying, ’an we get to shoot the pistol again!”

“That’s bloody good news, that is!” George threw Henry to the ground with a mighty heave, and jumped on top of him. “I told ye Miss Sheridan would bring ’is lordship ’round.”

Ethan was trying to reassure Martha, who’d begun wailing in earnest over his impending betrothal to her beloved Miss Sheridan, but he stilled at George’s words. “Bring me around? What do you mean, George?”

George was bouncing up and down on Henry’s back, but he looked up at Ethan with a grin. “She said she’d make ye see reason, no matter what, and I guess she did, ’cause now we get to have you an’ Miss Sheridan, and that’s capital, that is.”

“Capital!” Henry shook off George, who’d been smashing his face into the ground, and added, “Miss Sheridan said she’d never let ye close the house—she said she’d do whatever it took to keep ye from doing it, and she’s right stubborn, innit she, once she sets her mind to a thing.”

Whatever it took.

And if it took pretending a love she didn’t feel?

No. Not that. Thea would never do such a hurtful thing. She’d never use him that way . . .

But the doubts that lurked in the dark corners of his mind had been awakened, and now they began to circle, ready to sink their claws into him.

She loved this house.

Cleves Court was a part of her—it always had been, and one couldn’t tear loose a piece of themselves, could they? Especially not for a man like him, a man who’d left her behind because he was so tormented by shame and guilt over his brother’s death he couldn’t look her in the eyes anymore.

God, he was such a fool—such a damn fool to think his fight with his past could ever have a happy ending.

The boys continued to tumble about on the frozen ground, but Ethan didn’t see them. He watched blindly as Martha ran off in the direction of the house, but he didn’t call her back, or follow her. He stood there with the icy wind blowing down the neck of his greatcoat, and tried to remember another time in his life when he’d felt quite so cold.

How far would Thea go to keep Cleves Court open?

He already knew the answer.

As far as she had to.



“Ethan? The children were asking for you at dinner, but you never came.”

He hadn’t responded to the light knock, but Thea entered anyway, and now she stood in the doorway of his study, her anxious gaze moving between his face and the glass of whiskey in his hand.

He hadn’t gone to dinner because he wasn’t hungry. Despite the whiskey, he wasn’t thirsty, either, and he wasn’t angry, or sad, or even hurt.