Page 33 of The Duke of Ruin
Simon barked with laughter. He couldn’t help himself. It was the most he’d ever seen Diana let down her guard. “Is that what you called them?”
She sat back and picked up her tea. “Among other things.” She arched a brow before she took a sip, and though the cup blocked her mouth, he suspected she was smiling.
“I like this side of you.” And upstairs she’d said she wanted to have a snowball fight. This was a Diana he hadn’t seen, a Diana he doubtedanyonehad seen. He felt privileged to spend time with her.
“Now, about this snowball fight,” Simon began.
Mrs. Woodlawn interrupted them with the arrival of their breakfast. “Did I hear you say snowball fight? The Taft boys will be thrilled. They’ve been discussing having one all morning.”
Simon tensed, and the despondent feeling he’d battled all last night during dinner while the Taft family taunted him from the center of the room came rushing back over him. It was impossible to look at them, especially the young girl, without thinking of Miriam and their child. He’d no idea what she was carrying, of course, but he’d been confident the baby was a girl. With shining honey curls and pale gray eyes like her mother.
They aren’t your children.
No, but they could be. He wanted them to be. Notthem, of course, but he wanted children. He’d wanted Miriam’s children. His heart ached, and his throat burned for a quick moment.
He coughed lightly as he got a handle on his emotions. “Then we’ll have to make sure they get one.” He smiled up at Mrs. Woodlawn, who grinned in response.
After she was gone, Diana’s brows pitched low over her eyes. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Do what?” He sliced into the tender ham.
“You also don’t have to be obtuse,” she said lightly. “It won’t bother you to spend time with the children?”
It might. But he was determined to rise to the challenge—and emerge victorious. “It will be good for me. I think,” he added quietly before shoving a too-large bite of ham into his mouth.
When they were nearly done with breakfast, Mrs. Woodlawn returned with a blanket. “This is for you to wear outside while you watch the snowball fight.”
“Oh, I’m not watching,” Diana said with a fair amount of grit. “I’m participating.”
Mrs. Woodlawn’s eyes widened. “I see. Well, then I know who I’m cheering for.” She winked at Diana as she folded the blanket over the back of Diana’s chair.
Diana sat forward until the wool was situated, then thanked Mrs. Woodlawn for her thoughtfulness.
A moment later, the younger Taft boy came over to their table. He had dark brown eyes and sandy-colored hair—the kind that had probably been nearly white when he was born but darkened over time. Simon’s had been that way. “I’m Matthias. Mrs. Woodlawn says you’re going to throw snowballs with us. Is that true?”
“It is. Have you ever made a snowball?” Simon asked.
The boy shook his head. “Is it hard?”
“It depends on the snow. We’ll have to see what it’s like.”
“Let’s go now.” Matthias reached for his hand, which Simon had rested on the edge of the table. His inclination was to withdraw, but he steeled himself for the boy’s touch.
Simon’s gaze flicked toward Diana. She was watching him with the hint of a smile lighting her eyes.
“I suppose I’ve had enough breakfast,” Simon said.
“Matthias!” Mr. Taft came to the table and took the boy’s other hand, prompting Matthias to let Simon’s hand go. The father looked at Simon apologetically. “He’s yet to learn all his manners.”
“I think his manners are just fine,” Simon said. He looked over at Diana. “We were just about to go outside for a snowball fight.” She nodded slightly, encouraging him. He returned his attention to Mr. Taft. “I know Matthias is keen to join us. I hope you will too. And your other boy.” Simon stared past the man at the older boy, who was now finishing the rest of the food on his brother’s plate.
“They’d like that,” Taft said. “I’ll just fetch Jonathan.”
Diana put on her hat, then rose, picking up her gloves, which she donned. Simon did the same after getting to his feet. “Come, Matthias. I’m Mr. Byrd, and this is my wife, Mrs. Byrd.”
“I like birds,” Matthias said. “There’s a harrier nest in a tree near our house. I like to watch them hunt.”
“I’m sure that’s quite exciting.” Simon moved to help Diana with her cloak and then arrange the blanket over her shoulders. Not that she needed his assistance. He realized he was simply looking for a reason to touch her—or almost touch her, as it were.
