Page 37 of The Duke of Ruin
The charged moment broke when Mrs. Woodlawn called from the doorway. “I’ve hot tea and coffee for everyone! And cakes, of course!”
“Come, boys, time to go inside.”
When they didn’t immediately come, Mrs. Taft added, “There arecakes.”
This drew their attention, and they ran toward the inn.
Simon escorted Diana inside where Mrs. Woodlawn was addressing the group. “I’ve set up two areas with hot water to get everyone out of their wet clothes and cleaned up as quickly as possible. I’ve gathered new clothes from your rooms—the women can go into the kitchen, and the men can stay out here.”
Mrs. Woodlawn had pushed two tables together, and on them sat several bowls of steaming water, toweling, and some blankets—and clothes were piled on several chairs. He noticed a table with breakfast dishes, but it wasn’t where any of them had sat. He wondered if the mystery guests who hadn’t come to dinner had eaten breakfast while they’d been outside. They must prefer to keep to themselves.
“Come, ladies,” Mrs. Woodlawn said, turning toward the kitchen.
Diana gave him a charming smile before disappearing toward the back of the inn with Mrs. Taft, Mary, and Mrs. Woodlawn.
Simon watched her go, feeling more content than he had in ages.
“You and your wife seem very much in love,” Mrs. Haskins said approvingly. “I hope my daughter can make such a fine match one day.”
He pushed a smile onto his face. “Thank you.” Too bad it was all a lie.
Chapter 8
Dinner was a lively affair, with all the tables pushed together and the guests sharing the meal as if they’d planned to be snowed in together. Afterward, they played cards—which Diana fumbled through with Simon’s guidance—while Miss Haskins read to the children by the fire. When Mrs. Taft left to put Mary to bed, Mrs. Woodlawn appeared in the common room with a large, shallow bowl.
“Time for Snapdragon!” she announced, clapping her hands together.
The boys cried with glee, and Diana couldn’t help but smile. Snapdragon could be terribly fun—so long as her parents weren’t around. And luckily for her, they were not.
Mr. Woodlawn hurried to move one of the smaller tables away from the others, and Mrs. Woodlawn set the bowl in the center. She looked down at the boys, who stood on either side of her. “You’ve played Snapdragon, then?”
They nodded. “You’re going to light the brandy on fire, and then we must grab as many raisins as we can and eat them,” Jonathan said eagerly.
“That’s right,” Mrs. Woodlawn said with a smile. “However, we’re not going to eat them in this version. I don’t want anyone burning their mouths. Here comes Mr. Woodlawn now to set the brandy alight.” She looked about the room. “Who else is joining us?”
“Me,” Mr. Pickford the younger said, moving toward the table.
His older brother followed. “I will too.” He looked back toward Miss Haskins, who’d risen from her chair by the fire.
She blushed prettily, and Diana wondered if a match was in the making. “I’ll play too,” she said, joining them at the table.
“Anyone else?” Mrs. Woodlawn asked. “Or is this just for the unmarried folks?”
Diana nearly raised her hand to say she wasn’t married, but quickly bit her tongue. Simon seemed to catch on to her near mistake and chuckled softly. “Do you want to play?”
“I think I do,” she whispered.
“Then by all means, do. Be careful—don’t burn yourself.”
She stared into his deep brown eyes, the golden flecks near the center glowing like the bowl of brandy soon would. “You aren’t coming?”
He shook his head. “I’ll watch.”
Diana stepped toward the table, “I’ll play.”
The six of them stood around the table, the anticipation palpable as Mr. Woodlawn lit a spill from the hearth and brought it to the bowl. “Only one hand allowed—unless you’re under the age of twelve.” He winked at the Taft boys. “Ready?”
“Yes!” the young boys cried in unison.
