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“Daddy, Don’t Marry Her!” — Three Triplets Crashed the Duke’s Wedding, and He Recognized Them

“Daddy, Don’t Marry Her!” — Three Triplets Crashed the Duke’s Wedding, and He Recognized Them

Chapter 22

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"A noble project, Duke.""Evelyn."She smiled. He placed a paper on the table. "What is that?""A deed for the wash house."Her face closed. "Rowan, read before objecting.""I can object efficiently without reading.""I know. Please read."She did. The deed did not give her the wash house as a romantic gift: it established the building and an income for the sewing school under trustees. One trustee was Evelyn. One was Mrs. Bell, the opinionated neighbor from their old life, if Evelyn would invite her. One was Clarabel, if she accepted. Rowan was not trustee.Evelyn read the last line twice. "You are not in control of it.""No.""You funded it.""Yes.""Why?""Because if I own the room, your school remains dependent on my virtue. I prefer documents to my virtue; they are less moody."Her mouth trembled. "That sounded like Clarabel.""She reviewed it.""Of course she did."Evelyn turned away. He waited. At last, she said, "You are making it difficult to distrust you.""I hope so.""I did not say impossible.""I did not deserve impossible."She looked back. "No." Then she touched the deed. "Thank you."The words came quietly. They were not everything; they were a seam that held.Winter brought illness—not dramatic illness, but ordinary, miserable, sticky illness. Kit caught a cough first, then Milo, then Pippa, who considered illness an insult to scheduling.Evelyn slept badly for six nights. Rowan slept worse because he kept trying to help and being in the wrong place: on the second night, he knocked over a basin; on the third, he brought the wrong mixture; on the fourth, Pippa told him he folded cloths like a frightened lawyer.On the fifth, Evelyn snapped, "Sit down or leave!"He sat on the floor—not in a chair, on the floor, because all chairs were covered in cloths, cups, blankets, books, or one feverish child.Evelyn looked at him, exhausted. "That was not what I meant.""You said sit.""Do not become literal now!""I have no other skill left."She laughed; it came out cracked. Then she cried.He did not rise; he did not gather her up. He stayed where she had put him. "Tell me what to do."She wiped her face with her wrist. "Do not make me manage you, too."That struck. He understood. At last, he looked around the sickroom: Pippa needed cooling cloths, Milo needed his blanket shaken out, Kit needed someone to sit where he could see them when he woke. Evelyn needed the fire lowered, tea, and twenty minutes without being asked any question at all.
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“Daddy, Don’t Marry Her!” — Three Triplets Crashed the Duke’s Wedding, and He Recognized Them

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