Free Charming the Duke by Holly Bush

primers of course,” Frances said. “And we simply must purchase the new registry.”
    What did Frances Sheldon need with an updated list of titled personage? She could quote family histories of nearly every duke and earl verbatim. Before Matilda could ask, Frances swept her husband’s arm into hers and pulled him to the door.
    “The registry I used to tutor the girls is long out-dated. And, of course, I will need primers to teach the orphans how to read the registry,” Frances said.
    “New primers you may need mother but a new registry will hardly be necessary for the children,” Matilda said as she followed her parents into the hallway.
    “Of course I need a new registry.” Frances pulled her husband along. “The one I have says the Duke of Bancroft is Harold Raymond. Everyone knows Harold is dead.”
    “No,” Francis Sheldon said in shock. “Arthur’s been Duke for years.”
    Matilda followed her parents towards the entrance of Maplewood. Her mother had already called for the carriage. They turned, kissed Matilda, and swept out the door arm in arm. Her father called over his shoulder.
    “Going to the booksellers, Matilda,” he said. “May miss tea.”

 
     
    Chapter Seven
     
     
    T hornsby sat behind his desk busy not paying attention to the papers he shuffled. Athena was married. Married! On their honeymoon! He growled thinking about the fact that Andrew and Athena had left him. Thornsby raised his head to a knock at the door.
    “Come in!”
    Withrow appeared. “Your Grace? Lady Athena, pardon, sir, Mrs. Smithly left me instructions for you to meet your charges. As they are recently bathed, I believe this is the most fortuitous opportunity for you.”
    “Charges?” Thornsby asked.
    “Your charges.” Withrow withdrew and returned with a hand on the shoulder of two children. “Jonah and Alice Gilbert.”
    Thornsby’s heart sank. The Gilbert children were now, in fact, his responsibility courtesy his sister Athena’s interference. He looked up at Withrow. “Have we managed to contact any relatives?”
    “There are no relatives,” Withrow said.
    “None at all?” Thornsby asked.
    “Martha Gilbert was an only child. As you know her parents are long dead,” Withrow replied.
    “The father’s family, perhaps?” Thornsby plied.
    Withrow escorted the children into the hall. He stared mutely at his employer when he returned.
    “What?” Thornsby asked.
    “The father was a gadabout. One of the staff believes he may have been from Dublin, but no one really knows,” Withrow replied.
    “And you did not wish to discuss this in front of the Gilbert children?” Thornsby asked.
    Withrow pursed his lips and shook his head.
    “You have more to say, I’m sure of it,” Thornsby said. “Out with it.”
    “Not my place to judge, Your Grace.”
    Thornsby looked at Withrow. The man had been with his family since before he was born. Athena often remarked that Withrow had appointed himself as the moral guardian of the Wilcox family when the late Duke and Duchess passed.
    “It is quite apparent from the sour look on your face you have already passed judgment. What have I done now?” Thornsby asked.
    “Seeing that the Gilbert children recently lost their mother and they undoubtedly don’t remember their father, I don’t believe it is necessary to remind them of their solitude. They are quite alone in the world and grieving.” Withrow drew himself up to his full six feet. “And have questions Mrs. Plumsbly and I are unable to answer.”
    “What kind of questions, Withrow?”
    “The kind that only a guardian can answer, Your Grace.”
          Withrow had managed to deliver a stern lecture without raising his voice. And it was, indeed, a set down. He’d been off worrying about his inheritance and wandering about town without the least thought for the two children standing outside of his door even though they, through no action of his own, were his responsibility.
    “Bring them in,