Page 10 of The Mistletoe Duke

She deserved to have children.

His frustration mounted as he ran through the prospects. Surely there was someone.

And then it hit him.

Manning.

Richard Manning was tall, strong, and virile. Some would call him handsome, Jonathan supposed. He was well bred, wealthy, charming, and intelligent. He wasn’t a gambler and he didn’t drink overmuch. And he had mentioned to Jonathan that he was thinking of taking a wife.

He would be perfect for Meg.

So why, when he scratched that name onto the parchment, did his stomach sink? Why did Meg’s piquant smile flash before his eyes?

He thrust these thoughts away and focused, and then added Aiden St. Clare, who was also handsome and clever, although not as wealthy. Meg wouldn’t mind that, would she? No. She’d never been overly concerned with luxury. And St. Clare could keep her in comfort.

And then, there was Richard Hisdick. Hisdick was something of an intellectual—at least in his own mind. He wasn’t as good looking as Manning or St. Clare—he had an odd-shaped head, wiry hair, and had a tendency to lean a little to the left, but he was a pleasant enough chap when he wasn’t spouting off about one thing or another in a one-eyed pedantic rant. Jonathan quite enjoyed jousting with him and it was possible Meg might as well. She did have blue-stocking sensibilities after all.

Once he had those three, other like fellows came to mind and he added them to the list. When he had seven, he determined his work was done, and a wash of relief rushed through him. He hadn’t expected finding a mate for Meg would be such a chore.

But he was happy to do it. He was. He owed it to her. And to her brother George, who had been his friend.

He had no idea why the task had made him slightly ill.

Probably because of her reaction. When he’d told her of his mother’s plans, she’d been downright horrified. Her face had gone pallid, she’d turned round with barely a word and plodded to her room. Could it be that Meg had accepted spinsterhood? That she was happy being alone? That thought made him slightly ill as well. He couldn’t countenance it. Not someone like her, so full of life and joy. She deserved love. Deserved to be cossetted and cared for. She deserved to have someone.

It was just the someones he had in mind that irked him.

He had no idea why.

With a sigh, he sanded and folded the list and stood, calling for Rodgers to come dress him for the day.

As he made his way down the curving staircase, he heard cries from the library and, recognizing those voices, changed course. He pushed open the door to see his girls nestled at Meg’s feet, staring in rapt attention as she read to them in whispered tones. Her voice rose as she came to some climax in the book and the girls squealed.

He couldn’t help but laugh.

The second they heard the sound, they sprang to their feet, shrieked in delight, and charged him like Huns on the battlefield. He barely braced himself before they hit.

“Papa! Papa!”

He picked them up, one by one, and swung them around, and then called them by each other’s names, because he knew it delighted them to think he couldn’t tell them apart in their mischief. Although he knew which was which. He could see it in their eyes.

“What are you doing here?” he asked with a smile at Meg.

“We’re reading,” she said primly, holding up a copy of The Swiss Family Robinson by Wyss.

“Ah,” he said. “Adventure.”

“On a tropical island!” Lizzie cried.

“I should like to go to a tropical island,” Vicca said. She’d always been the more daring of the two.

“They wanted to read this.” Meg gestured to a translation of Grimm’s Fairy Tales on the table. “But I decided it was far too ghastly for such tender minds.”

He took the book and thumbed through. “Excellent judgement,” he said with a laugh. How like his girls to prefer horror.

“Papa,” Vicca said, clutching his hand and staring up at him pleadingly. “Can we go outside and play in the snow? Meg said we had to wait until it was warmer.”

“Did she?” He glanced at Meg who nodded.