A small cry from the adjoining bedroom made Charlotte stand. “I’ll be back in a moment. Diana, I’ll allow you to show Lord Bryant out.” Diana breathed a sigh of relief, but it was too soon. “Or read to him—I mean—the boys. Whatever you feel is best.”

Charlotte scampered off to the bedroom, most likely pleased about not being the one to offend the baron by asking him to leave. She had left that to Diana.

Lord Bryant leaned forward and placed his elbow on the table, his face in his hand. His eyes were as wide and eager as her old puppy’s. “What shall we read first?”

Diana groaned. It was impossible for her to purposely disappoint Lord Bryant. He had done so much for her. She turned in her chair and reached for a book from the bookshelf behind her. German Popular Stories was one of the boys’ favorites. Without thinking too much about it, she jumped right into the first story: “Hans in Luck.”

She took a deep breath and began. She had gotten no farther than Hans receiving his large silver coin in exchange for seven years of work when Tommy interrupted. “Why aren’t you doing the voices?” She paused. With a quick glance at Lord Bryant, who was sitting with his arms crossed expectantly, she took a deep breath and continued.

The voice she used for Hans was squeaky and well-practiced. Nothing to be too ashamed of. But the first man Hans met on the way home to his mother was a man on horseback. Without taking her eyes off the book, she lowered her voice. “What do you say to changing?” she growled, using the voice she reserved for the crafty horseman, who traded his wild horse for the more valuable silver.

Lord Bryant shuffled his feet, and she thought she heard a small cough come from his direction. She plowed on. Thankfully, the horseman’s part was small. She continued reading, then abruptly stopped.

She should have chosen a different story.

“Why did you stop?” Tommy asked, his eyes wide in anticipation. “You are almost to the good part.”

Diana squirmed in her seat. “Why don’t you say that part, Tommy?”

“Me?” Tommy pointed to his chest. “I can’t read.”

“But you know it. You can say it without reading.”

Lord Bryant leaned forward, and Diana was reminded, once again, how large he was for the nursery table. “Oh, I think Miss Barton should say it.”

Diana shook her head. “You don’t even know which part it is.”

“But you don’t want to read it,” he said, eyes sparkling, “which means it will most likely be even better than your horseman’s voice.”

Oh, it would be better, all right. If better meant complete humiliation in front of Lord Bryant. She was quite certain that was exactly what he meant. She passed the book to Lord Bryant. “You are the guest. The boys get to hear me read nearly every night. Why don’t you read it?”