Page 1 of The Duke and his Muse (Wayward Dukes’ Alliance #32)

Graham Bartlett, Duke of Exeter, blinked at the frowning woman, Mrs. Blight, holding the hand of a dark-haired young boy. “What did you just say?”

“This is your son.” Mrs. Blight sniffed, raising her chin. “He’s two years of age and has no living relative that cares about him, poor mite.”

“Excuse me, madam. ” He kept his voice even as the red eyes and wet cheeks of the child revealed the tot had cried recently. “If this is indeed my son, I had no idea of his existence until this very moment.”

The paragon of indignation, his wife’s nursemaid when she was a child, pursed her lips. “The duchess wrote to you about him several times.”

“She most decidedly did not,” he replied forcefully. “I would have come straight away if I’d known of his birth.”

Graham became aware of others being witness to their heated conversation: his housekeeper, Mrs. Deals, and his butler. Both were relics from his father’s time as duke and looked skeptical of the validity of his words as well they might.

He had not visited his family seat for nearly three years, leaving his new bride to her own devices until he’d received a letter from his housekeeper to notify him of Caroline’s death from influenza.

“Did no one think to write to my mother about the child?” he asked into the silence.

The housekeeper and butler exchanged a glance while Mrs. Blight continued to frown at him.

“We thought it better not to after being informed of your mother’s condition,” his housekeeper replied hesitantly.

He raised a brow, afraid to ask what condition she referred to. If he spoke again at the moment, his anger might boil over and scare the young child.

Taking a breath, Graham smiled down at the boy before him. “Hello, Daniel. It is nice to meet you.”

The boy wedged himself closer to his minder, turning his face away from his father.

“Perhaps later we might become better acquainted,” he said kindly before directing his attention to the boys’ nurse. “That will be all for now, Mrs. Blight. You’re dismissed.”

The woman gently grasped one of Daniel’s hands and with soothing words, coaxed the boy from her skirts and out of the entry hall.

“Let us speak in my study, Mrs. Deals. An ambush in the entry was not what I expected upon my arrival home.” He nodded to the butler. “See that we are not disturbed, Albert.”

Graham turned on his heal without waiting for a response and walked from the entry hall down a corridor to his study. The slumping of the housekeeper’s sturdy shoes could be heard on the hardwood floor behind him.

Once in the study, he waved a hand to one of the leather chairs in front of his grandfather’s oak desk.

Once the housekeeper was seated, Graham closed the door to the room and took his own seat behind the desk.

A brief glance around the study assured him little had changed in the time he had been gone.

“It seems there have been quite a lot of misunderstandings amongst the staff at Bartlett House,” he said grimly, careful to keep his expression neutral. “What pray tell do you believe is my mother’s current condition ?”

“The duchess informed the staff the dowager suffers from dementia,” the woman replied without preamble. “And that she resides in the Norfolk dower house with her maid and a nurse.”

“And I suppose the duchess assured you I had written her about my mother’s condition?” he asked. It was growing increasingly harder for him to hold his temper in check.

“She did, your Grace. The duchess often mentioned that she and the estate manager were corresponding with you.” She paused. “I and the staff were led to believe you weren’t to be bothered with troubles here.”

He’d known this woman since he was a child. Had thought she at least respected him. On the other hand, what decent man would have left his wife in a new home all by herself?

One who had been hoodwinked into a loveless marriage.

“That is all for now, Mrs. Deals. Now I should like to seek out my estate manager and ascertain why he did not apprise me of certain events here in Exeter.” He rose to his feet, full of energy despite his long journey from London.

“Your Grace?” Mrs. Deals stood up, her expression changing to one of embarrassment.

“Yes?”

“Your estate manager, Mr. Binns, had a tendre for the late duchess, I believe. I would normally not speak out of turn, but it might explain your not being notified of certain events at the estate.”

He closed his eyes a moment. His life was getting progressively tangled by the minute. Opening his eyes, he asked, “Is there anything else I should know, Mrs. Deals?”

“No, your Grace.”

Without another word he exited the room and returned to the entry hall where he donned his beaver hat and took up his walking stick. He did not speak to the footman loitering nearby as he exited the house into the cool air.

The estate manager’s office was in the same building as the stable block. The man had an office and an adjoining large room for his bedchamber and sitting room. Graham knocked at the door and strode into the office without waiting for a reply.

“Your Grace!” Binns jumped to his feet from behind a battered oak desk. “We didn’t expect you until tomorrow.”

Graham stood ramrod straight, indignation filling him. “Had you hoped to come up with a reasonable explanation by then?”

“Your Grace?” The man looked suitably cowed by his employer’s rough tone.

“As to why you never once mentioned my son or inquired after my mother’s supposed medical condition in any of your correspondence.” He was seated on the hard-backed chair in front of the desk, adopting a relaxed posture. A posture quite at odds with the irritation he was feeling.

“The duchess assured me she had written to you of such matters,” the man blurted out, his face turning pale.

“Did she?” he smiled tightly.

“It was by her direction that she and only she was to discuss your son and mother with you.”

“And your loyalty was to my wife.”

Now the man turned red. “I… I respected her wishes.”

“You work for me. Your loyalty should have been to me.”

Binns dropped into his chair behind the desk. “You’re right, your Grace. It was a mistake.”

“A mistake you repeated for years.” He rose to his feet. “I’d like to see all of the estate ledgers in my study in one hour.”

“Oh yes! Of course, Your Grace!”

Graham exited the building, a grim smile on his face. The manager had looked relieved upon hearing his employer’s request.

He shouldn’t be.