Page 15 of The Duke and his Muse (Wayward Dukes’ Alliance #32)

Jane read the letter in her shaking hand. “He’s coming today! I can’t believe he’s coming today!”

“Who is coming?” Maisie asked from the doorway of the parlor. She’d been baking that morning and wiped her floured hands on the apron she wore.

“The Duke of Exeter!” She fanned herself with the piece of vellum in her hands. “He received word our book was to be published and says he wants to find out more about the process.”

“More?” Maisie tutted. “Just an excuse to see you. I tell you, he will call without the boy. I’ll wager a farthing.”

“Maisie, don’t be daft.” Seated on her favorite stuffed chair, Oliver jumped onto her lap. “The duke wants to see me for business reasons.”

“Let me wash up and make sure your cream dress is serviceable. Good thing I made cinnamon buns today. It must be a sign.”

Jane snorted in reply as her maid rushed from the room. Absentmindedly petting Oliver, she asked the feline, “What do you think, Beasty? Is today the day all my dreams come true?”

She laughed out loud. Her dreams? Vague notions of a family one day, perhaps. She sobered, remembering why Maisie said the duke really went to London. To be sure of his feelings.

A solicitor’s clerk had provided her first marriage proposal. Might a duke provide the second? No one could say The Duke of Exeter was a fortune hunter.

“Your dress is waiting for you,” Maisie said brightly from the doorway. “Shall we try a simple chignon for your hair? The wispy bits of hair around your face is ever so attractive.”

“That will be perfect,” she replied, shooing Oliver from her lap. “I’ll go up now.”

Jane hesitated on the landing above, turning toward the closed door of her father’s bedchamber.

There was a cupboard next to it, then her bedchamber.

Maisie slept, she said happily, in the attic.

She opened the door to her father’s room and suddenly viewed the room as a different space. As a nursery.

She could remove the faded green wallpaper and paint pictures of her forest friends. Daniel would love the room. And would someday have a sibling or siblings. She could feel a flush rise from her chest to cover her face.

Jane knew little about how to become with child, but she knew it meant being intimate with a man. Could she ask Maisie about such things? She couldn’t imagine that conversation.

“Miss?” The maid stood on the landing outside Jane’s bedchamber.

“I’m coming,” she replied hurriedly, exiting the bedchamber and closing the door behind her.

She must get her emotions, and wayward thought, under control. The duke would arrive at her little cottage in the forest very soon.

* * * * *

His valet had learned to tie a new cravat knot whilst in London and Graham liked it very much. He checked his appearance again in the Cheval mirror in the corner of his dressing room.

“You look splendid,” his mother said dryly from behind him. “A black coat and tan trousers is all the fashion in London.”

“I’ve not over done it?” he asked seriously.

The dowager shook her head. “Now if you had a stickpin in your cravat that would be overdoing it. You look elegant. Reserved.”

“You’re not going to try and stop me from proposing to the girl?” he asked with a raised brow.

“You did as I asked. You had no interest in any of the ladies I shoved under your nose. I admit defeat.”

“Defeat?” he frowned.

“A poor choice of words. I admit that you know your own mind. Miss Hayward, while not of high rank, is a lovely, kind young woman. I believe she will make you happy.” The dowager smiled and truly looked happy for him.

“Thank you, Mother. Now wish me luck.” He picked up a small orange ceramic cat from a nearby dresser and placed it in his pocket.

“What is that?”

“A present Daniel wanted me to give Miss Hayward.” He exited the room.

His mother followed him into his bedchamber. “The woman owns a cat?”

“She does.”

The dowager had never let animals in the house, even his father’s hunting dogs. Once he married Jane, the dowager would live in the dower house. He would let his wife have as many pets as she wanted.

He arrived at the cottage at exactly one o’clock. Daniel had remained at Bartlett House, so occupied with new toys acquired in London he’d barely noticed his father leave the nursery.

Maisie opened the door to his knock, a smile playing about her lips. “Good day, Your Grace. My mistress is waiting for you in the parlor.”

“With tea and biscuits?” he asked hopefully.

“And cinnamon buns,” the maid replied with a wink.

Jane stood as he entered the room, looking lovely in the cream dress he thought highlighted her slim curves so well. Her brown hair shone with good health, her welcoming smile lit up the room.

“Your Grace, it is lovely to see you again. I hope your visit to London was all you hoped it would be.”

When he was seated across from her on the settee, she retook her seat on the stuffed chair she always sat on during his visits. Oliver, possibly sensing no child in tow today, rubbed against his trouser legs. He reached down to give the cat a scratch behind the ears.

Miss Hayward knew his preference for black tea and handed him a teacup and saucer. He took a quick sip and then placed at the table by his elbow. The plate of cinnamon buns looked delicious, but he would get to the point of his visit.

“Daniel stayed at home today,” his hostess observed.

“He is quite occupied with all the goodies he acquired in London. As a matter of fact, he wanted you to have this.” He pulled the small ceramic cat from his jacket and handed it to Miss Hayward.

“Daniel wanted me to have this?” Her smile was confused. He said this was for me?”

“When we saw it in a shop, he pointed at it and said Oliver and forest lady over and over again until I purchased the item.” He shrugged. “I assumed you’re the forest lady.”

“I like that. I’m the forest lady.” She grinned before asking, “You wanted to know more about the publishing contracts?”

He shook his head. “Not particularly. I merely wanted a reason to see you.”

“You did?” the woman replied, her cheeks flushing most becomingly. He would have to remember to make her blush, and often.

“I think we should write more books,” he said calmly.

She nodded. “We should.”

“Perhaps Oliver should join the forest friends.”

She gasped. “An excellent idea!”

“I had another excellent idea,” he said softly, leaning in.

“Yes?” she asked, and he decided he liked to hear her breathless.

“We should be married.” And with that pronouncement he sat back against the cushions of the settee and smiled his best smile.

“Married?” She put a finger to her lips as if thinking. “Married.”

He reached out a hand. “Might I hold your hand a moment?” Surely she would think he was off his head.

She reached out her gloveless hand and placed it in his. He felt a spark touch him where their skin met, and he closed his eyes a moment before he leaned in and kissed the top of her hand and felt her tremble beneath his lips.

“Your Grace,” she mumbled, slowly regaining her hand.

“Have I offended you, Jane?”

She shook her head, hands folded in her lap, her eyes bright.

“I love you, Jane, and I want to marry you. Live with you always.” He looked about him. “Will you live with me? We can visit the cottage as often as you want. Oliver is welcome at Bartlett House. I need you Jane. You have brought such light into my life, such purpose. Be my muse for always.”