Page 5 of The Duke and his Muse (Wayward Dukes’ Alliance #32)

Once Jane had returned to her chair in the parlor and Oliver regained his place on her lap, Maisie bustled into the room.

“Going to have tea with a duke tomorrow. Well I never.”

“You were listening in the corridor,” she replied with a shake of her head.

“Of course I was. A tall, handsome duke visits us… Of course I was listening.”

“You will accompany me, of course.”

Maisy winked. “Of course. What will you wear?”

“The blue crepe. It is my best dress,” she replied quickly. “I have very little else suitable.”

“The haberdashery in town would sell you fabric, and I am quite handy with a needle,” Maisie pointed out.

“I have nowhere to go to wear such finery.” She shrugged. “The visit tomorrow is merely for me to see the young child who is so distraught.”

Maisy nodded. “You have a kind heart, you do. And his Grace must have found it out.”

She was silent for a moment, thinking back to the loss of her own mother. That loss had spurred her father to write his children’s books. Jane had always drawn the creatures of the forest and her father took inspiration from her work.

“And mentioning finishing the book to honor your father.” Maisy chuckled. “He’s a sly one, he is.”

Jane nodded. “I noticed that as well.”

She did have to admit the idea of completing the book still crossed her mind. Perhaps meeting the little boy would give her inspiration to finish the story about the shy hedgehog.

It had been some time since she’d sketched her forest friends.

As Maisy exited the room with the tea tray, Jane retrieved a sketchpad from a drawer in her writing desk in one corner of the parlor.

Another drawer held her charcoals. Taking her instruments of art back to her chair, she placed them on the table next to her father’s notes.

She picked up her sketchpad which still had a page displaying a drawing of a hedgehog and looked over it with a critical eye.

It definitely looked like a young male. Her father hadn’t named the character just yet.

Daniel was as good a name as any she supposed.

The Roe deer in the series was named Betsy, the bird, Iris, and the fox, Leopold.

Yes, a male name would be perfect for the hedgehog. Betsy was the motherly character, while Iris was rather a know it all. Leopold was clever. Daniel would be a shy addition.

Jane would meet the boy and that visit would either convince her to work on the book or it would not.

It did not matter that his father was a duke; grief touched people of all stations.

She remembered how sad she had been when her mother passed and she had understood what was happening.

The young boy probably had no idea where his mother had gone, the poor mite.

* * * * *

“It’s good to see a friendly face other than my mother’s at Bartlett House,” Graham said dryly, perched on a stuffed chair in the dowager’s sitting room. “Everyone has judged me unworthy. I promise you, Nelly, I had no idea I had a child.”

“Your Grace!” His mother’s lady’s maid gave him a sweet smile. “Of course, you didn’t. Anyone who really knows you would never think such a thing.”

His mother emerged from her dressing room. “Nelly would never think anything unkind of you, my son. She has been a loyal maid and friend for many years.”

The other woman’s cheeks turned pink.

He rose to his feet. “Miss Haywood should be here any moment. I’ll just go along to the nursery and see if Daniel has woken from his nap.”

“That is what a nurse is for,” his mother said idly.

“You didn’t leave me to servants and I shall not do that with my own child,” he replied firmly.

And to be truthful, he enjoyed spending time with his son even if the boy was often sad.

He knocked at the nursery door and the door was opened by the nurse. “Your Grace! Your son just finished his afternoon meal. I was just about to bring Daniel downstairs.”

“Might I escort him with your accompaniment?”

“Whatever you wish, Your Grace.”

The woman was still not especially friendly to him, but Graham thought his attentions toward his son might have softened the nurse a bit.

Mrs. Blight stepped back into the room and Graham could see his son sitting on a rug near the hearth playing with brightly painted blocks.

The nursery had not changed overly much since he’d inhabited it. It sported the same wallpaper, rugs, and bedding in shades of green and brown. His family had always run to boys. Graham’s mother had miscarried two children; both had been male.

“Hello Daniel!” He smiled at the little boy who no longer looked scared when he saw his father. Like his nurse, the boy appeared to be slowly warming up to his father. Graham put out a hand. “Would you like to come downstairs with me? I have a new friend for you to meet.”

The boy looked at his nurse who nodded her approval and held out one of the books the boy so loved. Daniel immediately rushed to the nurse and took the book in his little hands.

“Do you want me to carry the book?” he asked the boy quietly.

Daniel’s response was to clutch the book to his chest, shaking his head repeatedly. “No!”

The boy didn’t speak often, but he did know one word and used it often.

“Shall I carry you down the stairs?”

Daniel shook his head again and clasping the book now in one hand, took his father’s offered hand.

As his fingers gently closed over Daniel’s, Graham felt a warmth spread through him and smiled. The nurse gave him a considering look and he turned away, gently pulling Daniel with him.

“There is a young woman coming to the house today to see you. Her father wrote your Forest Friends books and our visitor is the lady who drew the pictures for the books.” He didn’t feel silly discussing anything with his son after the last few months.

His mother had told him to talk as much as he could around the child as that is how the boy would learn to speak himself.

Graham took his time walking across the landing and descending the staircase, careful to let Daniel set his own pace.

He’d never thought of himself as a particularly patient man, but with his son he seemed to have all the patience in the world.

Now that the boy cried less and less daily, Graham had no desire to cause Daniel any undue anxiety.

When they reached the bottom of the staircase, he could hear voices coming down the corridor from the drawing room. His guest must have arrived.

When he entered the room, it was to find the duchess conversing with Miss Hayward quite easily. The young woman rose to her feet when she saw her host.

“Your Grace.” Her curtsy was a little shaky.

“Miss Hayward, I see you’ve met my mother.”

“Her Grace has been very kind.”

“Miss Hayward, may I present my son, Lord Daniel Bartlett.”

As incongruous at it seemed, the young woman dipped again to Daniel. He saw his mother smile softly in what he believed was approval.

“I see you have one of your books, Daniel,” the duchess said and held out a hand for the boy.

Daniel hurried to his grandmother with a brief look in the direction of Miss Haywood. Graham took a seat and his guest did the same.

There was a tea tray on the table next to a portfolio.

“Did you want tea?” his mother asked idly as she lifted Daniel onto her lap.

“No, thank you,” he replied.

Miss Hayward looked taken aback when the duchess opened the book and started to quietly read to Daniel.

He had seen his mother with children before and he hadn’t been surprised by her showering attention on Daniel when she could.

At first the boy had wanted nothing to do not only with his father, but his grandmother as well.

The duchess had visited the nursery every day bringing a rock or twig or even a flower.

The boy learned to expect a new treasure with the duchess’s visits, and Graham was disappointed he hadn’t thought of the idea himself.

He did read to the boy after his evening meal and bath, something of a routine he’d developed. And he would take the boy for a walk outside in the morning after he saw to estate business.

Estate business… He needed to hire an agent to free up his time for Daniel. He heard the clatter of a teacup in saucer and looked up to see the noise had been made by Miss Hayward.

Where had his mind been?

“Miss Hayward, I hope your journey to Bartlett House was a pleasant one?”

“Oh yes, your Grace! The carriage is well sprung and very comfortable.”

There was a moment of silence between them as they listened to the duchess slowly read the book, her tone light and engaging. A moment later, Daniel clapped his hands. “Again!”

The dowager began to read from the beginning of the tome.

“I see your son does enjoy my father’s books.”

“Have you thought more about finishing the book your father started?” he asked casually.

“I’m not much of a writer, your Grace.” She opened the portfolio on the table before her and handed a sheet of vellum to him. “I did make a few more sketches of our shy hedgehog. A hedgehog we might call Daniel.”

At the sound of his name, Daniel looked up and toward the paper Graham held. The vellum contained not only a small sketch of a hedgehog, but a drawing of all the forest creatures in the series of books crowded around a campfire near a stump in a forest clearing.

“Lopol!” Daniel scooted off the duchess’s lap and stood beside his father, intent on the sketch. “Lopol!”

“I think he is saying Leopold,” the duchess said.

He smiled. “I think you’re right.”

Daniel pointed at the sketch. “Lopol! Bessy!”

“Yes, Betsy,” Miss Hayward said with s warm smile. “And Iris.”

Daniel looked at her and grinned. “Lopol!”

“I think Leopold is his favorite,” Mrs. Blight said quietly from across the room.

Graham started. He’d forgotten about the nurse. “Mrs. Blight, I agree.”

The nurse was settled on a hard-backed chair, her stern countenance softening as she looked at her young charge.

“You know my son is a writer,” the duchess said lightly. “He wrote me many a story when he was younger.”

He frowned. His mother was being awfully familiar with the young woman she had met only a few minutes before.

“Oh yes, your Grace?”

The large brown eyes of the young miss were now on him as Daniel took the sketch from his father and proceeded to take it to his nurse.

“I did write at one time,” he replied vaguely.

“That is splendid.” Miss Hayward nodded. “You have read my father’s books. Perhaps you could complete the story of our shy hedgehog.”