Page 6 of The Duke and his Muse (Wayward Dukes’ Alliance #32)
Jane didn’t know what she’d expected from a duke’s residence, but she approved of what she’d seen so far of the Elizabethan mansion known as Bartlett House.
The drawing room where she was seated was at least three times larger than her parlor, decorated in calming shades of blue, with a backdrop of colorful birds dancing across wallpaper.
A footman had shown Jane to the room where a beautiful black haired lady was already seated, a tea tray on the low table before her. Jane was announced and clumsily curtsied to the dowager duchess, one of her arms clasping a portfolio of her sketches.
“Your Grace.”
The other woman rose to her feet. “Miss Hayward, welcome to Bartlett House.” A quick nod dismissed the footman, and the lady retook her seat, waving a hand for Jane to sit nearby on a stuffed chair.
“Tea?”
“Yes, your Grace. I take one sugar and milk.”
When the teacup was placed before her, Jane lifted her gaze to the dowager who was studying her.
The dowager nodded to indicate Jane should place her portfolio on the table. “Your journey was comfortable?”
“Yes, your Grace.” Jane wondered how many times she would say ‘your Grace’ that afternoon.
A commotion in the corridor outside the room heralded the arrival of the duke and his son. Her eyes first went to the duke.
Dressed in what she imagined were stay at home clothes- low heeled shoes instead of boots, a light weight jacket- the duke still looked every inch a member of the ton . His black hair was immaculately groomed, his strong chin freshly shaven.
The man held his son’s hand, and the vision pulled at her heart. She prided herself on being a good judge of character- she believed the duke had sincere affection for his son.
She was surprised when the duchess mentioned her son’s past writing, but also glad.
“That is splendid to hear.” She nodded. “You have read my father’s books. Perhaps you could complete the story.”
* * * * *
Graham felt a moment of panic when Miss Hayward suggested he could write a children’s book. “You have no idea whether I have any writing talent, Miss Hayward. Perhaps I would not do your father’s legacy justice.”
“I had never thought to hear you admit such a thing,” the woman replied, knitting her brows. She looked as if she would say more, but bit her lip instead.
“A duke unsure of himself?” he chuckled. “I don’t wonder at your astonishment.”
He looked about and appeared to realize his mother and the nurse were listening to the conversation, for he asked seriously, “You would trust me to write your father’s book about a shy hedgehog?”
“A shy hedgehog named Daniel,” she replied quietly.
Now they had Daniel’s attention as well as the others.
“I am quite familiar with your father’s writing style…” he replied, touched by the idea of a hedgehog named after his son.
She nodded. “Perhaps you can think on it for a few days. Keep a few of my sketches of the hedgehog to inspire you.”
He nodded as well before asking, “Is the forest near your home inspiration for the Calm Wood in the books?”
“It is!” She smiled. “How wonderful that you could tell.”
There was a short silence. He felt as if the sun had shone on him when she’s smiled, leaving him at a loss for words. Graham eventually shook himself and said, “I will send a missive within a sennight telling you of my decision regards writing the book.”
“Excellent.” Jane took a long sip of tea and placed her cup and saucer on the table in front of her. “I look forward to your correspondence.”
The young woman took her leave soon after, and Mrs. Blight took Daniel upstairs for his bath. Graham was left alone in the parlor with his mother.
“That was an interesting development.”
He didn’t bother to ask what the dowager referred to but merely sighed and sat back against the cushions of the settee.
“What will you do?” his mother asked.
“I will decide within the next few days.” He closed his eyes.
The dowager chuckled, and his eyes flew open. “Is there something you wish to say?”
“You will write the book. For Daniel.”
She had the right of it. He would do anything for that little boy.
* * * * *
Jane found the return journey home just as comfortable as the trip to Bartlett House, despite being peppered with questions by Maisie.
“Everyone below stairs says the dowager and her son are ever so nice.” Maisie winked. “What do you think, Miss?”
“They were very kind to me,” she replied softly, still thinking about the little boy Daniel.
The child sported his father’s black hair, but his eyes were hazel, whereas the duke had blue eyes. Daniel looked well-groomed and well fed. She smiled to herself, remembering how gentle the duke had been with his son.
“You like the duke,” Maisie said with a sly grin.
She threw up her hands. Her maid was a hopeless romantic. “Maisie! If we are to work together on a book, I think it is a good thing I like him.”
Two days later she received a missive from the duke telling her he would like to write the children’s book and that he would call on her on the morrow.
Despite the high-handed tactic of assuming she would be home to receive him, she was rather excited at the prospect of seeing the man again.
* * * * *
Alone in his study, Graham twisted the signet ring, a symbol of the Wayward Duke’s Alliance, on his left hand pinky, thinking back to the day he’d met his now deceased wife.
Caroline had been a vision in white satin, her blonde hair dressed high and glowing in the candlelight at the ball given by the Duke of Cranbrook.
The duke’s estate was in northern England close to the Scottish border. Rarely did the Duke’s Alliance meet en masse, but the occasion of the ball was the duke’s 65 th birthday. The duchess had wanted to celebrate the momentous occasion with as many friends and family members as possible.
Caroline was the eldest daughter of a marquess and lived at a nearby estate. He’d at first thought her shy and prided himself on bringing her out of her shell.
Once they were wed, he’d learned she wasn’t shy at all. She merely didn’t care for the company of men. She was verbose when with members of her own sex, but what he thought was shyness was a lack of interest in most things not involved with herself.
Pretty manners and fluttering eyelashes had put him under her spell, and before he knew it he was wedded to a fortune hunter.
Instead of asking for advice from the Duke’s Alliance, he’d proceeded headlong into marriage, sure the lady had finer feelings for himself despite his not being sure what he felt for the lady.
“Why the hurry?” his mother had asked. “Is there a reason you MUST wed quickly?”
He’d replied truthfully, “The lady is suitable and we get on well together.”
Although they’d had no physical interaction than a chaste kiss, Graham was convinced by her blushes that his bride to be was as eager to wed as he. She was lovely, sweet, and everything he thought he wanted in a wife.
On their wedding night he’d been appalled to find his willowy blonde bride shivering in her bed.
“Caroline?”
“Husband,” she whispered between gritted teeth.
He’d climbed into bed beside her and held her loosely, afraid to move. Afraid she would run from her bedchamber.
She eventually stopped trembling and said, “Be gentle.”
He’d done his best to arouse her with soft kisses and gentle caresses. “This may hurt.”
Overcome with passion for his wife, he’d consummated the marriage and afterwards she had sobbed. At first he thought she was in pain, but she quickly disavowed him of that idea.
“Please leave me now. I should like my maid as I feel unclean now.”
The next day Caroline had acted normally and when he visited her in his bedchamber she said starkly, “Get on with it.”
He’d not been able to stomach touching her again and a few weeks later later left the estate for Wiltham Abbey in Norfolk.
His mother was told the truth- “she loathes my touch”- and the subject was not discussed again. Sporadic letters were received from Caroline, filled with news of the estate and her family.
When he next met the Duke of Cranbrook, he did take the time to consult with the man on his rushed nuptials.
“There were rumors, of course,” the old duke told Graham at a rout in London. “She comes from a distinguished family, but their fortune was gambled away by her brother.”
He’d known he must address his marriage at some point, but he lacked the desire to do so.
Caroline’s funeral had been private, and small, only himself, the vicar, and Caroline’s brother attending. Her brother had not questioned the arrangements, nor disputed the burial plot in the family crypt at the village churchyard.
The man seemed as uninterested in his sibling’s in death as he had been in her life.
His lack of care for anything but a lucrative marriage settlement gave Graham more insight to Caroline’s upbringing.
Her parents had died when she was very young and she’d been left to an indifferent brother to raise.
The realization made him even more adamant he would bring Daniel up with care. After a few days wait so as not to look too eager, he would send a note to Miss Hayward informing the lady he would collaborate with her on a children’s book.
He felt a lightness he hadn’t felt in a long time. There was no way he would attribute the feeling to seeing the independent lady illustrator again.