Page 9 of The Duke and his Muse (Wayward Dukes’ Alliance #32)

Jane had found herself counting the days until the duke would again cross her doorstep. She had several sketches of woodland creatures to show him and was eager to get his opinion on them.

“Your new cream daydress is lovely,” Maisie commented, observing her mistress with a critical eye. “It’s time you had some new clothes, and fashioning a dress for you helps to fill the day.”

She hadn’t realized her maid might be bored with their sheltered existence. “Maisie, are you happy here?”

“Of course I am, Miss.” The maid winked at Jane. “With a girl from the village coming in several times a sennight, I nearly have a life of leisure.”

“You would tell me if you were unhappy, wouldn’t you?” she asked hesitantly.

“What has brought this all on? Mayhap you are feeling not as content here as you once were?” Jane took a seat at her dressing table and Maisie proceeded to fashion her mistress’s hair into a smooth chignon.

“After father died I was so caught up in estate matters and grieving…” Jane met Maisie’s glance in the dressing table mirror “Now that life has become calmer, I find I miss working on books with Father.”

“What will you do once you’ve completed the new book with the duke?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. This story about the hedgehog has brought ideas about more woodland creatures bubbling to the surface. It would be wonderful to collaborate on future books in the series.”

“There is no harm in asking his Grace about future books, Miss.” Maisie smiled briefly before returning her attention to her work.

Jane would finish the current book with the duke before bringing up another project. If he were to acquire a wife in the near future, the new duchess may not approve of Jane working so closely with her husband.

Sighing, she bit her lip and decided not to think of the future. She would have a lovely and hopefully fruitful afternoon with the duke. Brightening somewhat, she said to Maisie, “We are both content for now and should ask for nothing more.”

* * * * *

Daniel had been excited to accompany his father on his journey to see Miss Hayward.

“Forest! Forest! Forest!” he’d replied when Graham asked his son if he wanted to visit the lady who lived in the forest.

As for himself, he was interested in what the illustrator would think of the pages he’d written.

He’d instructed his valet to dress him in his best day jacket and trousers. Daniel looked quite handsome in his own ensemble.

“Who has fashioned my son’s clothes?” he’d asked the nurse before leaving Bartlett House for Matford. “He has quite a wardrobe in the first stare of fashion.”

“A tailor came from Town especially to make clothing for Daniel.”

“The boy looks to be growing out of his clothes. Please see that you give me the man’s information so I may have Daniel’s wardrobe updated.”

Miss Hayward was again waiting at the entrance to the house when his carriage arrived, dressed in a very pretty cream daydress, a bonnet covering her shiny brown hair. This visit she suggested they walk on the other side of the house.

“There is a small stream I would like to show you.”

Hand in hand with Daniel, Graham followed the young woman through a copse of trees, down a shallow hill, to arrive at the bank of a trickling stream.

“Is this your setting for Leopold’s near drowning?” he asked Miss Hayward.

“It is.” She smiled up at him from where she stood. “When the rain is heavy, the stream deepens exponentially. The danger would be unexpected as we’ve not written a storm in any of the other books.”

He nodded. “That sounds plausible. And as we discussed, Leopold could possibly save himself but chooses to have Daniel be a hero.”

“Lopol! Lopol!” Daniel released his father’s hand and stepped closer to the water.

Miss Hayward took the boys hand and said quietly, “We must be careful Daniel not to fall in. We must be smart clever Leopold.”

The boy looked up at her and smiled. Graham felt his breath catch and suddenly he knew why his mother wanted him to go to London: he had feelings for Miss Hayward.

* * * * *

Daniel insisted on holding Jane’s hand as their party walked back to the cottage. When they entered the parlor, Oliver was asleep on the cold hearth.

“Shoo!” Daniel made to run to the cat, dropping Jane’s hand. His father quickly placed his hands on the boys shoulders.

“Daniel, we don’t have to shoo the cat. He is a friend. A friend of Leopold’s.”

“Lopol?” Daniel grinned. “No shoo.”

“His name is Oliver,” she said softly. “Oliver is a cat and my very good friend.”

The maid entered with a tea tray, and Daniel’s attention was caught by the scent of cinnamon buns.

“Shall we have tea?” the duke asked his son.

“Biscuits!” The boy clapped his hands and the cat exited the room hurriedly.

The duke threw an apologetic glance at her.

She smiled. “Daniel has added some excitement to Oliver’s day.”

Seated with a cinnamon bun, the duke took a bite, chewed, and sighed happily before saying, “Your maid is a wonder with sweets. Please tell her that Daniel and I enjoy her baked goods exceedingly.”

“I will. Maisie is a treasure. I’m not sure what I would do without her.”

They enjoyed the treats for a few moments before the duke pointed to a portfolio he’d had his footman give to Maisie before Jane took the duke and his son to the stream. “Would you care to see how much I’ve accomplished on the story?”

“Oh yes!” She put down her own plate of baked goods and opened the portfolio. Taking out the papers contained there, she read silently as the duke enjoyed another cinnamon bun.

Just as Maisie entered the room, Daniel knocked over the plate before him on the table, spilling cake crumbs onto the rug covered hardwood floor.

“Oh Daniel…” The duke jumped to his feet.

“No worries, your Grace,” the maid said soothingly. She crouched down near the settee. “Perhaps the young master would help me. Daniel, is it?”

The boy blinked before slowly descending from the settee to watch the maid picking up crumbs from the floor with a napkin. Daniel picked up a chunk of ginger biscuit and placed it on the plate he’d knocked to the floor.

“Very good, Daniel!” Maisie smiled at the boy. “We’re all done. Oliver is in the kitchen. Would you like to meet the cat?”

“Oliver!” Daniel put out a hand and the maid took it. Without asking his approval, the maid took his son from the room.

“I must speak to Maisie about her forwardness,” she said to the duke in clipped tones.

“You shouldn’t.” Her companion shook his head. “She gave us an opportunity to get some real work done. While my son is occupied elsewhere, shall we discuss the book?”