Page 45 of A Widow for the Beastly Duke

Of course, her heart was still pounding in her chest, but she was grateful that she was able to draw the women’s attention away from her supposed ‘relationship’ with a certain duke.

Because she knew for a fact that there would never be any such relationship.

No matter how much remembering that kiss set her ablaze.

CHAPTER14

“Your Grace! I’m back to see Argus again if you don’t mind. This time, I brought him a gift!”

Victor glanced up from his paperwork to see young Tristan standing in the doorway of his study, holding what appeared to be a rough-hewn wooden figure.

Argus, that mischievous dog, was already bounding across the room, tail wagging furiously as he rushed to greet the boy.

“Tristan,” Victor said with a resigned sigh, putting down his pen. “I see you’ve once again decided to skip the formalities of an invitation.” For some reason, he could not help but entertain the child. “If I don’t mind? I don’t suppose you care a wit if I minded or not.”

Tristan’s bright smile dimmed a bit, and he had the sense to look chastised.

“I did ask the butler at the gate this time, though.” The child was pleading his case. “He told me that you were busy but that I could wait in the gardens until you were free.”

Victor sighed again. Of course, Thatcher would let him in—the old gatekeeper had a well-known soft spot for children, having raised five of his own. Victor should have seen this coming and given clearer instructions.

“And do you think I’m less busy now, perchance?” he asked drily.

Tristan shuffled his feet. Leaning down to gently pat Argus’s head, he said, “I thought so. It’s nearly sundown!” At Victor’s blank look, he hurried to add, “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“Well, since you’re here, you might as well show Argus his gift,” Victor relented, surprised at his own willingness.

Maybe he was just too tired to resist. The boy seemed intent on building a bond with the dog and perhaps even with him, and Victor was finding it harder and harder to keep his usual distance.

Tristan’s face lit up at once. “I carved it myself! It’s supposed to be a little English Setter, just like him.” He held out the wooden figure for Argus to sniff. “I’m still learning to carve, but Mr. Higgins is teaching me. He says I have steady hands.”

“It’s… recognizable,” Victor said, trying to be generous. The lump of wood had four legs, at least, and something that could be called a tail if one squinted at it hard enough. “You might want to add some spots with paint.”

“That’s a brilliant idea!” Tristan exclaimed, as if Victor had just made a groundbreaking revelation. “Can I take Argus to the gardens? I promise I won’t let him dig in the flower beds again.”

“Again?” Victor raised an eyebrow.

Tristan’s eyes widened. “Did I say again? I meant… ever. I won’t let him dig ever!”

“You little imp.” Victor tutted. “Very well. But stay within sight of the house.”

As the boy raced off, Argus hot on his heels, Victor returned to his correspondence. The quarterly accounts from his shipping business in Bristol needed attention, yet he found himself repeatedly distracted by the sound of laughter drifting through the open window.

After twenty minutes of minimal progress, he gave up, striding outside to find Tristan and Argus engaged in an elaborate game of fetch involving a stick and the boy’s handkerchief.

“I think Argus is getting tired,” Victor commented, noting the dog’s heaving sides.

“Oh! Should we let him rest?” Tristan asked anxiously. “I don’t want to exhaust him.”

“A change of activity might be in order.” Victor gestured toward the path that led around the east wing. “Perhaps you’d care to see the stables.”

Tristan’s eyes lit up. “Yes, please!”

The boy chattered incessantly as they walked, a stream of observations about clouds, birds, and the particular shade of blue in the sky that somehow reminded him of jam.

Victor found that he did not hate it at all.

“Your stables are magnificent!” Tristan exclaimed as they entered the cavernous building.

---