Page 18 of Good Duke Gone Rogue

She pulled her hand from his and went back to staring out the window. At the darkness.

Chapter 8

THE NEXT DAY, AS Reggie was walking down the corridor, he heard a strange scuffling sound in the portrait room. Rarely was anyone ever in the portrait room. What even was a portrait room? He did not truly know, though he could muster a fair amount of appreciation for his family history and the poor sods that had gone before him.

Ducking into the room, Reggie was greeted by the sight of Bernadette’s son staring up at an old painting.

The boy must have heard him enter, but he was in no hurry to react. He looked neither awkward nor belligerent. Just…curious and content.

“Do you know him?” Reggie asked.

The boy turned and shook his head. “Should I?”

“Not really. He’s not famous for anything in particular except being my great uncle. Or great grandfather’s uncle.” He tappedhis chin playfully, making the boy chuckle. “I can never remember which.”

“You don’t know your great uncle from your great grandfather’s uncle?”

“Can you tell the difference between these two?” Reggie pointed first at the painting above the boy and then down the row at a similar looking man.

Astonishment crowded Jacob’s face. “They do bear a striking resemblance.”

“Exactly.” Reggie clapped his hands. “Now, the real question is, can you find the handsomest among them all? I’ll give you a clue, he looks like me.”

Jacob whirled around looking for the painting. He strolled one way and then another, finally standing in front of a painting of a young man.

“This one looks like you. Only smaller.”

Smaller was an interesting choice of words. Considering the man in the painting was Reggie only a few years ago, he looked quite the same. At least, in his own mind.

“Smaller, you say.”

“Yes.” Jacob skirted a glance between the painting and the real live model. Pointing up at it, as if Reggie could follow his index finger to the exact place on the painting he referred to. “His arms are smaller.”

Reggie chuckled. Truth be told, his arms were quite a bit smaller in the painting, so he took pride in the fact that he had filled out his body.

“It must be nice to be big now,” Jacob looked up at him with a small trace of concern.

Instantly, Reggie understood the boy. He remembered being a gangly young boy, impatient to grow up. Reggie had never been bullied, well, not more than any other child, but he had been a bit insecure of his size during his youth. Long skinny limbsdidn’t seem to draw the attention from the female sex that he had desired. It wasn’t until a few years ago really, that he felt he had deemed himself a man worth looking at.

“Don’t worry. You’ll grow up one day and fill out your body.” Archly, he added, “You might even grow stronger than me. But not more handsome, please.”

Jacob laughed. “I can’t promise that.”

Cheeky little boy. “Everyone has their limitations, my boy. Maybe you’ll be stronger.” He paused. “Maybe,” Reggie waggled his brows, “just maybe you’ll be more handsome than me. It could happen. But there will be something else. Rest assured. A chink in your armor if you will, for no one is perfect.”

He shouldn’t have been, but he was a little started by the innocent question, “What’s the chink in your armor?”

There were too many to list, and instead of baring his heart to the small boy, he said, “Not every chink is visible.”

Jacob seemed to be thinking that over. “My Mama is perfect,” He beamed. “I don’t think she has any chinks.”

And Reggie was on the verge of agreeing with him, when a flicker of doubt crossed Jacob’s face. “I guess she does have a scar.” His brows furrowed momentarily, then his eyes lighted. “But I still think she’s the most beautiful Mama.”

Again, Reggie wanted to agree but was stopped short.

“How did she get that scar? Do you know? She mentioned something about a fire, but I can’t remember the rest.”

If Bernadette had told the boy, he didn’t see any harm in sharing more, so he told Jacob the story. When he was done, the two were chuckling about all the trouble Reggie and Bernadette could have been in, but somehow had evaded.

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