Page 10 of The Duke and his Muse
“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 theboy 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 sondoesenjoy 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.”
