Page 11 of The Duke and his Muse
He frowned. His mother was being awfully familiar with the young woman she had met only a few minutes before.
“Oh yes, your Grace?”
The large brown eyes of the young miss were now on him as Daniel took the sketch from his father and proceeded to take it to his nurse.
“I did write at one time,” he replied vaguely.
“That is splendid.” Miss Hayward nodded. “You have read my father’s books. Perhapsyoucould complete the story of our shy hedgehog.”
Chapter Six
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 theton. 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. Perhapsyoucould complete the story.”
* * * * *
Graham felt a moment of panic when Miss Hayward suggestedhecould 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?”
