Page 18 of The Duke and his Muse
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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 anapkin. 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?”
Chapter Ten
“These pages are lovely!” Miss Hayward nodded, her attention on the sheets of paper she held. “You’ve captured my father’s style very well.”
He was happy to hear her words. He’d enjoyed writing the pages and her approval meant a lot to him. “Your sketches are extremely helpful to set the scene. Do you have some of the stream? Of the rescue of Leopold?”
“I do.” Miss Hayward placed his pages on the table beside the tea tray and rose to her feet. “They’re just here in my writing desk.”
He eyed the piece of furniture she referred to. “That desk is a beautiful piece of craftsmanship.”
“It was my father’s,” the woman replied, retrieving several sketches from a drawer and returning to her seat on a stuffed chair across from him. Reaching across the low table, sha handed her sketches to him.
He looked over the drawings, four in total, impressed as before with her skill. “These are marvelous. No wonder your father’s books appeal to young and old alike.”
