Page 27 of The Duke and his Muse
He arrived at the cottage at exactly one o’clock. Daniel had remained at Bartlett House, so occupied with new toys acquired in London he’d barely noticed his father leave the nursery.
Maisie opened the door to his knock, a smile playing about her lips. “Good day, Your Grace. My mistress is waiting for you in the parlor.”
“With tea and biscuits?” he asked hopefully.
“And cinnamon buns,” the maid replied with a wink.
Jane stood as he entered the room, looking lovely in the cream dress he thought highlighted her slim curves so well. Her brown hair shone with good health, her welcoming smile lit up the room.
“Your Grace, it is lovely to see you again. I hope your visit to London was all you hoped it would be.”
When he was seated across from her on the settee, she retook her seat on the stuffed chair she always sat on during his visits. Oliver, possibly sensing no child in tow today, rubbed against his trouser legs. He reached down to give the cat a scratch behind the ears.
Miss Hayward knew his preference for black tea and handed him a teacup and saucer. He took a quick sip and then placed at the table by his elbow. The plate of cinnamon buns looked delicious, but he would get to the point of his visit.
“Daniel stayed at home today,” his hostess observed.
“He is quite occupied with all the goodies he acquired in London. As a matter of fact, he wanted you to have this.” He pulled the small ceramic cat from his jacket and handed it to Miss Hayward.
“Daniel wanted me to have this?” Her smile was confused. He said this was for me?”
“When we saw it in a shop, he pointed at it and said Oliver and forest lady over and over again until I purchased the item.” He shrugged. “I assumed you’re the forest lady.”
“I like that. I’m the forest lady.” She grinned before asking, “You wanted to know more about the publishing contracts?”
He shook his head. “Not particularly. I merely wanted a reason to see you.”
“You did?” the woman replied, her cheeks flushing most becomingly. He would have to remember to make her blush, and often.
“I think we should write more books,” he said calmly.
She nodded. “We should.”
“Perhaps Oliver should join the forest friends.”
She gasped. “An excellent idea!”
“I had another excellent idea,” he said softly, leaning in.
“Yes?” she asked, and he decided he liked to hearherbreathless.
“We should be married.” And with that pronouncement he sat back against the cushions of the settee and smiled his best smile.
“Married?” She put a finger to her lips as if thinking. “Married.”
He reached out a hand. “Might I hold your hand a moment?” Surely she would think he was off his head.
She reached out her gloveless hand and placed it in his. He felt a spark touch him where their skin met, and he closed his eyes a moment before he leaned in and kissed the top of her hand and felt her tremble beneath his lips.
“Your Grace,” she mumbled, slowly regaining her hand.
“Have I offended you, Jane?”
She shook her head, hands folded in her lap, her eyes bright.
“I love you, Jane, and I want to marry you. Live with you always.” He looked about him. “Will you live with me? We can visit the cottage as often as you want. Oliver is welcome at Bartlett House. I need you Jane. You have brought such light into my life, such purpose. Be my muse for always.”
EPILOGUE
