Page 67 of The Duke Who Loved Me (The Duke's Estates 1)

James turned so fast that he almost tripped. Then he smiled at her in a way that made Cecelia’s heart pound.

“I wish gentlemen still wore clothes this fine,” said Ned, fingering the embroidery on his sleeve. “I knew a lady near our old place that did this kind of stitching. She had to wear powerful spectacles. She’d ruined her eyes on the fine bits.”

“You weren’t supposed to be visiting her,” said Mrs. Gardener.

“That don’t matter now,” replied Ned.

His mother threw a nervous look at James. James smiled sunnily back at her.

Ned opened another trunk. It contained rows of smaller wooden boxes. He opened one of those. “It’s wigs like the old people wore.” The boy lifted out a powdered concoction of waves and whorls and put it on his head. The new frame changed his face into something much more solemn.

“You look like an ancestral portrait,” said James.

“Or a high court judge,” said Cecelia.

They exchanged a smiling look.

“We need a mirror,” replied Ned.

“Ned,” said his mother.

“There’s a small one in my bedchamber,” said James.

Cecelia noted that he seemed to be thinking of the room as his now, rather than his old chambers. “You must have a full-length glass,” she said to Ned. “There has to be one here somewhere.”

“Undoubtedly,” said James. “But where?” He gestured at the rest of the house.

“Look at this ’en, it’s purple.” Jen lifted another wig from one of the smaller boxes. The powder on it did have a violet cast. She raised it and plopped it onto her head, but when she tried to turn and preen, the heavy mound of curls fell off. Powder whoofed out in a circle around her and streaked the satin gown.

“Jen, be careful!” cried her mother. “You’ve made a mess.”

The three children crouched as if waiting for an explosion.

“No matter,” said James again. “Look at this.” He bent over the trunk nearest him and pulled out a long, dark velvet robe, slightly moth-eaten. He put it on over his clothes. The garment fell to his feet in a straight line with wide embroidered lapels turned back at the front edges.

Cecelia noticed a flat velvet cap in the same trunk and handed it to him. James gave her a wry look, but set it on his head.

“An ancestor of mine who served Henry the Eighth wore something like this in his portrait,” he said. “I need a large gold chain of office though.”

“And a sword,” said Jen. “To chop off people’s heads.”

“What?” James turned to look at the girl.

“That old king Henry chopped off all his wives’ heads,” she explained. She made a broad cutting gesture.

“Not all,” said James. “Only two out of six.”

“Oh well, that’s all right then,” said Cecelia.

“I didn’t mean…” James began.

“Look at the stitches here,” said Ned, examining the seam of another coat. “So tiny you can’t hardly see them. That’s good work, that is.”

“You like clothes, don’t you?” Cecelia asked him.

Ned dropped the coat and ducked his head as if dodging a blow.

“He’s interested in all manner of things,” said his mother quickly. “He’s a clever lad. He likes horses, don’t you, Ned.”

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