Page 68 of The Duke Who Loved Me (The Duke's Estates 1)

The boy nodded.

“I can see how clever he is,” Cecelia replied. She hesitated, then decided to try out her idea. “I wonder if you might like to be a tailor?” she asked Ned.

“That’s a feller who sews?” Ned asked.

She stared at James, willing him to catch her drift. He held her gaze for a moment, frowning, then gave a quick nod. “A fine tailor helps set fashions,” he said to Ned. “He confers with gentlemen about the latest styles and makes certain they look their best. Someone like Weston or Stultz is highly respected and in great demand.”

“Hah.” Ned looked interested. “I don’t see how I could ever do that.”

“You would have to serve an apprenticeship,” answered James. “Work hard and learn for some years, I suppose.”

“Them costs money,” replied Ned glumly.

James met Cecelia’s eyes this time, and they held a quick silent conversation, noting that money could be found if it was wanted and that this topic should be set aside until the boy’s mother could be consulted. Glancing at Mrs. Gardener, Cecelia thought that she was at least partly aware of the exchange.

She was more certain when Mrs. Gardener said, “Enough of this nonsense now. Tidy up and come see if my pie is finished, as it ought to be.”

The tidying was a haphazard whirlwind. Effie retained the silken shawl as the children rushed out. Their mother lingered in the doorway. “I ain’t giving them too many sweets,” she said, as if she’d been asked to defend her choices. “Only one time in the day. They’ve never had many treats.”

“My dear Mrs. Gardener, feed them anything you like,” said James.

She went out. Cecelia and James were left alone. Cecelia went to look into one of the trunks. “I never dressed up from the attics when I was young,” she said.

“Neither did I,” replied James.

She laughed, as he’d hoped she would.

He gestured at the wild spill of clothing. “And you didn’t have this wealth of materials.”

“No. Mama wasn’t much interested in fashion.”

“She always looked well.”

Cecelia blinked, surprised or touched, he couldn’t tell. “She did. Also Papa was trying to educate me in philosophy. Our amusements tended to be subdued.”

“Was he? I didn’t know.” James was overjoyed to see her. When she hadn’t visited for a day, he’d nearly left the house and gone to call on her. Another day, and he would have. But she was here now, not so very far from where she’d kissed him. The kiss had not kept her away. They needed to speak of it. And, he very much hoped, do it again. But mainly to get things settled between them.

“He’d given up by the time we met,” she said. “He said my thoughts jumped about like grasshoppers.” She sniffed. “I was seven years old!”

“I have always argued that your father’s judgment is flawed. As you know.”

“So very well.” She glanced at him then away, seeming uncharacteristically shy. “You didn’t have costumes at school?”

“Not like this.” He ran his hand over the velvet robe.

“No troops of Eton boys dressed up as their illustrious ancestors?”

“None.” James took off the robe and cap and replaced them in the trunk. “Grubby boots and skinned knees were more the fashion.”

She wandered about the room examining the piles of garments. He couldn’t simply sweep her into his arms. Could he? No. Something must be said first. The right words. James felt he had so much to say and so little idea of how to put it.

“You will have to find a way to curb the children without bringing up bad memories,” said Cecelia. “Otherwise chaos will begin to reign.”

“Chaos is already monarch here,” he replied. “They fit right in.”

“But you are trying to bring order.”

“Am I? Yes, I suppose I am. But a bit of license can’t hurt. And discipline is up to their mother, is it not?”

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