Page 105 of The Duke Who Loved Me (The Duke's Estates 1)

“Indeed, Your Grace. We will discard the, er, chewed-over and worthless items, and then you may decide what to keep and what to sell from the remainder.”

“What about sentimental value?” James actually could not imagine feeling tender about any of his great-uncle’s leavings, but it seemed a responsible thing to say. “I suppose some family relics might appear worthless,” he added, as much to himself as the others.

“We will take care to set such things aside,” replied Mr. Nordling.

“I came across some odd bits in the sorting.”

Their visitor perked up. “What sorts of things, Your Grace?”

James struggled to remember. “Some old flint knives.”

“Indeed. We count collectors of ancient artifacts among our clients.”

“There were powder horns for muzzle-loading muskets,” James recalled.

“A rotating bookstand carved with miniature gargoyles,” said Cecelia. Was she laughing at him?

“And many knives,” said James. “Daggers, poniards, dirks, a stiletto, just in one room.”

“Perhaps it was the knife room,” suggested Cecelia. Her eyes were certainly laughing. Part of James shared her amusement. Another part felt ridiculed.

Mr. Nordling seemed to be searching for a polite response to this catalog.

James was afflicted by a wave of stubbornness. “I find some of the stranger things interesting,” he said to Nordling. “I should like them kept out for me to look over.”

“Of course, Your Grace. Would you wish to come every day?”

When one put it that way, he didn’t really wish to.

“So much of itisrather strange,” said Cecelia.

She thought she knew what he was thinking. Blast it, she probably did know. But that didn’t mean he had to confirm her conclusions. “I will call here each day at six,” he declared. “And you may show me what you have found.”

Cecelia looked surprised, which was gratifying.

“Yes, Your Grace,” replied Nordling. “I will bring my people in first thing tomorrow to begin the work.”

“Agreed.” The word sounded official. James liked that. “I will see you out.” As he herded the fellow toward the stairs, he turned to say to Cecelia, “I will see you back in the kitchen.”

“My proper place, Your Grace?” she murmured.

James wasn’t certain whether Nordling heard this, or understood the sarcasm if he did. But he hustled the man out, thinking that it was quite unfair of her to mock his efforts when she had been urging him to do more for years. In fact, it seemed she didn’t care to give up an ounce of control. She was too accustomed to managing him.

Returning to the kitchen, James found the entire household there, digging into a pan of scones fresh from the oven. He couldn’t blame them. There was nowhere else to sit in the house. He’d be glad when that was remedied. The hotel was feeling cramped as well.

“I’m going on to look over two houses for rent that might do for us,” Cecelia said, as if she’d heard his thoughts.

It annoyed James that she could do that when he usually had no idea what she was thinking.

“I don’t suppose you wish to come along?” she added.

“I do,” he answered, clipping the phrase.

Cecelia could tell this was a lie. Or perhaps that was too strong a word. But he certainly didnotwish to view houses for rent. That was plain in his face. Why not just say so? James was behaving very strangely. “I am happy to manage this alone,” she tried.

He frowned as if she’d said something irritating. “That will not be necessary.”

She couldn’t ask what was wrong before the entire Gardener clan, and she was in no mood to suggest a retreat to the previous duke’s bedchamber for private conversation.

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