Page 54 of The Duke Who Loved Me (The Duke's Estates 1)

“We are sure the rat has abandoned the house now that its den is gone,” said James.

Neither of the children seemed convinced, and Cecelia didn’t blame them. She’d heard that seeing a single rat meant that there were many more unseen, but she didn’t say so. She did eye the corners of the room for signs. Then she noticed that her gloves were smudged from the worm-eaten wood. She removed them.

“Never mind,” Ned said to his sister. “I got a plan. Fixed it up first thing this morning, before you was awake.”

“What plan?” asked James.

“A first-rate one. You’ll see.” Ned grinned up at him.

“You need more help,” Cecelia said to James. The sooner the house was cleared, the better.

“Yes, I think I must hire some workmen so that we can go faster. And certainly to haul away the rejected bits.” He pointed at the discarded furniture outside, which was beginning to fill the walled area.

Belatedly she realized he was wearing different clothing—his own. “Have you been to your rooms?”

“I sent Ned over with a note for Hobbs. My landlady said he’d packed up his things and gone.” James had been annoyed and then relieved at this news. “I expect he was lured away. Bingham was always trying to poach my valet.” He shrugged. “It’s just as well. Hobbs gossiped like a washerwoman.”

“You don’t care?”

“Strangely, I don’t, much.” James had wondered about this himself. A few weeks ago he would have been livid. Now it didn’t seem terribly important.

“What is happening to you, James?”

It was true that something was. He didn’t know what. So instead of answering, he said, “Come and see our room of oddities.”

He led Cecelia to the first room he’d emptied, the children trailing behind. “See here,” he said, picking up an item from the long table they’d set up there. “This clever implement combines a spoon and a fork. Good for stews, I suppose.”

“We’re calling it a foon,” said Ned.

“Foon,” Jen repeated with a giggle. She wore a pink gown that had been chopped off at the hem to fit her small stature and tied around the middle with a scarf. Ned had on a billowing lawn shirt with the sleeves rolled up. It hung nearly to his knees and was liberally streaked with dust.

James set the implement down and picked up a large pair of calipers. “Didn’t that fellow who told fortunes use something like this?” he asked Cecelia.

“He predicted temperaments, not fortunes. He was a phrenologist.”

“Ah, yes.” James moved on from this unfamiliar word. “We have powder horns for muzzle-loading muskets, and look at this.” He whirled an ornate, rotating bookstand carved with miniature gargoyles. “You can spread your book open here and read sermons to a reluctant audience. The carvings show what becomes of the inattentive.” He grinned at her. “Ned thinks it’s better than a museum.”

“Never been to a museum,” muttered Ned.

“We got knives, too,” said Jen. She held up a long, slender dagger in a tarnished silver sheath.

“Indeed, Jen.” James pushed the bookstand aside and revealed a litter of knives. “Uncle Percival seems to have been particularly fond of short blades. We’ve found them stuck in everywhere. Daggers, poniards, dirks, a stiletto. I would call it a collection if I could perceive any organization.”

“I was thinking the old man was afeard for his life and wanted a knife to hand wherever he was,” said Ned with a ghoulish relish.

“An intriguing idea,” James replied. “But a bit too adventurous for Uncle Percival, I fear.”

“You said you didn’t know him so well,” Ned pointed out.

“That’s true.” James grinned at the boy. “It is gratifying to picture the old fellow skulking through the place always ready to whip out a dagger.”

“Mebbe he had secret passageways underneath the piles,” added Ned.

“No, Ned, now I am seeing him as an oversized rodent.”

“Like a rat-man? Ugh.” Jen shuddered.

“Exactly. But he wasn’t, Jen. He was a perfectly…” He stopped.

---