Page 55 of The Duke Who Loved Me (The Duke's Estates 1)

Cecelia could almost hear him running through descriptive words in his mind—normal, no; kindly, no; sane, no.

“Quiet old man,” James finished. His eyes laughed into hers.

“Who are you?” Cecelia said to him. “And what have you done with James Cantrell?”

He laughed as if she was joking, though he knew she wasn’t. Indeed, he scarcely recognized himself lately. For example, if anyone had told him a month ago that he would rather enjoy sorting through broken-down furnishings with two street urchins, he would have told them they were demented. He had been a creature of theton, and now he was…what?

Cecelia was staring at him. She wanted an explanation. He had none. Like him, she would have to wait until one emerged.

He set that puzzle aside. Cecelia was here, just as he’d planned. They were nearly alone together. Turning to the children, he said, “Why don’t you go and ask your mother for some of her splendid muffins.”

Ned and Jen didn’t hesitate. Their history had left them susceptible to any offer of food. In a twinkling, they were gone.

“I have nowhere to ask you to sit, do I?” James surveyed the room. “If I pull that chair out, the rest will fall on us. And I’m certain it’s as dusty as all the rest.” There were seats in his bedchamber, but he didn’t think he should invite her there again. He was not made of steel.

“I don’t need a chair,” Cecelia said.

“What do you need?” The question popped out of his mouth, surprising James almost as much as it evidently startled Cecelia.

“I…” She blinked. Her cheeks reddened. Her lips parted, then closed again without a word.

James very much wanted to know what she was thinking. What had made her blush? She’d come back, as he’d known she would. But could he hope that more than curiosity had brought her? “What are you…”

“I passed one of Lady Wilton’s footmen as I was coming here,” she said at the same time.

That was clearly not the answer to his question. She had not been thinking of a footman a moment ago. “Yes, he’d been pounding on the front door,” James said. “I ventured a look and recognized the livery.”

“He didn’t try the back?” she asked.

“No, the fellow was clearly hired for his appearance rather than his intellect. I can’t imagine what he wanted.”

“Lady Wilton is concerned about her lost earl.”

“Ah, that. Concerned or incensed at the fellow’s rebellion?”

“Both?” said Cecelia.

“I shall have to talk to her. And set some inquiries in motion, I suppose. I believe there are people who do that sort of thing. I will do so, in a few days.” He couldn’t face it yet.

“You’ve decided to take up your familial duties then?”

She seemed to be marveling at the idea, which rankled. “I don’t have much choice,” James said.

“You do, you know. Look at Fleming or Pendle. You could be a wastrel like them.”

James acknowledged the point with a shrug. “I find that I can’t, actually. Perhaps it is due to your example.”

“What?”

“Through all those years, while you more or less managed my affairs, you never drew back from necessary tasks. Even those you disliked the most. And now for your father, it’s the same. I understand better than I did.”

Cecelia’s mouth hung open in astonishment. James savored the expression. He hadn’t ever confounded her before, not that he could recall. It was quite enjoyable. “You’ve been calling me selfish for years,” he added.

“Because you are!” She frowned. “You have been.”

“Perhaps so. But I never really had a job, did I? Now that I’ve inherited, many people are looking to me.”

“As I told you!”

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