Page 59 of The Duke's Pet

“And you took her in hand? The way you do me?”

“Let’s just say she knew what her life would be like married to me.” He continued to brush her hair, the left side now, stroking the little teeth over her ear as he worked the strands smooth.

“So she knew that she would be loved and disciplined.” Jemima wondered at what would have gone through his bride’s head. “Made to play kitten—”

“Oh, no, that is just for you.” He moved to the other side of her head. “But yes, loved and disciplined, you’re right, but also free to shine, to be the person she wanted to be.”

“As long as you approved of that.”

He stopped brushing. “I am the man of the house, a reasonable one but yes, my approval must be acquired on these matters.”

Jemima was quiet, wondering if he’d go on.

“I loved her very much, but it was a love cut short.”

“I loved my parents very much, their lives were cut short.”

“So we have both known grief and heartache in recent years.”

“Yes. I suppose we have.”

He stopped brushing and stepped in front of her. He tipped his head. “Yes, that is much better, now you do not look as though you have been stuck in a tree.”

“Thank you.” She ran her fingers through her hair. It was silky soft and tangle free.

“Why don’t you get a book, sit and read while we wait for Mrs. Cook to bring high tea?”

She glanced at the shelves.

“What is it?” he asked, paintbrush hovering in the air.

“I can’t read.”

“Ah, of course, you told me that.” He set down his brush. “Forgive my forgetfulness.”

She clasped her hands together.

“But I have an idea.”

“What?”

“Come here, sit.” He pulled out the chair at his desk.

She did as he’d asked.

“Now you’ll need this.” He reached for a quill then pulled the lid off a pot of blue ink. “And this.” He spread a sheet of white paper in front of her.

“What will I need that for?”

“You’ll see.” He stepped up to a shelf, scratched his head for a moment then plucked out a book. “This is the one.”

He set it in front of her. The cover and binds were leather and it was thick and heavy. A layer of dust sat on the top.

He blew it, the dust fluttering in the air then floating over the opposite side of the table.

“What you’re going to do,” he said, “is copy out the alphabet.”

“The alpha...?”

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