Page 91 of The Duke's Pet

Tom poked his tongue out as he concentrated, then threw the stone with a side flick of his wrist. It hopped over the lake five times before disappearing beneath the surface of the water.

“You have got the hang of it.”

“I’ve been practicing since you showed me.” Tom grinned.

“Watch me too.” Jack copied his brother and had the same success.

“You can also do it, well done,” the duke chuckled.

Everything his sons learned and discovered pleased him. He’d once described them as little sponges, soaking up knowledge from the world around them.

“But come on now, we are going to the grotto, remember.”

They continued on their way. The twins racing along, using up their energy and exclaiming at everything they saw.

When the grotto came into view, Jemima smiled to herself. She remembered her first trip here, when she’d been on what she’d thought at the time just a weeklong visit to Hillcrest. Even now she still had to pinch herself on occasion to check it wasn’t a dream.

Being married to the duke was everything she could want and more. He cared for her, helped her achieve and he made sure she stayed in line, never straying from how she should behave and speak to him. He was the perfect husband.

They didn’t go off the estate very often; they had no need to. But they did have more staff now. Mrs. Cook no longer had to struggle to do everything, in fact she seemed content to spend all her time between the vegetable garden and the kitchen, letting the two younger maids she’d trained up—with great dedication—serve the meals and do the cleaning duties. James also had another man to help him on the estate and the lake was looking better for having some attention as were some of the trees whose branches had been hanging precariously and waiting for a strong gust to break them.

They came to the steps to the grotto.

“Shall I wait here with Nancy?” Penelope asked.

“Yes, thank you.” The duke nodded at the nanny then reached beneath the pram for his small leather case. He took Jemima’s hand. “Do you have the paintings?”

“Yes.” She took her embroidered bag from Penelope.

“Come on.” Jack was at the top of the steps.

His brother was opening the door.

“We’re coming,” the duke called. “Try and have a little patience, son.”

The grotto had been treated to an overhaul and was now light and airy. The walls were painted a soft moss green and the repaired floor kept swept. The far windows let in more light now the trees had been clipped back and the panes of glass were clean.

The walls were full of the duke’s paintings and some of Jemima’s. She’d continued to draw in ink and become very skilled at it.

“Where’s mine going?” Jack asked, placing his little hands on his hips the way his father did.

“Here.” The duke nodded at three new hooks on the wall. “Are you happy with that?”

“Yes.” Jack grinned as Jemima passed him the picture of a rose he’d carefully painted. It was framed and he examined the glass before hanging it on the wall.

“Excellent and a great addition to the collection.” The duke ruffled his hair. “Tom, do you have yours?”

“Yes.” He took it from Jemima.

She looked in the bag. She’d planned on picking up her painting too. A detailed, labeled image of a ragwort but she’d obviously forgotten it in her haste to get three children organized too.

“I think that is a most excellent picture of a blackbird, Tom.” The duke ruffled his hair too. “And it stands out from the crowd.”

“Thank you, Father.”

“Do you have yours?” The duke turned to Jemima.

“No.”

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