My One and Only Duke_Includes a bonus novella by Grace Burrowes

Author:Grace Burrowes [Burrowes, Grace]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781538728956
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2018-11-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

“I saw the Minster in York,” Ned announced. “It’s ever so beautiful, with heaven-windows and echoes and no poor people. Himself said the Minster were there even when the Vikings ran the town.”

Quinn let the child prattle on, because Ned’s chattering provided a moment to study Jane. She was still at the Wentworth town house, which Quinn had not assumed would be the case.

She wore a claret-colored dress high enough at the waist to hide her condition, and her color was good. She’d kissed Quinn’s cheek upon greeting him, but her mood had yet to make itself apparent.

Which suggested something other than jubilation at his return.

Quinn was furious, with himself, with anybody named Pike, with the Great North Road, and with God Almighty. For the Countess of Tipton he reserved a special brand of ire that nearly equaled the hatred he’d felt toward his father.

“You were very kind to take Ned to see the Minster,” Jane said. “Someday I’d like to see it.”

“He didn’t take me,” Ned said, scuffing the toe of one boot with the other. “Mrs. Dougherty took me, and told me all about when himself were in service. He were a footman and a jolly good one. She were the housekeeper, and Miss Camellia were a maid.”

“Ned, take yourself to the kitchen,” Quinn said, as Jane peeled the greatcoat from his shoulders. “Regale the staff with your adventures, but for the love of God leave me in peace.”

“Mrs. D said you were a footman to an earl’s house, and nobody ever looked so fine in his livery as you did before you got old.”

Where were the Vikings when a small boy needed carrying off? “The kitchen, Ned, and you will take a bath tonight.”

“Tim takes baths, claims a young gent shouldn’t smell like a shoat,” Ned said, plucking an orange from the bowl on the sideboard. “Knows his letters, Tim does, and he’s younger than me. Mrs. Dougherty is Tim’s granny and she said nobody ever learned his letters faster than Quinn Wentworth, and it’s a pity and a shame that—”

Quinn hauled the child up by the elbows and held him at eye level, the boy’s feet dangling. “I desire privacy with my wife. Get ye gone.”

“I’m gone,” Ned said, tossing the orange in the air and catching it. “Ned Gone, that’s me.”

Jane stood holding Quinn’s greatcoat, her expression puzzled. “The housekeeper taught you to read?”

“And write.” Thank God. “Shall we go upstairs?” Where Quinn would not take a bath until he’d found a way to do so in solitude.

Jane hung the coat on a hook and joined him on the stairs. “Duncan had the miniature of my mother copied. The likeness is lovely.”

“Has the reverend realized it’s missing?”

“I had the original returned to him, and he’s not paid another call.” They reached the top of the steps, and Jane sent Quinn a measuring glance. She was doubtless gauging whether to inform him of some domestic disaster. Kristoff serving breakfast with gin on his breath, Constance

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