Page 29 of How to Capture a Duke

“Up.”

She tugged the leather chair up to the shelf, stood on it, and scanned the shelf. “I see it!” Reaching up, she removed her prize—a small wooden train with tiny wheels that spun.

Tristan helped her down. She weighed as little as thistledown. He set her on her feet and handed her the train.

She placed the toy on his desk and rolled the wooden wheels across the surface. “I play with dolls, but I like this, too.”

His mother had given it to him when he’d been about her age. It was the only gift he’d kept. He’d placed it on his study shelf and would look at it at times. It was a reminder of when the former duchess had still loved her young son, before she’d look upon him with disgust as he’d stumbled over his words. Expensive tutors had been obtained, many of them harsh and strict, but none had helped. His stutter had increased as he grew older. The duchess had grown as cold and cruel as his instructors.

Tristan placed the train in her hands. “My mother gave it to me when I was five, but you can keep it.”

“You’re giving it to me?”

He nodded.

“Are you going to make me go back to the dining room?”

He shook his head. “No, I meant what I said. I’ll send a servant to tell them you are fine and with me.”

“I like you, duke.”

“Tristan.”

“I like you, Tristan. I’m glad you married my aunt Olivia. She’s always nice. Are you glad you married her?”

How to answer? He didn’t want to host a blasted dinner, but Olivia had eased his concerns this evening.

“Catherine!”

Startled, the little girl whirled to find her mother in the doorway. Behind her stood Olivia and her sister, Ellie. All three women stared. How long had they been there? How much had they overheard?

“Please, do not be h…h-arsh with her,” Tristan said.

“Oh, Mama! Look what Tristan gave me.” Elizabeth ran to her mother as she held up the wooden train.

“Catherine,” her mother said, her tone stern. “He is to be called His Grace.”

“But he told me to call him Tristan.”

“I did,” Tristan agreed.

“His mama gave him the train when he was a boy my age,” Catherine said.

“If his mother gave it to him, I do not think you should take it, Catherine,” Lady Castleton said.

“It’s hers,” Tristan said.

The child ran back to him and embraced him. “Thank you, duke. I promise to visit again.”

She smelled like lemon and sunshine. His arms reached around her slight body and hugged her back. Then she returned to her mother’s side and waved at him.

The mother apologized then took her daughter by the hand and headed back to the dining room. Olivia remained behind.

“Thank you,” she said.

“There’s no need to thank me.”

“Catherine likes you.”