Page 28 of How to Capture a Duke

Tristan pushed back his chair and was halfway to the door before she could move. “Allow me.”

He took a breath of relief as soon as he stepped into the hall. Even though things had gone more smoothly than he’d anticipated—mostly due to his wife’s unexpected aid—he was glad to have an excuse to leave.

It was clear Olivia came from a loving family. Aside from her sister, they all seemed convinced she’d married for love, would have settled for nothing less.

His housekeeper rounded the corner, her hands full of clean, folded linens. “Mrs. Ludson, have you seen a child?”

Her brows creased. “A child? No, Your Grace. Shall I have the servants search?”

He waved his hand and continued with the search himself. He’d been raised in Keswick Hall until his mother had shipped him off to boarding school. He was familiar with every room in the mansion. Where had he hidden as a boy when he’d seen the disapproval stamped on his mother’s face, having embarrassed her in front of her friends?

He opened a door and glanced inside the music conservatory. The room was empty save for a pianoforte and music stands.

A coal brazier burned low in the library, but the room was abandoned.

He didn’t bother to look into the nursery. Sheets covered the old cradle, and the door had remained closed since the day he’d ascended to the title. The cheery wallpaper had been removed and the room painted a pale white.

A flash of red hair caught his eye as he glimpsed into his study. He found the child spinning the globe on an end table by his desk.

“It b…b-elonged to my father. I used to spin it round and round as a child,” he said.

A pair of olive-dark eyes met his. “Are you going to make me go back?”

“No.”

“Good. It’s boring.”

“Truth is I’d r…r-ather stay here with you.”

She studied him curiously. “You talk funny.”

“Sometimes.”

“I don’t like grown-up talk.”

“I don’t, either.” The truth.

She looked about the room. “You need toys.”

“You haven’t spotted it yet?”

Her small, pink lips formed a perfect O. “A game of seek? I like that game.” Chubby fingers ran the edges of his desk as she searched.

“Not close,” he said.

She hitched up her skirts and looked under the two leather chairs before his desk.

“Still not close.”

She wrinkled her small nose. Round the room she searched while he gave her clues.

“Close.”

“Not close.”

“Close again.”

“Where? I want a hint.”