How to Catch a Duke (Rogues to Riches #6) - Grace Burrowes Page 0,58
on all manner of weapons design questions. I am tinkering with steam power for naval vessels, and I am fascinated with locomotives. Steam could be used for everything from sending packets back and forth to Calais—no more waiting on the tide and wind—to reducing the manual labor involved in purse seining. I’m also fiddling with a lift that can be built on to the outside of an existing building, rather than requiring internal renovations.”
The small of Abigail’s back began to protest her position, so she pulled the pillow from beneath her hips and shifted to her side, taking Stephen’s hand in her own.
“Do you support any charities?”
“A dozen or so, mostly to do with returning soldiers, or families whose soldiers did not return. Many of the veterans need medical attention, and I’m not a doctor. I can hire doctors, though, and order them about and build surgeries and clinics for them. The Scots are the closest we have to competent medical practitioners in Britain, so I tend to employ them if I can.”
Abigail tucked closer. “What of children? Are you active in children’s charities?”
“I run two orphanages for the offspring of soldiers. They want more attention than I can give them, but the children seem happy and well cared for. I pop in unannounced whenever I’m in London, and have my eyes and ears among the urchins.”
Abigail would love to pop in with him and see him consorting with his little spies. “You are no sort of fribble whatsoever.”
“I’m a ducal heir. We apparently have a reputation to uphold as decorative bon vivants. You never did tell me if you’re hungry.”
Abigail was hungry. Starving for the company of a man who chatted in bed, took his time with lovemaking, and quietly supported more charities than any five dukes combined.
“I am a bit peckish,” she said, mostly because Stephen had to be famished. “I would not want to put the staff to any trouble.”
“It’s half day,” he said, sitting up, “and my employees are well compensated for tolerating my eccentricities regarding mealtimes. I also look in on the kitchen unannounced.”
“Eccentric, indeed.”
And so dear. Stephen was the most attentive lady’s maid Abigail had ever encountered, using his pocket comb to tidy her hair and making short work of her ribbons, hooks, and laces. He required no assistance dressing, having developed methods of donning his clothing that let him either sit or use one hand while balancing on sturdy furniture.
All too soon, he was again the natty gent, and Abigail was a lady attired for an outing to the shops. When she would have left the study for the kitchen, Stephen stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“A hug for courage,” he said, drawing her close. “And for gratitude. Thank you, Abigail. I will dream of this interlude when I’m a curmudgeonly old relic, and the memory will make my heart that of a young and happy man.”
She hugged him back, hard, and blinked away foolish tears. All too many of her encounters with Champlain had ended with a quick kiss and him telling her to “tidy up and take care.” He’d disappear for days or weeks, then show up again, all smiles, ready for another quick trip to the nearest hayloft.
And she, being young, stupid, and desperate for a man’s notice, had gone with him willingly.
“Food for the soul having been attended to,” Stephen said, stepping back and taking her hand, “let’s find some food for the body. One doesn’t attempt a mercantile sortie on an empty belly.”
He knew his way around the kitchen, and waved off the single scullery maid on duty. He directed her to take her work into the garden, and she seemed happy enough to gather up her bowl of peas and go.
“That one,” he said, “was plying the horizontal trade until six months ago. You never saw a woman happier to peel potatoes. Ham or beef on your sandwich?”
“Neither. Cheese and butter will do. Do you prefer cider or ale, or should we make a pot of tea?”
“Cider this time of year is a good choice. Were your people the sort to boycott sugar?”
“Absolutely, and I still buy sugar sparingly and only from Indian sources.”
Stephen was at home in this kitchen, knew where the knives and bread loaves were, handled the cheese parer competently, and managed to move about with a cane in one hand and plate in the other.
He brought a tray stacked high with sandwiches to the plank table in the center of the