A Lady's Dream Come True - Grace Burrowes Page 0,35

to be scolded by the senior-most member of Vera’s staff. Gawping at a lady’s neck with the door wide open was badly done, but then, Oak had never before harbored an attraction to a woman with whom he shared a dwelling.

Greater discretion was in order—much greater.

“Your trunks have arrived in Bathboro, Mr. Dorning,” Bracken said, “as has your horse. I can send a groom with a cart to fetch both.”

I can send, not I have sent. “Would you rather I handle this errand myself?” The day was sunny, the track would be dry and as navigable as cart tracks ever were.

Bracken was not the cheery, affable sort of butler Oak had grown up with at Dorning Hall. Nor was he the dignified, slightly aloof creature guarding the doors of most Mayfair establishments. He was more fierce and didn’t care who remarked that quality.

“I understand that your early afternoons are spoken for,” Bracken said. “Mr. Channing often took Alexander with him for trips into the village.”

Oak was not Mr. Channing, nor did he wish to step into Mr. Channing’s shoes. He did, however, want to get his hands on his supplies as soon as possible.

“Mr. Forester might disapprove of my kidnapping his pupil for such an outing.”

“Mr. Forester will rejoice to have the time free, though he will pretend otherwise.”

Ah, well. At least Oak wasn’t alone in earning Bracken’s disdain. “Mrs. Channing will permit the outing?”

Bracken’s scowl became one degree less thunderous. “I shall inform her that you decided to extend Master Alexander’s first art lesson into two sessions. She will not object.”

She would not be given a chance to object, in other words.

“Then you have my thanks for your suggestion, Bracken. I am eager to retrieve my supplies and my horse, but I would not want to shirk my responsibility to Master Alexander.”

The scowl faded into a mere frown. “Of course not, sir. You will be sure that Master Alexander wears his jacket, of course.”

“Of course. And his cap, at least as far as the bottom of the drive.”

“Very good, sir.” Bracken nodded—he did not bow—and withdrew.

Oak sent word around to the stable to hitch up a stout cart and went to the nursery to collect his charge.

“This is most irregular,” Forester muttered when Oak informed him of his plans. “The boy needs routine if he’s to learn discipline. I can understand a ramble in the garden—landscapes and all that—but Bathboro is hardly worthy of artistic study.”

“Alexander,” Oak said, “please fetch your jacket and cap.”

The boy remained unmoving beside his desk.

Forester waved a hand toward the door. “Do as Mr. Dorning says, boy. And if I hear that you gave Mr. Dorning the slightest trouble, that you so much as gazed longingly at a mud puddle, there will be consequences.”

“Yes, sir.” Alexander scampered for the door with more energy than Oak had seen him display previously.

“Boy!” Forester barked.

Alexander came to an abrupt halt and turned slowly. “Sir?”

“Make your bow, Alexander. You bow before taking leave of other gentlemen.”

Alexander bowed correctly to Oak and to Forester. “May I fetch my jacket now, sir?”

“You may.” As Alexander disappeared into the corridor, Forester heaved up a sigh. “That child has all the scholastic aptitude of a turtle and the memory of a gnat. You do him a disservice by introducing an element of frolic to his day, Dorning.”

Oak wanted to like Jeremy Forester. He and Forester were of an age, of a similar station, both trying to find a way forward in life and not particularly succeeding. But Alexander did not like Forester, and most children were good judges of character.

“Do I tell you how to teach Master Alexander his sums?” Oak asked.

“Any fool can teach sums, Dorning. One plunks an abacus down before the pupil, moves some beads around, drills the basic concept, and it’s taught. What’s your point?”

“Are you an artist?”

“God spare me from such a fate.”

“I am an artist, and I well know how to teach my craft. If Master Alexander is to develop artistic skill, he must learn to see his world with fresh eyes, to notice, to visually analyze what others see but ignore. The best way to teach that lesson is to put him in situations where he is keenly interested in novel surroundings. When he has exercised his powers of attention naturally, I can use that experience to encourage him to the same end for artistic purposes.”

I am an artist. Oak had never said those words before, not as a bald statement of fact. I enjoy