“Why would I want to do that when there’s a perfectly gorgeous park just blocks from here?” Charles replied.
“Because you can do that alone. You don’t need me to look after you.”
Grinning, Charles stood up, water dripping from his lean, muscular body. “I will this once. I need to see if Arthur would like me to go over the books in regard to my upkeep while living on Lord Denton’s estate.”
After changing, Charles was drawn to a knock on the door. He was about to answer it when Frazier appeared out of nowhere and took care of matters. Opening the door, the butler stood.
“I hate to disturb you, milord, but the duchess wanted to invite you to tea.”
“Tell Her Grace I’d love tea and I’ll be there momentarily.”
“My lord.” With that, the butler disappeared with the shutting of a door.
“Now you don’t need to take a walk in the gardens,” Frazier quipped.
“At least not now. I need my jacket, Frazier. Then I’ll see what tea is all about.”
The valet shook his head. He knew Charles always questioned being included in anything. People, he thought, wanted something. It made Charles leery of everyone. Frazier helped him with his jacket and watched as Charles fussed with minute details.
“Do you need me to help you find your way?”
“No, I’ll figure it out on my own,” he replied as he opened the door and looked back, as though he thought he might have forgotten something. Satisfied, he walked through the door. He had an eidetic memory and finding his way to the drawing room was easy. He never got lost, no matter where he was. The gift, as Frazier referred to it, had saved them on more than one occasion. A good thing, too, because some of the areas they went to were not all that savory.
Portraits of previous dukes and their families lined the walls along with hunting scenes and garden paintings. Nothing seemed to have a purpose as to why it was placed where it was. It was an eclectic mishmash of art. Some of it not very good either. The older portraits needed to be taken down and cleaned by an artist specializing in such things. A lot of people didn’t know of such matters, therefore, their portraits seemed to fade with age when actually it was a buildup of smoke, air, and age. Something to mention to his brother and his Lady Daphne.
Finding the drawing room wasn’t hard. A nearby table with cut flowers sitting in a crystal vase with a footman next to the door gave it away. There again was no reason for the table to be that close to the door. He nodded to the young man who then opened the door to the drawing room.
“Ah, Charles. I take it you had no problem finding me,” Lady Daphne said as she came across the room to greet him. A rather large iron cage stood not too far from the fireplace. Atop the cage sat a huge brightly colored parrot. This must be the one she had been speaking of earlier.
“No, no problems at all.” He eyed the bird, then Daphne. “How did you come to have a parrot?”
“My father. His name is Sam, and he talks a lot for a parrot. I will warn you not all his language is nice. He knows how to curse like a sailor when he wants to.”
“He’s being quiet. Why is that?”
“Perhaps because you are a mirror image to Arthur and he hasn’t figured that out yet.”
“In other words, he may think I’m Arthur?”
Daphne arched a brow and thought for a moment. “That’s entirely possible.”
“Fascinating,” Charles replied.
“Come, tea arrived just before you, and I’ve set it up in front of the hearth. It’s still a little too cool for tea on the terrace.”
Charles nodded. “That sounds delightful.” He diverted his gaze to Sam for a second. The bird was still watching him with great interest.
“If you’re not comfortable with Sam being here, I can have one of the footmen remove him.”
“No, that isn’t necessary,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “I’d actually like to hear him talk.”
“Very well.” She led the way to where the tea service and treats had been placed on a low table next to the chairs they were about to sit in.
Charles looked in amazement at the tiny sandwiches, cake, and sweets set before them. Tea usually consisted of a cup of tea and a large piece of cake or pie. Those were usually left over from Denton’s tea and given to him. Over the years, he’d taught himself to bake pies and cakes.
He accepted the cup of tea from his sister-in-law and placed it on a table next to him. Picking up a plate, he filled it with cake and sandwiches, without realizing how hungry he was.
“I’m sure this all came as a huge shock,” Daphne said, picking up her teacup and observing Charles closely.
