The Hollingberrys were all high society could ask for, and Thornsby was certain that if there were any women suited to be his duchess, they would be in attendance. All his latest forays into society had left him with no candidates. Perhaps this evening would be different. He dressed with his valet’s help while Jonah sat on a chair in the corner of his dressing rooms. The boy followed him around as if attached to him by the ribbons from his coach.“I liked Miss Sheldon, Your Grace,” Jonah said, followed by a sniffle and shuffling in the huge armchair.The valet was about to correct Jonah for speaking when not being spoken to. Thornsby knew the man was vastly insulted the five-year-old had free roam of his domain.“And why’s that, Jonah?” Thornsby said. Crumbsby glared and returned his attention to insuring not one speck of lint mar his employer’s black jacket.“She reminds me of my mum, sir, with her bucket and rags,” Jonah said.Thornsby couldn’t have agreed more. Matilda Sheldon looked like a servant when he saw her that day at her orphanage.
