Page 56 of The Duke's Counterfeit Wife

Shite. Time to intervene. “Felicity Montrose Calderbank,” he barked. “Made has been with her since before we were married.”

In other words, three days ago.

The older man nodded weakly. “Made is the maid. Logical, in a way. And the last ticket is for…” His brows drew in. “Mrs. Mac?”

“That’s me!” Mrs. Mac announced cheerfully as she popped up beside the surprised secretary. “Thanks very much for handling this, eh?”

“You are Mrs. Mac? MacSquash?”

Griffin corrected, “MacDoodle.”

His housekeeper winked. “You can call me McLovin, handsome, eh?”

When she began to cackle, Ian coughed, then cleared his throat. “I—you are the neighbor, madam?”

“Eh?”

“The neighbor. Who lives next door and young Rupert visits? You taught Marcia how to treat stained tablecloths?”

“Eh? Oh, yes, that’s me. Is your throat paining you? I have a lozenge here.”

With that, Mrs. Mac’s arm disappeared up to her elbow in the pocket of her apron.

The secretary waved away the offer, then cleared his throat again. “I’m just wondering why we’re bringing the next-door neighbor with us to the Highlands—”

“Here it is!” Mrs. Mac brandished a small bag of sweets. “If you don’t care for this brand, I have others, eh?”

Ian glanced down at her apron, then in a sort of daze, took the bag of pastilles. “Thank you.” He cleared his throat yet again. “And you’ll be coming with us?”

Griffin discovered he was having fun. “Och, Mrs. Mac comes everywhere with us.”

“Even to the shore?” Ian shuddered.

“Of course!” Mrs. Mac beamed. “I never miss a chance to show off my bathing costume. I have it here, eh?” She delved back into the apron.

Ian paled, shoved the bag of lozenges into his own pocket, and stumbled away. “I’ll go—I’d better check the-the horses.”

“There goes a fine figure of a man, eh?” Mrs. Mac chuckled as she watched him scurry off. “Even if he doesn’t know a thing about horses.”

“I think ye scared him, Mrs. Mac.”

She sighed, and a flask emerged from her apron pocket. “I do that to men. Tea?”

“Nay, thank you.” His hurried breakfast hadn’t sat well with him.

Shrugging, she pulled a teacup from the pocket. “More for me, eh?” she cheerfully announced as she poured herself some. “Now, what’s all this about me being a next-door neighbor?”

“Ye ken…” Griffin was watching Felicity herd the children out the door. “I really have nae idea.”

“You know my name’s MacDougal, not MacDoodle, eh?”

He glanced at his housekeeper. “Really? Are you sure? I thought it was Doodle, all these years?”

She sipped her tea. “Now that you mention it, no, I’m not sure. Heh, I guess Mrs. Mac suits me better. I suppose we’d best hustle, eh?”

The chaos had continued outside. Griffin leaned a hip against the front stoop’s railing, and watched the woman he was supposed to be married to wrangle everyone into their places.

“Bull, take the first coach with Rupert. Rupert, did you R-E-L-E-I-V-E yourself before we left? I do not want to stop on the way.”

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