Page 121 of The Duke's Counterfeit Wife

But the other man shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. “I’ve only my younger sister left, really, and she has a good position. Likely doesn’t need me in her life.”

“Christ, man,” muttered Griffin.

The Duke cleared his throat. “Terribly sorry to interrupt what looks like a perfectly hostile reunion, but could someone tell me what is going on?”

Ian, who’d arrived out of breath a few moments before, now stepped up beside Duncan’s chair. “Your Grace,” he began stiffly, the formality sounding out of sorts. “I beg to report that Mr. Totwafel has requested a leave of absence. Before he departs for Canada, however, he apparently has something very important to discuss with you. In your study.”

“What? What?” The Duke scowled, his head swiveling about as he tried to take in each player. “Why would I do that? He can wait until tomorrow.”

“No, Your Grace, I’m afraid I can’t.”

And with that, Totwafel pulled his hand from his jacket, revealing a revolver. He didn’t point it at anyone, but the threat was clear.

Felicity watched Griffin bend his knees and rock forward on the balls of his feet. He looked like a big cat, waiting to spring.

“Totwafel!” Duncan exploded. “What is this all about, man?”

“I apologize for the urgency, but I’ve had a missive from my boss, with explicit instructions.”

The Duke growled, “I thought I was yer boss?”

Ian, meanwhile, was inching toward Totwafel. “So did I,” he muttered.

The orange-haired man didn’t appreciate the movement. He swung the revolver up and around, pointing it at Ian’s chest. “That’s far enough, old man.”

Ian sucked in a breath and froze.

Totwafel nodded. “Now, Your Grace, I have my instructions. I need you to return to your study with me. I’ve taken the liberty of making out the new documents, and I just need your signature on them.”

“Documents? What documents?”

Felicity couldn’t decide if the Duke looked more angry or confused.

“He wants ye to declare an heir today.”

Since the gun hadn’t wavered from Ian’s chest, she thought perhaps Griffin’s answer was intended to draw Totwafel’s attention. It worked, but she couldn’t hide the little whimper of fear she made as the revolver swung toward Griffin. It was echoed by the children behind her, and she slowly spread her arms, trying to hold them in place by will alone.

But Duncan was shaking his head. “Totwafel, dinnae be preposterous! I cannae make ye my heir! We’re no’ related! This scheme is already complicated and outlandish enough!”

Griffin’s eyes hadn’t left Totwafel’s. “He doesnae want ye to make him yer heir, Duncan. He wants ye to make William Stoughton yer heir, aye?” When Totwafel didn’t reply, Griffin’s gaze flicked to the Duke, then back again. “And I suspect the documents have been dated several weeks ago, so when he kills ye and makes it look like an accident, nae one will question their truth.”

As Duncan gaped, Ian scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. We had a new will made only a few months ago. No one would believe that was accurate.”

“I suspect,” Griffin said in a deceptively calm voice, “a large sum of money could make all questions go away. After all, everyone kens the Duke of Peasgoode’s mad scheme to find an heir is a little preposterous already.”

Duncan harumphed. “He’s right, Ian.”

Totwafel hadn’t spoken, but the gun wavered between Griffin and Ian, pointing alternately at their chests.

When Griffin continued to goad him, Felicity winced. “The question is, Wilson, where is Blackrose going to get a large sum of money? I’ve heard he had to flee Britain with verra little.”

Now the orange-haired man snorted. “Once he’s a duke, he’ll have unlimited money and power. Three years ago, he ordered me to find him a title—any title. His brother is an earl, but he had no interest in killing the man. But since his unfortunate sojourn in Canada, it’s become even more important that I find him a title. And a duke is second only to a Prince.”

Ian was glancing from one to the other. “Is this spy business? I knew you were a spy, Griffin, no matter your protests!”

Griffin ignored him. “When, exactly, did ye start working for Peasgoode?”

Totwafel smiled evilly. “Three years ago, when Blackrose started disbanding his agents.” Felicity sucked in a breath, knowing he was referring to the way Blackrose had started turning his men on one another, allowing them to kill off each other. “Right about the time, now that I think of it, that your wife tragically passed away.”

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