Page 19 of Duke It Out
For fuck’s sake.
“Right,” says Hugh, still rattling on his keyboard. “I’ll send over that report in a sec. We need to finalize the next round of grants by month’s end.”
I hear the crunch of tyres on gravel and look outside to see my fucking brother. Jamie’s tearing down the drive in his convertible, two blondes beside him, a champagne bottle in one hand and his dogs hanging out of the backseat.
“Phoebe’s pushing for a meeting about the Palo Alto school project as well,” Hugh says. “Ideally, we could do with you over there to show face. You know the Americans love a duke; you’re practically royalty to them.”
I snort, shaking my head. “Hardly.” The irony is that when I’m over there I can fly under the radar, live a normal life. Or I could. That’s what got me into this fucking mess in the first place. At least I stuck to my golden rule and didn’t take Edie back to the flat overlooking Central Park. I’ve been burned before by women who’re more interested in my net worth than who I am.
Bartender. I shake my head again, half smiling despite myself.
“We need you over in Inverness for a meeting on Friday. That’s not going to be a problem? Do you want us to come to you?”
“I’ll come over. But I’m going to have to stay put for a couple of months, keep an eye on things from up here.”
“Understandable.” Hugh thinks I’m talking about getting the estate under control. He’s no idea I’m not letting Edie Jones out of my sights while she’s working on my father’s memoir.
“And there’s?—”
I don’t need to hear it. Hugh’s too circumspect to say it outright, but we both know the truth. If we don’t shore up the foundation and get the estate back under control, there won’t be a legacy left. After everything my father squandered, I refuse to be the one who loses it all.
I cut him off midsentence. “I’ll catch up with you tomorrow. I’ve got something on right now.” I hang up before he can argue.
Fuck it.
“Come on, you two.”
My father’s study still holds the faint scent of the pipe he used to smoke – just one of those quirks that either charmed or repelled, depending on your opinion of him. The air inside remains thick and heavy, so it’s a relief to step out into the crisp bite of a late autumn afternoon. Bramble and Tilly dart into the trees, noses to the ground, plumed tails wagging with glee. Spaniels make everything better – and after the day I’ve had, I’m bloody grateful for them.
I wander down toward the loch, feet crunching on the gravel. Tilly barks and I hear the clucking of a pheasant and the flap of wings as it makes an escape. On the other side of the water, the purple shoulders of the hills touch the pink-streaked evening sky. I feel my shoulders drop as I walk. Funny to think how many times before my ancestors must have trodden the same path, letting the beauty of the estate we call home, work its magic. It’s better than any therapy, and right now, it’s just as well I have it because I am royally fucked.
It serves me right for leaving it to Hugh – telling him he could handle the hiring and firing while I tried to get a grip on the million other moving parts of running the estate after my father died. I’d say it was unexpected, but let’s be honest – anyone that pickled in whisky and nicotine was never going to make old bones.
And no, I wasn’t drowning in grief. None of us were. Which, I imagine, would have devastated the egotistical old bastard. But you reap what you sow, and scandal or not, I wasn’t surprised when Finn didn’t show up to the funeral.
To my father, it was all just a game – a roll of the dice, a bluff at the table. The staff, the foundation, even the land itself – just pieces on the board of his grand performance.And now it’s on me to fix the mess he left behind. To make sure his recklessness doesn’t cost the people who actually depend on this place.
The worst thing is I care about it all. I can’t just let it crumble like my father intended to.
Finn washed his hands of all of it, took himself off to the island of Benruar to run his whisky distillery and make his fortune independent of the estate. Jamie, on the other hand, is large as life. If it wasn’t for his charm, I’d kill him with my bare hands. He might be the Highlands’ answer to Daniel Cleaver from the Bridget Jones movies, but I can’t argue with the work he’s doing here rewilding the estate and working with the community.
You need to have some fun, darling, let yourself go. Duty isn’t everything.I can hear Annabel’s crisp tones ringing in my head. I tried that in Manhattan and look where we are now. I’ve got ninety-nine problems, and most of them are wrapped up in a curvy redheaded package that I never thought I’d set eyes on again. That, and what she might uncover when she starts digging through the shitshow that is my father’s study.
I climb over the gate and head down the tree-lined path that leads to the forest.
The first problem is – she shouldn’t be here. And that’s on me for taking my eye off the ball. If I’d been paying attention, I might have taken a closer look at whoever it was Annabel was quietly recommending. One glance at the paperwork, a quick online search, and I’d have put two and two together – nipped it in the bud before we got to this point. But I didn’t.
I try to recall what Hugh said on the phone. I’m fairly sure she’s got a first in English Literature and History, and Annabel’s glowing reference sealed the deal. I can’t even deny she did a solid job on the memoir – what I read was sharp,witty, and well written. And that’s coming from someone who’s very much not the target audience.
That night in New York was a mistake. She doesn’t belong in my world, but for the next few months, she’s in it. I can’t trust her. But I can’t stop thinking about her, and that’s almost worse.
The light has shifted, and the loch stretches out before me, the darkening water shifting under the early evening sky. The air is sharp, a reminder that the season is changing and I need to be ready. This place is mine to protect. Not just the land, the buildings, or the money, but the people who work here, who rely on Loch Morven for their families and their livelihood. The foundation, the estate, the countless jobs tied to the landholdings and the businesses – I don’t have the luxury of making mistakes. It’s my duty to make good everything that’s been screwed up in the past.
Someone has to step up and take on the mantle of Duke of Kinnaird, even if…
Even if the bloodline isn’t as clean as everyone thinks. But that secret stays buried. It has to. I shake my head. There’s no time for doubts right now.
That night in New York the week before he died, I let myself slip, allowed myself the luxury of pretending I wasn’t this. And now she’s here, and I can’t figure out if I’m angrier with myself for taking my eye off the ball or for the way I reacted when she walked into my father’s study this afternoon. I can’t afford distractions, and Edie Jones is nothing if not a distraction.
