Page 16 of My Blind Duke
“Let him in,” William reluctantly instructed, wholly prepared to dismiss any foolishness that might want to take place at that moment.
There were more sounds of footsteps, one a tad hesitant than the other and it made William sigh in irritation.
“What is it?” he barked.
Jefferson squeaked, and it was all William could do to roll his eyes.
He did not like the butler one bit, immediately displeased with his irresponsibility – not just toward the estate, but also toward the duchess.
Even if all the other staff members had chosen to behave so childishly, the butler of all people should have stood as the voice of reason and reminded them of their place. Instead, he went along with whatever he felt like and grew far too comfortable being complacent.
As such, he had not even received the duke when he first arrived at the estate. William could forgive several offenses, but Jefferson seemed to have far too many to be dismissed.
“The… The Marquess of Montclair has arrived to see you, Your Grace.” The butler swallowed hard before taking a deep breath.
The Marquess of Montclair? Wiliam took a moment to rake through his mind to see if he could recall ever meeting or even hearing of such a person, only to come up empty.
Eventually, his curiosity to find out who it was won out and he nodded to the butler to let the man in.
As Jefferson went to retrieve the guest, William composed himself and lifted his head high. It was always a daunting task meeting anyone new. He did not have the luxury of sizing a man up on sight alone like he did in the past.
“Your Grace, I apologize for the intrusion. I would have sent a note announcing my intention to visit, but I thought it better to come unannounced, given the circumstances,” The Marquess of Montclair sounded confident as his voice drew nearer the desk.
“The circumstances?” William echoed, narrowing his eyes slightly to focus as the man’s form came into view in front of the desk.
He could tell that the man was at least a head shorter than William, yet his voice was deep and strong.
“I am Hugo Rath, Marquess of Montclair. I was a friend to the late Duke of Pemberly – rest his soul.”
William noticed the man extended an arm and reached out with his right hand, trying not to flinch when he nearly missed.
“William Wordsworth, the new Duke of Pemberly.” William shook the man’s hand firmly, noting the mop of light brown hair through the haze of his vision. “You mentioned something about the circumstances? What did you mean?”
The marquess retracted his hand before speaking up again, his voice slightly hushed this time. “I was hoping that we could have a word in private?”
William thought the request a bit peculiar but decided to humor the man as they had only just met. Nodding for the others to leave, he gestured for the man to take a seat.
“I would like to apologize, once more. I am well aware that it does not look good for one to be presumptuous and you are wondering why I have barged in like this, Your Grace. I can assure you that I am no meddler, nor am I a peddler of gossip. What I have to tell you will be of vital importance to you.”
“Go on…” William sat back in his chair, trying to gauge what this could be about by the severity of the man’s tone.
William had learned how to decipher fact from fiction after the loss of his vision a while ago. He had come to learn that his weakness gave many the impression that they could fool him easily. Which was why he did not attempt to share that information if he could help it.
Whatever it was that had this man believe it was important enough to warrant an in-person meeting, he certainly believed it. So perhaps it was worth listening to.
“I did mention that I was a friend of the former duke. What I did not wish to mention in front of your staff is that I am also aware of how he died…” The man’s voice seemed to thicken, and a hint of anger mingled with the syllables.
“Was it not a weak heart? At least this is what the solicitor told me when I received the news of my new position,” William admitted almost begrudgingly, irritated as to why someone claiming to be aware of the true nature of the former duke’s death would not have sorted such an issue out in the year that followed his passing.
He had not wanted to be a duke. His parents had always been proud of the fact that their distant relation was the Duke of Pemberly, but William had never particularly cared for it. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that the title would ever pass to him.
Now that he had the title though, he was determined to make the most of it. At least for Melanie’s sake. All this stirring of sand that had long since settled was not worth his time or strength.
Leaning forward in his chair, the marquess lowered his voice. “Did the solicitor happen to mention where he was found?”
William reached the end of his rope at yet another lure into coaxing an answer from the marquess and snapped.
“I suspect that there is something that you wish to tell me. I must inform you that I am not a patient man. You had better get to thepoint,” William growled, having never taken a liking to theatrics or gossip.
