Page 42 of The Texan Duke
The housekeeper’s brown eyes were alight with amusement.
“Can you imagine? But he’s going to try to find the ingredients to—as he said—stir up a batch to see if it would work.”
“That’s very kind of him.”
And exceedingly strange. However, Elsbeth had the feeling that she would be thinking that often, or as long as the duke remained in Scotland.
They sat in silence for a moment, Elsbeth remembering the look on Connor’s face as he gazed at the portraits.
“The duke didn’t know that Gavin and Graham were twins,” she said. “Evidently, his father never told him.”
Mrs. Ferguson stuck her gloved hands beneath the blanket on her lap. Her hands pained her the worst in the winter months.
“Has he any siblings?”
Elsbeth nodded. “Five sisters,” she said, wishing she could remember their names.
“The McCraights always have produced more girls than boys. Has he any children of his own?”
“He isn’t married,” Elsbeth said. “Nor did he mention planning on marrying.”
She told the housekeeper about the Texas saddle, Connor’s comments about his cattle, and his insistence that she call him by his first name.
“What does Her Grace say?” Mrs. Ferguson asked, her eyes twinkling.
They both knew that the duchess was a stickler for propriety, forever lecturing Elsbeth on one thing or another. It was as if the woman, having agreed to take Elsbeth in when she was eight, thought she was a foundling, someone who’d never been reared with any kind of rules or proper manners.
Over the years Elsbeth had developed a way of half listening to Rhona at the same time she appeared to be intent on the duchess’s criticism. It was the only way she could tolerate the other woman’s constant efforts to change her. Nothing she ever did was proper enough. That was made abundantly clear only a few years after moving to Bealadair.
Thank heavens for Gavin. If she never felt a mother’s love from the duchess, at least she had a father figure.
From what Connor said, he had the same respect for his father.
Would she feel betrayed if she discovered Gavin had hid information from her? Perhaps she would have. Or would she have just been curious as to the reason why?
“She doesn’t know, even though she did look a little surprised when His Grace referred to me by my first name.” She’d been waiting for the duchess to ask her about that, which was just one of the reasons she had escaped to Mrs. Ferguson’s room.
She proceeded to tell the other woman what she’d learned at dinner. The housekeeper looked as stunned as she’d felt about the size of the XIV Ranch. When she came to Felix’s challenge, Mrs. Ferguson shook her head.
“He thinks he’s big, but a wee coat fits him,” the housekeeper said.
Elsbeth nodded.
“Surely they won’t go through with it?”
“I can almost guarantee you that the contest will take place,” Elsbeth said.
There’d been a look in Connor’s eyes, one that warned her he didn’t take well to being challenged by Felix. Not because he was the Duke of Lothian, but because he was Connor McCraight. Or maybe even because he was an American. Or a Texan.
“Felix is quite a good shot,” the housekeeper said.
“He has little to do but improve his marksmanship.”
“Perhaps it would be foolish to wish that he’d let His Grace win.”
Felix had nothing else to brag about; his prowess with weapons was evidently important to him.
Was it as important to Connor?
