Page 85 of Irresistible
“I expected to.” Lucien nodded toward Max while speaking to Dougal. “Look after him, will you?”
“Yes, I need minding,” Max murmured drily.
Ada’s eyes shone with love as she kissed her husband’s cheek. “See you in a bit.”
She and Lucien departed the library.
Max glanced at Dougal’s glass. “Scottish whisky, I presume?”
“Certainly not that Irish swill.”
“Precisely what I’m going to pour.” Max went to fill himself a glass, then they moved to stand in front of the windows. He took a sip and smiled. “Definitely not swill.” He studied Dougal for a moment. “How can you be well after losing Alistair?”
“It’s been two months.”
“Bah. I lost Alec years ago now, and it still hurts.” Max’s gaze was sympathetic as he drank from his tumbler. “At least you still have your father.” He couldn’t have known those words would slice into Dougal like a well-sharpened blade.
“For now.” Dougal felt suddenly bitter and angry. It wasn’t fair. His father was still a young man. He should have years ahead of him. What the hell was Dougal still doing in London? He should be halfway to Scotland by now—to be with his father. “He’s dying.”
Max blanched, his face stricken. “No.”
“So the physician says. His heart is weakened.”
“How long do you have together?” Max asked softly, anguish evident in his tone.
Dougal hated rousing Max’s grief at losing his own father and brother, but couldn’t deny the shared experience was most welcome as he struggled to come to terms with his own loss. “That is unclear. It could be months, but it could also be a year or more.”
“I will pray for the latter,” Max said.
“Thank you. I’m sorry this dredges up your grief.”
The corner of Max’s mouth edged up. “I don’t have to dig too deeply to find it. Ada has made it more bearable, however. She reminds me every day that there is still love and happiness in the world.”
Dougal knew his perspective wasn’t as dark and hopeless as Max’s was—or had been. He’d suffered terribly during the war. He did seem to have found some serenity at last. Dougal briefly clasped his old friend’s shoulder. “I couldn’t be more thrilled for you, Max.”
“It’s certainly an improvement.” He lifted his glass in silent toast, and they both drank.
Swallowing, Dougal decided to seek his friend’s advice. “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but how did you adjust to inheriting the title when you never expected to? I find I can’t reconcile what I must do with what I thought I would be doing. It’s…overwhelming.”
“That’s one word for it. You recall that Lucien sent my wife to help right my estate because my accounting and ledgers were in tatters? I drove my steward away with my beastliness, and I didn’t care that the estate needed him. I sat and did nothing while my tenants struggled to manage without support. It wasn’t just overwhelming, it wasimpossible. I simply couldn’t do a damned thing. I daresay you aren’t that bad off.”
“Not in that way, but I haven’t the slightest notion how to manage an estate or to be an earl.”
“I didn’t either, but I’m learning. You will too. At least you don’t have to serve in the Lords like I do.”
“Not unless the Scottish Parliament elects me to do that someday.” Dougal hadn’t considered that. For the first time, he thought he might be useful as the Earl of Stirling. “I don’t think I’d mind that, actually.”
“You wouldn’t,” Max said good-naturedly. “But then you’ve been involved in the Foreign Office for years now, haven’t you?”
Max knew that Dougal had left the Black Watch to complete an assignment for them, but he hadn’t known it was permanent. “Why do you think that?” Dougal asked.
“I may have had my nose buried at Stonehill these past two years, but I’m not stupid. Lucien kept me abreast of your travels. I didn’t for a moment think you were gadding about the kingdom to see the sights. I also know how bloody clever you are. There was no way the government was going to let you go after one task.”
Dougal neither confirmed nor denied his friend’s accurate conclusion. “I can see how that would look.”
Max snorted. After taking another drink, his brow furrowed. “You can’t do that work anymore. I imagine that troubles you.”
“It makes me angry, actually. I enjoyed it. I’d hoped to move up in the ranks.”
