Page 124 of Last Duke Standing

“She opened the letter,” she said, mimicking it, “and read the letter, and she folded it and put it in her pocket. And then she said, ‘Please tell the marquess that the name he seeks is Graeme Ross.’”

“GraemeRoss!”

William hadn’t heard his sister come out onto the drive, but here she came, her gown billowing out behind her, one of his nephews running after.

“Do you know him, then, Susan?”

“Aye, Will! You know him, too. He has the farm down by the river, remember? We used to buy apples there when we were young.”

William suddenly remembered it. A modest farm, a good farm.

“He’s a good man, a hardworking man, aye?” Susan said. “But I’d wager no’ good enough for Mr. Simpson, is he? He wants Althea to marry above their lot, always has. He was forever sending the poor lass off to soirees and country house parties where she didna know a soul.”

Molly was staring wide-eyed at Susan, listening to this. William thought it better if they continued the conversation privately. “Thank you, lass. You may go.” He waited until Molly had hurried on, then motioned for Lady Aleksander and his sister to follow him inside.

They retreated to the dining room, where the duke and duchess were enjoying a leisurely luncheon—they’d been at it for two hours.

“Well?” his father demanded. “Did the silly lass return to us?”

“Aye. She brought us a name—Graeme Ross. And Miss Simpson has been delivered of a lad.”

“Ah, Ross! Good man, honest man. Hardworking, just like his old pa. Aye, he’ll be a good father, I’d wager. Happy to have a son, I’d say. He’ll do right by Miss Simpson, that he will.”

Just then, they heard the sound of voices at the door. A moment later the butler entered the dining room, and Ewan was behind him. The big man looked disheveled. He looked as if—and this was hard to fathom—he had run from the village.

“Ewan! Has something happened?” William exclaimed. “Are you all right?”

“Aye, milord. Been quite the dust up in the village, that it has.”

“Oh no,” Lady Aleksander said. “What happened?”

Ewan held up a finger and put his hand to the small of his back, wincing dramatically as he drew a breath. Everyone in the room waited, watching him closely.

“Mr. Bartholomew,” he said. “Now, that’s an actor for you, aye? Had me convinced.”

“Ewan, whathappened?” Susan demanded.

“He said...” Ewan paused to draw another breath.

The rest of them leaned forward a bit more.

“That he’d come to claim his woman and his bairn, that sort of thing. Better than he said it on the train, I’ll give him that.”

“And?” William asked, trying to hurry him along.

“Well... Mr. Simpson’s brother was present, having a pint, he was. Might have had more than the one, if you want me honest opinion. Or perhaps he’s got a bad back, I donna know, but he was doing a bit of swaying on his feet.”

“Aye, Ewan,and?”

“He said the bloke was a fraud, milord. Then, the McFee brothers—you’ve seen them, have you no’? About the size of the cairns on old Bessie’s land, the two of them—well, they meant to toss him out. But then Mrs. Palley asked them all why the bloke would say it if it weren’t true, for it was surely trouble, and should they no’ ask the lass if what he said was true?”

“Oh dear,” William’s mother said. “This doesn’t sound good, does it? Does anyone think this sounds good?”

“Aye, Your Grace, there did indeed follow quite the heated debate, it did.” Ewan paused to wipe his brow.

William thought he might explode before Ewan ever got around to the reason he’d raced back here.“Ewan!”

“Aye, milord. It was decided then and there that the only way to solve it was to call Mr. Simpson to the public house.”

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