Page 84 of Last Duke Standing

Donovan snorted. “If the lass is smart, she’s tidying a room as far from these four as possible.” He closed his book and hopped to his feet, striding to where the girls were pummeling their father. Lady Iddesleigh hoisted herself out of her chair and held out her hands for her daughters. “All right, then. Come, darlings.”

At the sound of their mother’s voice, three of them abandoned their father without so much as a kiss. Donovan stepped over Beck and picked up the baby, then followed the girls, putting his hand on the head of one of the younger ones who tried to veer off toward a table laden with fruit and water, and pointing her back in the direction of her mother.

William bowed as Lady Iddesleigh waddled by, her hand to the small of her back.

“I hope you receive better advice than what my husband gave me the time I wondered aloud why we’d not been blessed with a boy.” She moved her hand over her belly.

“So do I,” Donovan said as he passed, now carrying the baby and the next youngest girl.

Beck sat up, his legs straight in front of him. He watched his family and Donovan climb the stairs and said, “The next had better be a boy, by God. Am I to live out the rest of my life with all these girls underfoot?”

William offered him a hand up. Beck was in shirtsleeves, rolled up to his elbows. He hopped to his feet, straightened his waistcoat, dragged his fingers through his hair—which made it stand up on end—and flicked grass from his trousers. He walked to the table and filled a glass with water. “They’ll be the death of me, all of them,” he said. “And to think I used to fear death at the hands of Caro, Eliza and Hollis. They were ducklings compared to my brood.” He drank the water and looked at William. He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth. “Now, then. What sort of advice do you seek, my friend?”

“I need to know how to get rid of a matchmaker.”

Beck laughed. William did not. Donovan, he noticed, had wandered back onto the terrace. He didn’t want an audience for this conversation, but he wanted to be at Prescott Hall before it was too late. “She has brought the worst possible candidates to the princess. Principe di Aggiani. Jonathan Ashley.”

“Ashley! Dirty little bastard, that one. He called once on my sister Caro. I wouldn’t let him in the door.”

“There must be something that can be done,” William insisted.

Beck cocked his head to one side. “What can be done? And why do you care who the princess marries?”

“I...Idonnacare,” he said, stammering a little. He could kick himself—he’d been so intent on enlisting Beck to come up with a plan that he hadn’t considered the most obvious question. “That is, Idocare, as she is my friend. But only for that reason.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Donovan said.

William rubbed his nape. “Beck. Help me.”

“Yes, of course, I will, as you clearly need my help.” Beck put down his glass. “All right, then, here it is. I give this advice to you as a friend, Douglas. Do you understand?”

William nodded and indicated with his hand that Beck should get on with it.

“My advice is that you step out of the way and allow Lady Aleksander to find the princess someone to marry. She must marry, and soon, if rumors of her father’s demise are to be believed. And you will be removed from her circle soon enough, as the rumor of a scandal in Scotland has begun to reach London.”

William’s heart stilled. “What rumor?”

Beck smiled. “You really don’t know? Would you like me to repeat all that I’ve ever heard about you? Because there’s quite a lot. Perhaps just the salacious parts.”

Donovan laughed.

William had feared the worst after the drunk babbling of Ashley, but hope was such a potent thing, and had managed to cloak his fear. “A rumor...about my father, then?”

Beck shook his head. “About you and a country girl.”

He could feel the blood drain from his face. All that money his father had paid to keep it quiet. William had warned him it would never work. “I did nothing, on my word, my hand to God. Nothing happened, other than I tried to help her.”

Beck put up his hand, saving William the embarrassment of babbling on. “You needn’t say more. It’s not me you need convince.”

William was suddenly struck with the terrifying thought of those rumors reaching Justine. His heart squeezed with the despair and the injustice of it all. He would rather die than have her think ill of him. He wanted her to esteem him. He wanted her to...tolovehim.

Much like he esteemed her. More every day.

He couldn’t stomach even the thought of being removed from her circle, but he knew aristocrats well enough to know it would happen in the blink of an eye. He enjoyed her company. He found her interesting and refreshing and he couldn’t bear this, none of it.

“You look ill, my lord,” Donovan said.

“I think my heart is failing,” William admitted.

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