Content was possibly the last word Drew would have used to describe her expression, but he had a name at last. Mrs. Ramsay.
“In the future,” he told the solicitor, “I do not expect you to dismiss anyone in favor of me.”
“No,” said the lawyer after a startled moment. “As you wish, sir.”
He nodded once. It would have to be enough. Now he hoped Mrs. Ramsay had not recognized him, so that she wouldn’t blame him for her summary dismissal from her own lawyer’s office. He opened the leather case of documents he had brought from Carlyle Castle and tried to put the intriguing woman from his mind.
Stormont Palace, the duke’s Scottish property, was a fine mansion that had been in Carlyle hands for over a hundred years, with extensive grounds and gardens. It was some fifty miles away, near Perth. Edwards believed it had been decently cared for under MacGill’s hand, but he strongly advised Drew never to take that for granted.
Mr. MacGill nodded when informed of Drew’s purpose, his thumbs hooked in his waistcoat pockets. “I’ve no doubt you’ll find all in perfect order there, Captain.”
“One hopes,” said Drew. “I intend to visit it myself, so we shall see.”
MacGill’s brows rose. “Indeed, sir! I shall send word along at once.”
He smiled briefly. “If it is in perfect order, is that necessary?”
The lawyer blinked, then nodded. “True, true! Ah . . . well, what shall I show you, then?”
For hours he pored over the records the solicitor brought out. Stormont Palace did appear to be in fine condition. Though not profitable, it supported itself. Surely with a little effort it could be brought into even better shape, and be a valuable piece of the ducal portfolio instead of a burdensome afterthought.
When he stepped back out into the square, he was mildly surprised by the angle of the sunlight. He’d been there longer than expected, and MacGill had never left his side. He wondered how many other clients had been turned away during his visit. Shaking his head at the difference between a lowly new lieutenant and the heir to a duke, he walked back to the Old Town, to his mother’s house, where he had promised to dine.
Unlike yesterday, he found everyone at home this time. Isabella and Winifred ran to fling themselves at him with shrieks of welcome. Laughing, he caught one in each arm, then had to adjust when Agnes joined them. He looked over their heads to see their mother, Louisa, smiling at the sight of them all.
“Save me, Mother,” he exclaimed. “I’m overwhelmed!”
This brought a round of protest and even mild abuse. “Such a soft little man you’ve become, in the army,” scoffed Bella.
“I daresay we shouldn’t tell his colonel that three girls can overwhelm him,” added Winnie.
He huffed. “Like a flock of geese, you are. Honk, honk, honk, and so much flapping of wings . . .”
“Andrew,” said his mother in gentle reproof. “That is ungentlemanly.”
Abashed, he kissed her cheek and then swung her off her feet in an embrace, grinning as his mother squawked indignantly and his sisters burst out laughing.
“Well!” Flustered, Louisa clapped one hand to her head, adjusting her cap. “At least we know it’s really you. Come in, come in!”
Dinner was a feast, with his favorite dishes in every course and good Scotch claret throughout. He inhaled happily. He’d missed his mother’s kitchen, and when Annag brought in the crowning glory, the roasted beef, he might have moaned in ecstasy. He certainly ignored his sisters’ teasing about his appetite, right through the sweets course.
“’Tis more than the rest of us could eat in a week,” whispered Winnie, eyeing his plate.
“How fortunate the army has the feeding of him,” said Bella. “Our cupboards would be bare.”
“I’m being appreciative,” Drew retorted, ladling more cream on his plum pudding. “’Tis the finest meal I’ve had in months, even including at the castle.”
“And are you going to tell us why you’ve been to Carlyle Castle?” asked his mother, raising her eyebrows. Instantly the room fell silent, and all three sisters turned to him with expectant faces.
He swallowed his bite of pudding and laid down his fork. She’d been very restrained—all of them had been. He’d got to enjoy a delicious dinner in peace. “Aye. But I warn you, we’ll need more claret.”
“Why?” demanded Bella as Agnes jumped up and began pouring.
“Papa always said they were the coldest people there at Carlyle,” put in Winnie. “I couldn’t possibly hate them more!”
“No,” he said, holding up one hand. “You’ll not hate them when you hear.” Agnes raised a skeptical brow, but the younger girls looked interested. He took a deep breath. “The duke is in poor health. His younger brother died a few months ago.”
Someone made a dismissive noise under her breath. “How unfortunate,” said Louisa, shooting a sharp glance around the table.
Drew leaned forward. “The brother was the duke’s heir.” No one’s expression changed. “The duke has no children, nor even a wife. When he dies, the title will have to go to a male St. James, descended from a previous duke.”
Bella sucked in her breath. Agnes jerked in her seat.
“You?” said Winnie incredulously. “No. Drew, you can’t mean . . .”
He nodded, watching his mother’s face turn pale. “I appear to be first in line for it.”
The girls erupted in shock, babbling questions and exclamations. One hand at her throat, Louisa reached for her claret and drained the glass.
“Well, Mother?” he prompted. “Do you think I’m a liar, too?” Agnes flushed; she was the one who’d voiced blatant disbelief.
“No,” Louisa said. “But—but it is too incredible, Andrew!”
“So thought I, but the duchess was quite clear. Her solicitor has a chart of the family, and there’s no one between the current duke and me.” He spread his arms. “You’d better get used to calling me Your Grace, sisters.”
Bella hooted, Winnie threw her napkin at him, and their mother scolded both. Only Agnes gave him a peeved frown. “Of course we won’t. Don’t be vain.”
He grinned at her. “Vain! When I’ve brought a trunk full of gifts for my dear family?” He held up one hand as Bella fairly leapt out of her seat in excitement. “I left it with Felix Duncan. You’ll have them tomorrow.”
“Felix Duncan,” said Louisa in disapproval. “Andrew, you ought to stay here, with us.”
“Agnes has already taken herself off to stay with her friend,” piped up Bella. “She’s left her room for your use, Drew.”
“But if you don’t want it, may I take it?” asked Winnie eagerly before he could speak. “It’s so unfair Agnes has a room to herself, and now she’s not even here—”
“She’ll come back,” said Louisa, “particularly if Andrew is not staying with us.”
“I’ve given my word to Mrs. Ramsay!” protested Agnes in outrage. “Mama, you said I might stay with her for a month—”
“Who is this friend?” interrupted Drew, his attention caught by that name. He glanced at his sister’s flushed face. If by some strange chance her friend was the same woman he’d danced with in the oyster cellar—the same woman who had kissed him and then disappeared—he couldn’t imagine his mother approved of Agnes spending time with her.