Lord Stephen had been not merely the duke’s younger brother; he had also been his only heir. A terrible accident years ago had left the duke with the mind of a child. He had never married, never had a son, and never would. Lord Stephen’s death meant the dukedom must now pass to a distant cousin.
It had been fiercely hoped by all at Carlyle Castle that Lord Stephen’s marriage would yield an heir. Miss Calvert was not a very young woman, but she was by no means past the age of bearing a child, and there had been genuine affection between her and Lord Stephen. Now those hopes were dashed, which meant the heir presumptive was wandering about somewhere, in complete ignorance of the monumental inheritance about to befall him.
Mr. Edwards drew a paper from his case. Thirty years ago, the second Carlyle son, Lord William, had been killed in the American colonies, shortly before the duke’s accident. As the years passed and Lord Stephen did not marry, the succession had become precarious. Quietly and discreetly, Mr. Edwards had begun investigating three men, against the grim possibility that this day would arrive.
Even so, despite the urgent necessity, this must be done delicately. Edwards had been the Carlyle solicitor for over twenty-five years, long enough to know the family secrets and stains. He chose to begin with the easiest point. “Captain Andrew St. James, of His Majesty’s Scots Guards. His grandfather was the younger brother of His Grace the fourth Duke.”
“Yes,” she said, her expression unreadable at this mention of her late husband. “I remember. He’ll be Adam’s grandson. Is this young fellow anything like his grandfather?”
Mr. Edwards cleared his throat. Lord Adam, by all accounts, had been both sensible and charming. That had not saved him from a vicious falling out with his older brother, the fourth duke, and Lord Adam had left the family estates decades ago. “I’ve no idea, Your Grace. My reports are that Captain St. James is an honorable and respectable man.”
She harrumphed. “Of what age? Is he married?”
“About thirty years, ma’am, and he is not married, to the best of my knowledge.”
She sighed. “It would be a military man.”
Her second son had gone into the British army, and never come back from it. Her opinion of the army was not high.
After a moment she roused herself. “I suppose we should be grateful that he’s survived this long. That may mean he’s very clever—or extremely stupid. I am not sure which I prefer. Who else?”
Edwards withdrew another sheet of paper. “Mr. Maximilian St. James.”
“I can tell from your tone of voice this one is not so respectable.”
The solicitor gazed at her evenly. “He is a gamester, Your Grace. He has no other income that I can discern, but he is well-known at the gaming hells. He is descended from the second duke, is about twenty-seven years of age, and also has no wife.”
“Such dissolute fools the young men of Britain are these days.” She frowned ferociously. “Are there no more?”
“Er—perhaps.” He hesitated; this was the most delicate territory of all. “His Grace the fourth Duke had two younger brothers.”
“Oh yes,” she said after a moment, a lilt of surprise in her voice. “Good heavens. I forgot about him.”
Mr. Edwards nodded. Nearly everyone had, because the duke had ordered it so. Lord Adam had been banished, but his name was still spoken at Carlyle Castle. Lord Thomas St. James, on the other hand, had disappeared at the age of five as if he’d never existed. He had been his mother’s favorite son—so much so, that she took him with her when she fled her husband, the third duke, and returned to her native France. Rumor held she had gone back to the French vicomte who had been her lover. It was whispered that Lord Thomas might be his child.
It had been an enormous scandal, and the third duke had declared both his wife and son dead to him. On one notorious occasion, half a dozen servants had been whipped for gossiping about her. After that, the names of the runaway duchess and her son were never mentioned by any of the Carlyle servants or staff. The fourth duke had been no more forgiving of his mother’s desertion, and in time Anne-Louise and her son Thomas had been all but forgotten.
“I have made a few attempts to trace him and his mother, without success.” Mr. Edwards paused. “It has been several decades. Who knows where Lord