his breath. It had been too incredible to be true.
“This is quite shocking news, ma’am,” replied the captain. If the news had shocked him, he had recovered well. “But is there no one—?”
The solicitor cleared his throat and opened his mouth. “No,” said the duchess shortly. “There is no one nearer.”
A weighty look passed between them, and then the solicitor picked up the thread. “As you may not know, His Grace the Duke suffered a tragic injury many years ago. It has rendered him unable to take a wife and father direct heirs, which means there is no chance either of you will be supplanted by an heir apparent.” He drew a wide sheet of paper from under his elbow and spread it on the front of the table, facing them. “I have taken the liberty of documenting the family here.” He paused as Max and the soldier leaned forward in unison, craning their necks to see. “This documentation will be invaluable when the time comes to assert a claim, particularly as neither of you is a direct descendant of the current or previous holder of the title.”
For the first time Max’s eyes met those of the captain. The other man looked as startled as Max felt. The Duke of Carlyle was incapable of fathering a child. His only heir was dead. And he was . . . Max took a brief glance at the neatly scripted family chart. The duke was nearly sixty years old.
This . . . this was a pressing concern, he realized.
“I see this has been something of a surprise to you,” announced the duchess into the silence. “It has been no less alarming to me.”
Max’s hackles rose. He knew exactly what she meant. It might not have been so horrifying to them if they’d taken any interest in him years ago. “I wouldn’t precisely call it alarming,” he drawled. “A surprise, I’ll grant.”
The duchess’s expression should have turned him into a pillar of ash. The solicitor sighed in disappointment. Even the captain gave him a disapproving look. Max simply smiled back at all of them.
“The rules of inheritance are firm,” said the duchess, still eyeing him with distaste. “The title and entailed lands must descend through the male St. James line, and they will. One of you will be the next duke—Captain St. James, most likely, or Mr. St. James in the event tragedy befalls the captain.” From her expression, Max thought she’d consider his inheriting a calamity verging on the apocalypse.
“There is a considerable fortune attached to the estate, naturally,” she went on. “It is an enormous responsibility, and neither of you have the slightest preparation to assume it.”
“Naturally,” murmured Max.
“I have had both of you investigated,” she went on, ignoring him. “The results were hardly reassuring, but we must deal with what we must. Neither of you has taken a wife yet.”
“No, ma’am,” said the captain.
Max could hardly feed himself some months, let alone a wife and the children who usually followed. The duchess, with her jewels and satin-covered footstools, hadn’t the slightest idea about him. “Not one of my own,” he said languidly.
The silence was like a bubble of surprise. The lawyer took his meaning first, pressing his lips together and looking down. The captain cleared his throat, and the duchess glared daggers at him.
“Nor have you taken any pains toward respectability, sir,” she shot back. “That is what troubles me, and that is why I sent for you. The Duke of Carlyle wields great power, and must do so with dignity and decorum.”
Max thought of the last duke he’d seen—the young Duke of Umberton, gambling away eleven thousand pounds in one night and taking down his breeches to piss upon the faro table in a fit of pique. Dignity and decorum, indeed.
“It is an awesome responsibility,” the captain was saying, as sober as a judge, lapping up her words as if they were scripture. “I hope I may become worthy of it.”
His manner, obsequious to Max’s disdainful eyes, was nonetheless thawing the duchess’s frosty demeanor. She nodded at him. “I expect it of you, Captain.” The glance she gave Max was cold again. “And of you, Mr. St. James.”
He dipped his head in acknowledgement.
“I understand this may be a difficult request,” she went on. “I am prepared to help. Mr. Edwards will disburse to each of you five hundred pounds, immediately. I trust you will use it wisely, and return to Carlyle Castle in six months’ time more sober, refined gentlemen.