A Scot to the Heart (Desperately Seeking Duke #2) - Caroline Linden Page 0,120

I have no wish to neglect that aspect of the position.”

“I thought you had three sisters,” she snapped.

Drew hid his grin. “Only two will be in search of husbands.”

“Hmph,” she muttered. “I knew a Scot would be trouble.”

“Your Grace.” Ilsa got up and knelt beside the duchess’s throne chair. “I would also like your blessing. I know I am unprepared to fill your shoes—and suspect I never could—but I am wholly committed to helping Andrew fulfill his role with grace and honor. I hope you can see that he and I are devoted to each other, and to our duty to Carlyle. It is a weighty responsibility, and one best served by a couple, standing at each other’s sides and loyal to each other.” She bowed her head, like a knight before the sovereign.

The duchess stared. Incredibly, after a moment she extended her hand, which Ilsa clasped reverently. “Perhaps you will do, Mrs. St. James. Humility and determination will take you far . . .”

When they walked out into the garden later, Drew was still marveling at her performance. “As if you could never fill her shoes!”

Ilsa smiled. “I meant it! What she has done is impressive. Miss Kirkpatrick told me the duke has been invalided for nearly thirty years. In all those years, every responsibility has fallen on the duchess, with no one to support her. And in that time she has buried three children, all the while knowing the duke’s health is poor and she will inevitably lose him, too.” She shook her head. “I admire her to no end. I am not sure I could bear up as she has done.”

“Of course you could,” he said, but Ilsa shook her head.

“Don’t say that,” she said somberly. “Until one has been in that position, it is impossible to know—or to judge.”

“Yes,” he said at once. His mother’s words came back to him, about how much the duchess had lost. Ilsa understood that more deeply than he did. “You’re right.”

She smiled up at him. “Of course I am.”

He chuckled, and they walked on, laughing together when Ilsa pointed out that they obviously could not live here because Robert would trample or eat all the flowers.

When they had been there a few days, Mr. Edwards asked Drew to take a turn in the bailey yard with him. Since Drew spent hours closeted with the attorney every day, he wondered at this. Ilsa had struck up a friendship with Miss Kirkpatrick, the duchess’s companion, and the two ladies were having tea in the lavish Green Salon, so he agreed.

“I am sorry to say that His Grace has taken a turn for the worse,” said the attorney as they walked.

Drew started, almost gaping. All his plans rested on the duke’s continued health.

“I tell you this in strictest confidence,” added Mr. Edwards.

“Of course,” he murmured, his mind racing.

“Your intention to spend only three months of the year at Carlyle . . .”

“Mr. Edwards.” Drew stopped walking. “Do you mean to say . . . Should I expect—?” He couldn’t even say it. Ilsa had been so pleased with the Stormont compromise.

“As to that, I do not know.” The attorney gave him a brief smile. “Fate is unpredictable, is it not?”

“Yes,” agreed Drew slowly.

“Perhaps it will not matter so much to you.” Edwards paused with a troubled look. “Her Grace does not wish me to say this, but . . . you may not bear sole responsibility for Carlyle.”

What? “I understood there was no nearer heir.”

Edwards bobbed his head as he walked. “No known nearer heir, no.”

“Mr. Edwards.” He was stunned. The last seven months, he had believed Carlyle was to be his—unalterably, incontrovertibly, inevitably. “Speak plainly, if you please.”

Sunlight reflected off the attorney’s spectacles as he faced Drew, obscuring his eyes. “The fact is, I cannot. Her Grace wishes me not to, but I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to believe the title and estate will indisputably be yours.”

“What the hell does that mean?” he exclaimed.

Edwards looked away. “It means what I said. There is no known heir nearer than yourself, but there are . . . possibilities. Remote ones, I assure you.” He paused. “Most men would be angry at learning this, but when I heard of your desire to live at Stormont Palace, to stay in Scotland, I wondered.”

“Wondered what?” he demanded.

“When Maximilian was here a month ago, we had no idea where you were or if you would return safely. I felt obliged to inform him of that fact,