A Scot to the Heart (Desperately Seeking Duke #2) - Caroline Linden Page 0,6

lads ducking their tutors in the labyrinth of narrow alleys in and around the Cowgate. “This time, Duncan, I’ve got a revelation so wondrous even you won’t believe it.”

He went into the spare room where his trunks had already been delivered. One of them was familiar; it held his belongings, other than the essentials in his saddlebag. The other, larger trunk was new, full of gifts and trinkets for his family, lovely frivolous things suitable for the mother and sisters of a duke.

The sight of it sobered him. It was a Trojan horse, that trunk, a lavish gift that would subtly inject the elegant, rarified world of Carlyle Castle into his family. After the way the previous duke had treated his grandfather, Drew’s family had wanted nothing to do with the castle. Now, though, they had no choice, and that trunk was meant to change their minds.

He’d written to his mother only that he appeared to have expectations from the ducal branch of the family; it had felt like hubris to write it down and send the news into the world, unfettered and liable to run amok. Mr. Edwards, the solicitor, was keeping the whole matter quiet. No one outside Carlyle Castle knew of the duchess’s plan.

At times Drew had wondered wryly if that was to make it easier to bend him and his cousin to the duchess’s will, but the solicitor claimed it was for his own sake, to spare him the intense glare of scrutiny that would fall upon the heir to the dukedom. And that meant very few people in England, and no one at all in Scotland, had any idea that the future Duke of Carlyle trod the plainstanes of Edinburgh this evening.

In truth, he still hardly believed it himself. The Carlyle inheritance seemed like a dream. Even in the midst of Mr. Edwards’s strictures or explanations of some finer point of the estate, part of him had thought it wouldn’t really be his, that some other heir would miraculously emerge at the last moment and leave Drew and his rakish cousin empty-handed. Only now that he was here, about to uproot his family and begin shouldering the burden of Carlyle, was it sinking in that it was his future. This next month would be the last of his life as Captain St. James, ordinary Scotsman and soldier.

As expected, Duncan followed him within minutes, a towel around his neck and two drams of whisky in his hand, one of which he held out. “All right, then, what is this wondrous and incredible revelation?”

For answer, Drew handed him a sealed packet. Duncan tossed back his drink and set down the glass to unfold the papers. For all his rakish ways, Duncan was a judge’s son and an advocate himself, and more intelligent than he acted.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” he exclaimed a few minutes later, still reading. “Is this—is this real?”

Drew nodded, stripping off his coat and tossing it on the wingback chair near the window. He longed for a bath and wondered if Duncan would agree to a naked plunge in the Firth, as they’d used to do.

“Carlyle?” said his friend incredulously. “Carlyle? You?”

Drew gave a mocking bow. “At your service.”

After another shocked moment, Duncan put back his head and roared with laughter. “You—a duke! You—the veriest devil of a child, a peer of the realm! You—the wild Scot, a proper Englishman!”

That last made him frown. “I was not wild, and I won’t be an Englishman.”

“Oh nay, never.” Grinning fiendishly, Duncan folded the letters and tossed them back at him. “It might take a while, but you’ll become one. No more Scots for you, only King’s English. You’ll wed a pale Englishwoman and your grandchildren will never venture north of the River Tweed.”

Tight-lipped, he replaced the documents in his trunk. “That’s lunacy speaking.” Even though he’d consciously spoken crisp English at Carlyle, and all but invited the duchess to find an appropriate wife for him. Of course she would choose an English lady . . .

“Is it?” murmured Duncan with a devilish gleam in his eye. “We’ll see about that.” He left the room, and Drew went back to unpacking his things, irate at his friend for speaking such blunt truth.

Several minutes later Duncan was back, a slim book in his hand. “If you’re going to remain a Scot, you’ll need help.”

The Widower and Bachelor’s Directory, read the title. Frowning, Drew opened it, and gave a bark of disbelieving laughter as he realized what it was. “A