Page 52 of Dukes Do It Better
“Ah. Well, that clarifies things not one whit,” Lottie muttered.
* * *
“What time are we meeting to deal with the bank book? I want to get this over with.” Simon’s voice was low, but Malachi glanced around to see who could overhear.
“Maybe now isn’t the time to discuss grave robbing.”
“Whose grave? Theft is essentially landlocked piracy. Moving things inland, Captain?” Calvin said mildly from behind them.
Malachi narrowed his eyes at Simon in a look what you did glare.
“Technically, it’s not theft if it’s yours to begin with,” Simon said, completely undeterred by the arrival of another man.
“You’re robbing your own grave? Isn’t that a bit…premature?” Calvin asked.
The comment didn’t warrant a response, although Simon was more than happy to laugh at the jest. Malachi went about dividing Emma’s plate the way she liked. One pile of bread slices. Another of cheese, and one more of meat. Thankfully, she didn’t mind mixing fruit. At least, not as far as he knew. He glanced back at the women where they sat with the children. No, Emma would have to divide berries on her own, or she should have stated her preference if it was so important to her. By comparison, Alton’s plate was easy.
“What on earth are you doing to those poor sandwiches?” Simon asked.
Calvin appeared at Malachi’s elbow and stared at the tidy piles of food. “Are you making a plate for Emma?”
Malachi shrugged. “She likes her sandwiches in pieces.”
Something in Calvin’s expression made him pause. The whole outing had made him feel like he was under a magnifying lens, while their friends and family watched Malachi and Emma like a particularly fascinating species of bug. This look was different, though.
Calvin squinted a bit, staring into Malachi’s eyes as if trying to read his soul. “You’ll do.” He nodded. “Whatever this grave thing is, count me in.”
“I didn’t invite you,” Malachi said, stating the obvious.
“It would be rude not to.” Cal picked up a tiny sandwich from the platter on the table and popped it in his mouth whole. “Think of it as a friendship-building exercise. Like arm wrestling or getting drunk together.”
Malachi raised one eyebrow. “We’re friends now?”
“Afraid so. I can bring muscle with me.” Calvin jerked a thumb toward a giant of a man approaching with a curvy dark-haired woman on his arm. “Surely bulk is an asset when robbing a grave.”
The bulk in question wandered over and watched the brunette make her way toward where Emma sat. Somewhat distractedly, the man asked in a Scottish lilt, “Isn’ grave robbin’ illegal?”
“The more people we bring into this, the more likely we’ll get caught,” Malachi said.
“But you two have already done shady things together.” Calvin waved a hand between Malachi and the newcomer. “Ethan, Viscount Amesbury, meet Captain Harlow of His Majesty’s Royal Navy and the newly minted Duke of Trenton.”
The name clicked in Malachi’s brain. Yes, he did have history with this man. Simon looked confused, but no way in hell was he going to explain here. “Pleasure to finally meet you, milord.”
Lord Amesbury nodded a greeting. “So, what’s the plan?”
“What is the plan, Mal?” Simon asked.
Malachi cleared his throat. “When I think of one, I’ll let you know.”
“Lucky for you, I’m excellent at making plans,” Calvin said, loading his own plate.
Malachi shook his head and juggled plates and glasses. “I might have liked you better when you were trying to outman me,” he said.
“I can still insult you, if it would make you feel better,” Calvin quipped, grabbing two glasses of ale and joining them. “You’re giving me plenty of material to work with. Between the hair and the beard, you look like a dockworker, and the cut of your coat is appalling.”
“I’ll be along in a minute,” Lord Amesbury said, eyeing the buffet table.
As they crossed the lawn, Calvin whistled a tune under his breath.
