Page 47 of Claiming His Lost Duchess
“Certainly,mo leannan,” Graham assured strongly. “I would love nothing more.”
His words seemed to assure her, and she immediately smiled, her demeanor bright again, and she nodded excitedly, scurrying away moments later.
The feeling of warmth that had filled the room lingered for a moment longer, until Andrew walked in, bowing deeply.
“Your Grace. Good afternoon.”
Graham nodded, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk, as he walked around to settle behind it.
“What news have ye brought to me now? Ye look as though ye about ta wet yerself. Do it outside, if ye must.”
Andrew laughed nervously, avoiding the duke’s watchful eyes.”
“That…” the solicitor cleared his throat when his voice came out lighter than usual. “That will not be necessary, Your Grace. I do have some… information to give you. And you might not like it.”
“Out with it, then. It won’t be the first time ye offer words of disappointment. I am not a wee bairn.”
“That is right, Your Grace. Well… it would seem that the Lords you wished to partner with concerning your latest business venture have opted to decline your offer.”
Graham frowned. “They declined? Just like that? Did they hear the terms I had to offer? It is no small profit, what will be made when we are successful.”
Andrew looked even more uncertain now, seeming as though he was trying to make himself as small as possible beneath the duke’s gaze of scrutiny.
“W-Well, I was not given a chance to speak of the benefits. Once they heard I was associated with you –”
The man fell silent all of a sudden, reluctant to speak anymore, much to Graham’s frustration. He snapped, slamming a closed fist against the top of his desk.
“What? Out with it already!”
Andrew jumped, startled with fear in his eyes as he quickly spoke as he had been commanded to,
“They turned me away! They said they had no intentions of mingling with some entitled Scot who was too big for his breeches.”
Graham went still as his blood ran cold.
Those bloody bastards. Men who were nothing more than overgrown boys with childlike minds, evident in their attitudes that could be commonly spotted in a schoolyard. It was utterly ridiculous that he had to endure such unabashed discrimination, simply because he was not an Englishman like they were, and normally, he would have found another way to sort the issue without associating with those men.
But he had a daughter now. A child who will grow up to benefit from the relationships her father fostered if she were to later have her pick of suitors. He did not believe there was anything wrong with being Scottish, but he did not want such an idea implanted in her head. Not when she had already been ignored solely dude to the color of her hair.
With a sigh, Graham rose to his feet.
“Come along, Andrew.”
The solicitor barely managed to stay upright after he jumped out of his seat, closely following the duke.
“W-Where to, Your Grace?”
“Wherever I can find those rude bastards. I have a thing or two to teach them about manners.”
According to Andrew’s directions, the men were commonly known to frequent a gentleman’s club only a five-minute walk away from the one Graham engaged with, alongside his close friends.
Perhaps the familiar streets only motivated him further, despite Andrew’s attempts to dissuade him.
“Your Grace, perhaps we should consider using another approach,” the solicitor proposed, hurrying after him.
“Absolutely not. It seems they have a lot to say about me, with no idea about my business or work practices, and I would like to hear more about their thoughts,” Graham refuted, walking into the club.
At this time of the day, it had quite a handful of men drinking and playing games, looking without a single care in the world. One table in particular caught his attention, and Graham noticed it had several people he had intended to work with.
