Page 18 of The Nabob's Designing Daughter
Astonished that she would confide in him—and the contents of that confidence, he paused.
“I’ve rendered you speechless, Dr. Robillard. You’re thinking that I’m vulgar.”
“No, no, duchess. I have no standing to do so. I’m… surprised is all. Gaining the title for Ann would not have been enough for him?”
She shook her head. “No. He misjudged Andrew most dreadfully. My husband was never expecting the title, you know. It ought to have gone to his brother, Evan, Penelope’s late husband. Strachney knew Kinmarty was in financial difficulties, and he thought to use his wealth to manipulate and be the true power in this little realm.” She laughed. “But by the time he and Ann paid their first visit, the duke and I had fallen hopelessly in love. I had no money, but Penelope had gobs of it. And not ill-gotten off the backs of Indian laborers, either. Evan had served valiantly in some local prince’s army and been handsomely rewarded.”
“And the children?” He couldn’t help asking.
She shrugged. “By his second wife.”
“I’ve… er… heard that such a thing is not uncommon there.”
She gave him a merry smile. “We don’t call them wives, but it is not so uncommon here, either. Though not for the Duke of Kinmarty; not while I’m his duchess.”
Best to change the subject. “And how are you feeling today?”
“Like a tired whale. Or perhaps an elephant is a better comparison. Penelope rode on elephants you know and found it quite exhilarating.”
He saw it then: she was chattering on because she was unsettled and trying to hide it. “You mustn’t tax yourself. Forgive me, but I’ve been wondering why you planned a house party during your confinement.”
“We are hosting the gentlemen primarily for business. Strachney got wind of unmarried lords and wangled an invitation for him and Ann. And to vex him, Penelope brought Edme along. We plan to charge a very large fee for shooting parties, and these men will help us find paying guests. It was Lovelace’s idea. For my part, I’m glad we’ll have a proper surgeon when one of these fools shoots himself in the foot. I’m ever so glad you’re here, Dr. Robillard. In fact, I would love you to say you’d like to stay longer. Do you shoot?”
“No, duchess, I’m more of a fisherman. I grew up in Edinburgh. My father was an innkeeper. I’d no access to shooting.”
“I see. Well, come, let me show you the library. I’ve been working for the past several months to clean and catalogue the volumes. Perhaps we shall find some other way to persuade you to stay.”
As she was showing him the arrangement of the library shelves, the duke entered and joined them, inquiring about her health.
“I’m quite well, Andrew. No true pains yet.”
Errol swept a gaze over her. “It may yet be several more days.”
“In that case, Robillard, I should like to take you away tomorrow and introduce you to some of the locals, if my dear wife will allow it.”
“Of course,” the duchess said. “Babies take their time, I hear. I can always send for both of you if needed.”
“I’ll introduce you to my factor—ah, here is Forbes now.”
Forbes, a sturdy white-haired man in his sixties or perhaps even older, greeted them.
“Forbes was the butler at Kinmarty when I was a child. He knows every inch of the castle and the surrounding countryside. He’s found a cottage in the village that he thinks will suit as a surgery. Perhaps we can look at it tomorrow.”
A cottage and surgery. Something permanent. What was the duke up to? The last thing he wanted was to become firmly established here.
The duchess patted his arm. “I’ll be all right, Dr. Robillard.”
He dipped his head. Let her think that his reluctance had to do with worrying about her condition.
“We’ll leave word where we’re going,” Forbes said. “Duke, I’ve put Mr. Henderson in your study.”
“He’s arrived then. I’ll just go and greet him.”
“’Struth, your grace, it’s Dr. Robillard he’s asked for.”
All eyes turned his way. “He wrote that he wanted to meet with me here. I thought it was odd. I stopped at his office in Edinburgh and none of his clerks would say why.”
“It’s surely good news then,” said the duke, a guileless look on his face.
