“With Kendall? My wee brother?” Sir Rafe sat back, brows drawing down. “Nae, we don’t speak with one another. Our father cut me off completely after his bigamy trial, thank goodness. Then he remarried some Italian noblewoman and sired the twins—the present duke and his sister, Lady Allegra. I believe Lady Allegra and her mother have lived in Italy for the past decade; the duchess somehow managed to break free of my father’s chains. As for young Kendall, I have crossed paths with him in London but have never exchanged more than a dozen words with the lad. Why do ye ask?”
“Kendall has been writing Ethan.”
“Whyever for?”
“As best I can tell, Kendall is playing matchmaker.”
Sir Rafe scoffed at that, sipping his whisky. “My ducal brother would be more likely tae take a role in a Covent Garden pantomime than play matchmaker. He is cut of the same cloth as our sire—autocratic, self-interested, and not given to flights of romantic whimsy.”
“Precisely my own assumptions. But I understand Kendall has taken a lively interest in Ethan marrying Miss Viola Brodure.”
“The authoress?”
“The very same.”
Malcolm tossed back the rest of his whisky. It seemed the only appropriate response when thinking upon Miss Brodure—use every means possible to obliterate her from his mind.
Perhaps that was why he had brought up Kendall. Another physic to remind himself of all the forces drawing Ethan and Miss Brodure together. Forces much higher and more powerful than himself.
Sir Rafe snapped his fingers. “Her father is the vicar at Westacre, is he not?”
“I cannae say,” Malcolm said.
Sir Rafe’s gaze went hazy. “I am almost sure he has the living at Westacre. I seem tae remember someone mentioning it in a letter tae me . . . that Dr. Brodure replaced old Mr. Samuelson.”
Malcolm raised his eyebrows. “That seems an uncannily specific thing tae know.”
Sir Rafe shrugged. “The living is held by the Dukes of Kendall. ’Twas the parish church where I grew up. If that is the case, I can see why Kendall might take an interest. He perhaps wishes his vicar’s daughter tae marry well. Or, more likely, tae harness her popularity for his own gain.”
Did knowing that Kendall was Dr. Brodure’s benefactor make the duke’s meddling letters to Ethan more or less understandable? Malcolm was unsure.
“Or perhaps I am wrong,” Sir Rafe shot Malcolm a wry grin, “and my wee brother has taken an interest in romance. If so, he might be better suited for a Drury Lane farce than I had supposed.”
Malcolm nodded in agreement, though secretly he wondered if he, himself, in the throes of this gauche infatuation with his own brother’s intended, was theglaikitfool destined to enact a melodrama.
Malcolm arrived homethe next evening in time for dinner and to receive a moment-by-moment recounting of his sibling’s visit with Miss Brodure the previous day.
He stripped off his coat, washed his hands, and joined Fox, Leah, and Ethan in the dining room just as Mrs. McGregor set hot dishes on the tabletop.
Leah and Fox had decided to stay a few extra days, both to keep Ethan company and for Fox to conduct business with his solicitor in Brechin. They would be returning to Laverloch in the morning.
“Are ye sure ye didnae need me tae come back to Thistle Muir sooner rather than later?” Leah asked for approximately the twelfth time, passing a bowl of roasted tatties to Fox. “I ken Mrs. McGregor’s daughter is set tae have her baby soon and will certainly need some time away tae tend to her.”
“Nae, Leah.” Malcolm shook his head, reaching for the platter of Yorkshire puddings. “As I keep telling ye, the midwife thinks it will be perhaps even a month or more afore Isla has the babe. Mrs. McGregor has been spending her free-day with Isla and Callum, preparing what she can in advance. But as this is Isla’s fourth bairn, I think she kens well what tae do. I spoke with Callum about it just yesterday, and he seemed at ease. Ethan and I can manage here, Leah. We didnae need yourself to travel clear down the glen tae wait upon us bachelors.”
Across from Malcolm, Ethan nodded in agreement. “Besides, I intend tae spend as much time as possible with Miss Brodure. I take back any abuse I have dealt in my refusal to come to know her. She was utterly charming, Malcolm,” he said around a mouthful of Mrs. McGregor’s excellent roast beef.
Malcolm grunted his agreement, slathering butter onto a warm bap.
“Aye, she and Ethan rubbed along brilliantly.” Leah grinned far too widely, spooning tatties onto her own plate.
“I regret that I was unable to accompany you on your morning call.” Fox gave his wife a doting look. “I should have liked to better make Miss Brodure’s acquaintance.”
“She is quite perfect, I think,” Ethan beamed.
Malcolm couldn’t let that comment pass. “No one is perfect, Ethan. ’Tis unfair to place perfection upon the lady—”
“Bah!” Ethan wiped his mouth and held up a staying hand. “Ye may have your grumpy opinions, Malcolm, but I beg ye tae make them silent ones.”
