Rothchild pressed his lips tight. “Fine, I didn’t have much choice in the matter,” he bit out.
“Amanda packed your trunks herself.” Montague chuckled. “She couldn’t wait to see the tail end of you. Something about your incessant hovering.”
“I do not hover.” Rothchild’s nostrils flared. “I was merely showing the appropriate level of concern.”
Montague slapped him on the back. “The first child is always the most concerning.” He eyed Dunkeld. “You’ve been married about a month now. Any such concerns on your part?”
Sin stepped to the side as footmen carried past two more chairs to the dining table. He ignored the sinking feeling in his stomach. He wanted a child with Winnifred, couldn’t wait to see her round with his bairn, but couldn’t deny that the idea of a baby coming from a union where only one parent loved was like a punch to the gut.
Which was nonsense. Most marriages weren’t love matches and the children that resulted from them had no ill-effects. “Perhaps you should at least meet my wife before seeing her pregnant.” He searched out her gaze and nodded, beckoning to her with his fingers.
Winnifred popped to her feet and circled the table, looking relieved to be free of her conversation.
Her skirt brushed his boot as she stood close. “Husband. Judging by your reaction, might I presume these are friends of yours?”
He placed his hand on her lower back. “Indeed. I present the Duke of Montague and the Earl of Rothchild, two of the veriest blackguards I’ve ever known.”
She pressed her lips together, but the edges curled up. Sighing, she turned to his friends. “I feel like it should be my duty to apologize for my husband, but since you’ve known him longer than I have, I presume you are accustomed to his unique manner of speech. Welcome to Kenmore.” She gave a short curtsey as Montague and Rothchild bowed. “Your wives have not accompanied you?”
“They wished to, but were unable at this time,” Montague said. “You and Dunkeld will have to visit us on your next trip south.”
“Speaking of,” Rothchild said in a low voice, “we bear an important message. Can you escape your dinner party for a few minutes?”
Silverware clattered against porcelain. Winnifred glanced over her shoulder and back at his friends. “I’m afraid dinner has just ended. The gentlemen are retiring to the east drawing room.” She sighed. “And I suppose I must lead the women to the parlor.”
Sin squeezed her hip. Winnifred wanted their home as empty of guests as he did. He bowed his head to whisper in her ear. “Almost over. We just have to get through the games and the ball tomorrow and then Kenmore will be our own again.”
She smiled up at him. “I can’t wait.” To his friends: “Gentlemen, I’m glad to have finally met you. I hope we can speak more when the gentlemen join us in the parlor.” Turning, she squared her shoulders and marched off, like a general to a battle.
“She was not what I was expecting,” Rothchild said. “Much more forthright than is conventional. I like her.”
Sin drew his gaze from her retreating hips. “I’m well pleased with my circumstances.” The men filtered out of the dining room, and Sin’s shoulders rounded. Duty called. “Shall we adjourn for some whisky or do you want to eat first and meet me in the drawing room later? I can have the kitchen send up more plates.”
Montague nodded at Lord Brandon as he passed through the doors. “We had a basket in the carriage. Let’s go play nice with the other gentlemen and we can have our private conversation later.”
Sin led them to the drawing room, his shoulders tensing when he spied Abercairn seated in his favorite chair. The only one in the room sturdy enough to not make him feel like he was about to topple over. He gritted his teeth as he trudged to the sideboard and poured himself and his friends a drink.
“What’s the lay of the land?” Rothchild leaned against the wall and swirled his whisky. He looked the epitome of bored elegance, but his eyes were hard as they flitted from face to face.
Sin raised his glass to cover his mouth. “Abercairn has been implicated in the recent riots but is as cagey as a sodding sneak.” He gritted his teeth. “I’ve learned nothing from him this past week. He never struck me as a Jacobite, but due to conversations with his wife, Winnifred suspects it is so.” Thank heavens she had more luck loosening tongues or else this house party would have been a complete waste of time. “I want to know the reasons behind his involvement. And put a stop to it, of course.”
“Of course.” Montague cracked his neck. “Liverpool asked us to give you whatever aid you needed.”
Sin squeezed his friend’s shoulder. “And it is most appreciated. Although you have already provided the best aid possible. Your shipments of grain and produce have been life-savers to my people. It is something I can never repay.”
“And as my friend, you never have to.” Montague raised an eyebrow. “Besides, what is the point of being the dissident duke who sullies himself in trade if not to help those I care about?”
“Charming as this show of amiability is,” Rothchild said dryly, “it gets us no closer to a solution. How do you propose to investigate Abercairn? As a member of parliament, we can’t just accuse the man.”
“I’m trying to make him think I’m supportive of independence.” Sin pursed his lips. “Which I am, but I want it done in the proper fashion and time.”
Montague’s lips twitched. “Youare attempting a ruse?” He shared a look with Rothchild. “I think we’ve come at the right time.”
Sin pushed away from the wall. “I might be the bruiser of the group, but I can be stealthy when required.”
Rothchild smothered a snort. “Have you searched his rooms yet?”
“Of course.” Sin glared at Abercairn as the man threw his head back and laughed as though he hadn’t a care in the world. “My man, Dugald, found nothing.” He turned his back on the room and huddled closer to his friends. “Summerset was to search his Glasgow residence in his absence but I have yet to receive any report.”
