“Sorcha, this is Mr. Tom Grayson, a friend of mine. Tom, this is Miss McAllen, my... niece.”
Xander was already a duke by the time I met him. Intellectually, I knew he had an elder brother who had passed, but I’d never met the man. It was easy to forget his existence except for how his passing affected Xander.
“Why did you not say you had a niece in Scotland?” I knew he didn’t owe me an explanation, but it would’ve been nice all the same.
“That is also a long story.”
“Did ye already eat? There’s a bit of bread left if ye wanted to break yer fast.” Miss McAllen gestured behind her to where the breakfast area was presumably located.
“That would be nice.” It was more for lack of any idea what to say than desire for food.
I followed her down a hall until we reached the kitchens where two other men were seated and having a lively debate over the merits of blackberry jam over strawberry. One was a tall man, with a medium build and light hair and a heavy accent. The other was thin, with dark hair and a hooked nose and the unmistakable put-upon accent of a current or future butler.
The kitchen itself was spacious, with fine equipment—though it was rusted and warped with disuse. I settled at a stool while one man, presumably the valet, brought over a slice of toast and two jams—clearly I was meant to break a tie. With the sole purpose of causing mischief in mind, I took a bite of plain bread. I couldn’t identify them by sight anyway, the color wastoo similar. It wouldn’t be a fair assessment. Both men grumbled as Xander took a seat at my side, sliding a cup of tea across the scored table to me.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“What are ye doing here?” Miss McAllen demanded, apparently no longer content to feign propriety. She was certainly a relation of Lady Davina.
“Eating toast.”
“And?”
“Drinking tea.”
“Ugh!” She stomped her foot and I stifled a laugh.
“I heard Scotland is nice this time of year.”
“No ye didnae.”
I took another bite, my gaze flicking over to Xander. While my welcome hadn’t been everything I dreamed of, it was better than I’d hoped. My blood still thrummed with interest, even as I broke my fast. His expression was one of challenge—he wasn’t going to provide Miss McAllen an answer, that was certain.
“I wanted to see the country.”
“For how long?” Xander asked, significance heavy in the tenor of his voice.
I shrugged. “As long as Scotland will have me.”
“I dinnae know what yer on aboot,” Miss McAllen interjected.
“So the house?”
Xander’s lips slid to one side, pursing there. “That is Sorcha’s doing. She and her mother kept my payments for the best part of a decade.”
“Truly? Pulled the wool over Will and Kit as well? They’ll not be pleased about that.”
“Oh, I hadn’t thought—have there been any issues concerning Davina? I left Mr. Summers in charge of her affairs.”
“No, at least not before I left. I’d been helping Kit with the offices while Will was… otherwise occupied. I have not heard a word about Lady Davina.”
“Good, good.”
“Do you have a plan for repairs?”
Xander collapsed onto his forearms, with an exhausted thump.
“So, they’re going well, then?”
