“I am the new Duke of Stonebridge,” the man replied simply, in that same commanding tone.
“And I shall say again that it is impossible,” she insisted, her heart thundering in her chest, her palms clammy with unease. “There are no living heirs.”
“There’s a very elaborate line of inheritance,” he said, as he slowly reached up to remove his hat. Something a gentleman would have done at the door.
He is no heir to this place; he has no manners.It was a weak argument, but it was all Anna had.
“A solicitor found me,” the man added, and Anna’s heart promptly sank into the pit of her writhing stomach.
After everything Mr. Phipps—the solicitor who had so diligently navigated all the trials and hurdles of inheritance following her husband’s death—had said, it seemed he had betrayed her. He was the one, while she had been worried about where she would go and how she would survive, who had said,“There is no one more deserving, Your Grace. You are a duchess; you must act as such. This house is yours now.”
A short year and a half of peace inside these walls; that was all she had been allowed, and now the dream would end suddenly and rather harshly.
“Well, you are speaking to theDuchessof Stonebridge,” she said crisply, straightening her posture, raising a defiant look to the man as he finally revealed himself.
A bruised, grazed hand swept through wavy dark hair that reached his shoulders, damp from the rain. His other hand was wrapped in a bandage.
Is he a brawler?His knuckles certainly suggested as much.
Perhaps thirty or so, his strong jaw was unshaven, a shadow of stubble tracing along the sharp line of bone and around a full mouth, now curled in disapproval. Above, a fine, sloping nose and defined cheekbones, but it was his eyes that momentarily made her forget what she had been about to say next. Eyes so dark they almost appeared black.
“This ismyhome,” she continued, pausing to clear her suddenly dry throat. “So, you can take your counterfeit claim and your assertions elsewhere. I do not appreciate the attempt to swindle me, nor the interruption.”
She was surprised by the strength in her voice. Then again, thiswasa matter that called for determination, for she would not be uprooted from the life that she had worked so hard to cultivate for herself. Certainly not by some usurper who could not even remember to remove his hat at the door.
“Swindle?” The man arched an eyebrow. “I think not, lass. Ye see, I own this home and everything in it, by law. There are deeds and declarations and, as I mentioned, a complicated line of inheritance.”
He moved forward, and Katherine immediately darted out of his path, pressing herself flat against the wall as he passed by. He stood well over six feet, his broad shoulders made even broader by the coachman’s greatcoat he wore. Glimpsed between the open sides of his coat, his powerful thighs were barely contained by tight tartan trousers as he strode toward Anna.
Her throat bobbed as she forced herself to hold his gaze; she wouldnotbe distracted by those muscular thighs, nor the casually unbuttoned waistcoat, nor the open collar of his shirt that left a deep triangle of sun-browned skin far too exposed for polite company. The man was not even wearing a cravat! How could he possibly be the Duke of Stonebridge?
“Set yer eyes on that if ye won’t believe what comes out of me mouth,” he said roughly, as he drew folded papers from his greatcoat pocket and tossed them down onto the nearest side table.
Anna glanced at them, half-considering tossing them in the fire and telling this… rugged interloper to be on his way. But then she saw the signature, looping elegantly at the bottom of the top page: the solicitor’s signature. One she recognized from all the documents he had signed while helpingherkeep her home.
She approached the side table and picked up the offending papers, her eyes rapidly skimming the death warrant of her peace and happiness.
Forgeries? No… I do not think they can be.
Her heart dropped further into the roiling depths of her stomach as she fought to keep her breath even, her chest cinching tighter with every word she read. Theyweredeeds to Stonebridge. Theyweredocuments of inheritance, devoid of her name. And, just as he’d said, there was also the inclusion of the rather complicated line of inheritance that had brought this man to her door.
“Mr. Miller!” Anna shouted, her voice strained.
When the butler didn’t immediately appear, she glanced at Katherine, whose pale and anxious face reflected her own.
“Katherine, might you fetch your brother for me?”
Katherine dipped her head. “Of course, Your Grace. At once, Your Grace.”
The young woman scurried out with her head down, refusing to look at the imposing man who was now wandering around the drawing room as if he reallydidown it.
“It’s not so drafty as where I came from,” he said in that curious accent of his, reminding her of an acquaintance she had once had from Edinburgh.
Anna settled onto the settee with her arms crossed and her legs neatly tucked, one ankle behind the other. She wouldn’t dignify anything he said with a response, not when he had come to take everything away from her.
I can still fight this. A document is nothing. I, too, have documents that declare this manor mine.They were not as strong, legally, as this man’s, but her willpower was far superior. She was certain of that, for she had so much to lose if she simply sat back and let him take it all.
A few minutes later, the butler, Paul Miller, strode into the room. He was neither as tall nor as broad as this Scottish invader, but they were of similar age, and with the duchess’s future at stake, the butler was clearly more than ready to be the David to this Goliath.
