“Everyone calls her Dillie.” Eloise shook her head and sighed. “Goodness, what were her parents thinking when they named her? Anyway, the twins are the youngest daughters and still unmarried. There’s Rose Farthingale, the eldest, who is married to Julian Emory, the present Viscount Chatham. Laurel is married to my grandson, Graelem Dayne, who is next in line to the baronial estates of Moray. Daisy recently married my other grandson, Gabriel Dayne, who was made Earl of Blackthorne as reward for his bravery in battle.”
A lot of fancy titles, Ewan thought, but are they decent in their hearts? He was acquainted with Graelem, liked and admired him. “Do what you think best, Eloise. I trust your judgment.”
He leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek before heading for the door. “I’m grateful for all you’ve done for me and my sister. I do no’ know how we can ever repay your kindness.”
A blush crept up her lightly wrinkled cheeks. “Nonsense, dear boy. That’s what old friends are for, and I do mean old.” she said with a chuckle. “Our families have known each other for decades. I shudder to think how many!”
He bussed her cheek again and left.
Papers in hand, he descended the front steps in a hurry, for he had much to do before the day was through. Eloise had arranged for her carriage to take him to his grandfather’s residence, Lotheil Court, and even allowed Jasper into the gleaming conveyance for the ride.
“You’d better no’ piss on the fine leather,” he warned his happily slobbering companion as they drove away. Jasper ignored him, instead poking his head out of the window and whimpering as they turned through the gate onto Chipping Way. “What now, ye big looby?”
Ewan glanced out and saw Lily, now wearing a simple white gown with a peach shawl over it, searching for something by the puddle into which she’d fallen. She looked as tempting as a peach ice on a hot summer’s day.
“Bollix. Her spectacles,” he suddenly realized, reaching into his breast pocket and starting to instruct the driver to bring the carriage to a halt so he might return them. But a lens popped out as he withdrew the spectacles, and so did the tiny screws attaching the nose piece.
“Jasper, ye looby.” He’d have to replace those too.
CHAPTER 3
EWAN’S GRANDFATHER summoned him into his library shortly after Ewan had settled into the quarters assigned to him. “How do you like your rooms?” the old man asked, not bothering to rise from his chair. The blasted monstrosity was as big as a throne and situated behind a large mahogany desk in the center of the imposing library. A silver candelabra with scented candles sat atop the desk, gleaming as though new and never used, although Ewan knew it had been acquired by an ancestor centuries ago.
Mahogany shelves filled with books ran from floor to soaring ceiling and covered all four walls. An exquisite burgundy carpet of oriental design covered much of the polished wood floor. The library and the man seated squarely in the center of it exuded wealth and power.
“Does it matter what I think?” It did not escape Ewan’s notice that the old man had failed to give him permission to sit in either of the two chairs placed in front of the desk. He considered taking a seat anyway, but decided against it. He wasn’t planning on staying in his grandfather’s company a moment longer than was necessary. No point in getting comfortable. When he challenged his grandfather, it would be over something more important than the offer of a seat he didn’t want in the first place.
“I suppose not. But this was your father’s home, and can be yours if you’ll allow it. You may not like me, but I’m your grandfather, and there’s no denying the family resemblance.”
To Ewan’s disappointment, the old man did bear a striking resemblance to Ewan’s father… as did Ewan. The duke was not as broad in the shoulders as he was, or as his father had been. However, the old man must have been formidable in his earlier days. Ewan noticed the portrait of the duke as a young man hanging over the fireplace mantel and inwardly shuddered. Damn. He could have been gazing into a mirror.
He studied his grandfather. The duke still had a full head of hair, though now a snowy white. His stern lips had yet to crack a smile.
In truth, Ewan wasn’t smiling either.
“I put you in your father’s bedchamber. Thought it might please you. Margaret will have the rooms next to yours. You’ll both join me in the summer salon for breakfast each morning at eight. Promptly. Do as you wish the rest of the day.” He rose and stepped around the desk to approach Ewan, his movements showing none of the frailty often associated with old age. “Is there anything you need?”