“All the dates fit!” She spread her notes out on the desktop above the ledgers. “The duke was born in 1764, which would have made him just thirteen when Ffion began to work here. He would have been twenty when your grandfather dismissed her!”
“And?”
“And that coincides with his outraged winter in Wales. He hadn’t reached his majority when he came back and still ‘married the bride the old man picked out in the end.’” She slapped her notes again. “I’ll lay money he went after Ffion.”
It all made sense, he supposed, but he still couldn’t see the significance. “So he had a fling with the kitchen maid and rekindled it later.”
“But what if the affair never ended?”
“So he kept a mistress? Half the married gentlemen of thetonkeep a mistress.” At Vee’s glare Giles pulled a face. “I am not suggesting that I will, for my heart is pure and my intentionshonorable and your sister has thoroughly ruined me for all other women—but it is hardly a surprise the duke did when he loathed his duchess. I fail to see how this changes anything. I am still his by-blow whichever way you look at it.”
“You’ve got visitors apparently.” Dalton limped in without knocking with his customary insolence and still shrugging on his coat. “And they’ve brought luggage according to that gorgon Townsend, who is now in the full throes of a conniption because they apparently need both breakfast and rooms and you neglected, once again, to tell her that you had invited company.”
“If I haven’t invited anyone, who the blazes are they?”
Dalton shrugged as if that important detail hadn’t crossed his mind. “All I know is I had my bacon ripped out of my hands and was told to fetch you.”
“Who calls at bloody seven in the morning?”
His surly butler shrugged again. “Ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do. All I know is I’ve been sent to fetch you and then carry up all their bleedin’ luggage because it’s the footman’s day off.”
“Forget the luggage and ready the carriage for the ladies.” As bizarre as it was that the authorities would have brought luggage, Giles wasn’t prepared to take the chance. The luggage might well be Gervais’s, with the scoundrel standing by outside to see his nephew dragged away in irons before he took possession of the house.
As if she read his mind, Diana’s hands went straight to her hips. “We’ve been over this and I am not leaving.”
“And if she isn’t going, neither am I.” Vee folded her arms, the defiant tilt of her chin a mirror image of her sister’s. “Somebody needs to protect Diana’s virtue.”
“First.” He jabbed his finger in the direction of Diana. “Yes, you are and that is that, and second.” He stabbed it toward Vee. “I am afraid that horse has bolted.” He was about to instruct them to stay put while he investigated, when they barged past with Dalton in tow.
“It had better not be Gervais!” Diana was on the warpath, her fists clenched and ready to swing.
“Or that cocky idiot Galahad!” Vee wrestled a pike from a suit of armor without breaking her stride while Dalton locked his mangled hand around his pistol and Giles had to sprint to keep up. Like Amazons they burst through the drawing room door ready to do battle on his behalf and stopped dead.
Because it was neither the authorities nor his evil uncle who awaited him. It was blasted Mr. and Mrs. Regis and their stuttering daughter Dahlia who stared at the weapons wide-eyed while her teacup clattered into its saucer.
Giles wrestled in front and gave the others a warning glare before he forced a smile. “Mr. Regis. Mrs. and Miss Regis.” As Vee tried and failed to hide the six-foot Tudor pike behind her back, he tried to make a joke out of it. “My apologies for the unorthodox welcome but we had an intruder the other evening and it is better to be safe than sorry. What an unexpected andearlysurprise.”
“The early bird catches the worm, Your Grace, and as we overnighted a mere fifteen miles away at an inn that failed to meet our high expectations, we thought you would not mind us encroaching on your hospitality for breakfast as well.”
“As well as what?”
“Our weekend visit. You did invite us, after all. At our convenience as I recall.”
It was on the tip of Giles’s tongue to tell Mr. Regis that he hadinvited himself before he told him in the strongest possible terms that now was not the least bit convenient—but before he spoke, his upstart of a butler stepped forward.
“Miss Dahlia.” Beside him, Dalton sighed the name like a benediction. “How lovely to see you again.”
Giles blinked at him in shock, then was stunned to see Dahlia smiling soppily back. “Hello, Dalton. How are you?” Miraculously, she managed to say that without a single stutteredumoreror frantic glance to her father.
“All the better for seeing you, Miss Dahlia.” It might well be Giles’s imagination—or his distinct lack of sleep—but there seemed to be a frisson in the air. Clearly Diana sensed it, too, as when their eyes met, she cocked one dark brow in question. “And good day to you, too, Mr. Regis. Mrs. Regis.” Dalton bowed his head politely, his only eye never leaving Dahlia’s smiling face—and it was actually a rather pretty face when she smiled. “Allow me to show you to your rooms.” He swept his arm toward the door and glared at Giles as if this unwelcome visit was a fait accompli simply because the insubordinate rascal had decreed it. “You have a good hour to freshen up before breakfast is served.”
As they all followed him, Giles called him back to hiss in his ear. “They cannot stay!”
“I am merely getting them out of the way while we formulate a plan, Your Grace, seeing as we currently don’t appear to have one.”
“Or we could simply tell them to leave, which is what I am going to do while you ready the carriage as instructed. Because I can assure you that I do have a plan.”
“We’ve been through this, Giles.” Of course Diana had the ears of a bat and took umbrage at that whispered exchange, so heclosed his eyes and prayed for strength before he put his manly foot down.
