Page 71 of The Not So Perfect Duke

“Our half-sister recently discovered. She was also on the initial list.” Damon reached for the ledger, turned it to the appropriate page, and handed it back to Evercreech. “She married a friend of mine. The Duke of Watford.”

“My God. A sister married to a duke, and five more siblings besides. I cannot fathom it.”

Damon didn’t have the heart to tell him it could be dozens upon dozens. The man was clearly shocked and upset as it was.

The detective threw back a swig of scotch, then clenched his teeth at the burn. “I always hated the name Evercreech.”

“Be Mitchell Simpson going forward. The name honors your mother and the family that accepted you into their lives. There is nothing legal to do. Just change it.”

“Perhaps I will. I apologize, Your Grace, for my show of temper earlier.”

“Understandable,” Damon murmured.

Evercreech stood. “I will be in touch. I need—”

“To think on it. Take all the time you require.” Damon placed his drink on the table and stood as well. Then he held out his hand.

Evercreech took it, then quickly released it and headed for the door. Once it opened, Kingsley stepped inside.

“Kingsley, hail a hansom for the detective.”

And with that, Evercreech was gone.

“Christ,” Damon muttered, slamming the door shut.

He strode to the sideboard, topped off his scotch glass, then headed to his desk and plopped into the plush chair. He may very well never see that man again. Well, it was up to the detective if he wanted to become acquainted. Damon was not going to ruminate over it.

He shuffled through the correspondence. Which reminded him. He hadn’t written Olivia yet and would do so later tonight. Finally, he came across his mother’s letter. Special delivery; no wonder it arrived here so swiftly. Taking his letter opener, he slid it under the wax seal and removed the stationary.

My Dear Damon,

Your steward, Mr. Mason, brought me the news of your father’s death. I cannot say I was surprised, considering his lifestyle, but I was surprised to hear it was because of his heart, for I was convinced he did not have one.

And that will be the last sliver of bitterness you will hear from me regarding your father. He is gone, and I plan to move on with my life, and I suggest you do the same.

I have spoken with Tony and Sebastián, and we have decided to divide our time between Spain and England. Tony has enough that we can live quite comfortably. We will reside in a villa on his parents’ property and rent a modest town house in London. Mr. Mason has offered his services in finding us one.

Sebastián has expressed an interest in attending university in England, so that will work out all around. It seems, my darling boy, you are about to have a ready-made family descend on you shortly. By the time you get this letter, Tony and I will be married.

I had to cajole Mr. Mason to tell me about the status of the villa. I had no idea your father sold it. I have already contacted the owner and told him we will vacate as soon as possible. The furniture will be sold, and we are packing as I write this.

Mr. Mason will return to London in a few days, and we will be not far behind. I will send a cable when we are ready to depart.

I cannot wait to see you and for you to meet your brother. He is quite excited at the prospect. We have much time to make up for.

We are free, Damon. Free to live and love and banish the past.

Your loving mother

His mother was coming here. With her husband and son. Ready-made family, indeed. Damon smiled sardonically. Free to live and love and banish the past. How true.

How strange to go from an unfeeling rogue to embracing a patchwork quilt of a family. To have an older half-sister and possibly an older half-brother. And those children at Chellenhome. He would have more family than he knew what to do with.

But isn’t that what he wanted when he started this venture? He had pondered over it enough. Of course, he could use the pretext of seeing if the duke’s illegitimate offspring needed assistance, but Damon could admit now that the actual reason is he wanted some semblance of a family. A connection. He said as much earlier to Althea. Yes, he had a couple of close friends, but regardless of what some say, friends are not family. Not to Damon’s way of thinking.

He was about to attend to the rest of the correspondence when Kingsley knocked and entered the room.

“Your Grace, there is an August Donaldson to see you. He claims to be a footman at Chellenham Park.”