Page 21 of Miss Ellis Unleashed

“Yes, I heard about your cousin only today. I’m sorry. Were you close?”

“Not particularly. The ring was stolen from me by him, another torment for not doing as I was told.”

She frowned. “I thought you must have been close, since you were so disguised when we met on Bond Street.”

He blinked at her. “We met on Bond Street? Today?”

“Yes, earlier in the day. Don’t you remember speaking to me?”

He shook his head slowly, appalled by this, and rubbed a hand over his mouth, discovering he’d grown a beard somehow. “I appear to have lost track of a few hours.”

“Several days, I should think, judging by that horrendous stubble on your face. Drinking too much will do that to a man. My father forgot his appearance when he drank heavily.”

He winced at the comparison to her father. A drunkard and womanizer who few had missed besides his daughter. He glanced down at himself, and knew she was offended by his rumpled state, too. “My cousin dying was not why I was drinking.”

“Did someone else die, then?”

“Not exactly.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m next,” he confessed.

Her eyes widened in shock. “You’re dying?”

“No. Unfortunately not.” He sighed. “My cousin died and left a widow and two daughters to care for.” He took off the ring, annoyed with what its return symbolized. It, more than anything, heralded the loss of his freedom yet again. He could not escape his fate. He could not fool himself into believing that someone else could take his place as head of the family one day. “I’ve been drinking heavily since I heard the news.”

She nodded slowly, clearly confused by his words. “I’m sure that seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Stop being agreeable,” he said in disgust. “You don’t understand. I don’t want this.”

“I can understand only what you’ve told me.”

He growled and swung his feet off the chaise and onto the floor, while his head spun and his stomach lurched. He clutched the seat beneath him, fighting for control and irritated that he’d misplaced it in front of Daisy.

“My cousin was to inherit the dukedom. With him gone, I’m the last blood relative who can.”

“More wealth, power, and prestige for you, then,” she continued heartlessly. “Everything a young lord dreams about, I imagine. All the unmarried ladies of society fainting as you pass them by, since you dress like that these days.”

Max put his hands on his hips. “What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?”

“You look like a pirate.”

He shot to his feet, outraged, and the world spun horribly around him. But suddenly Daisy was under his arm, supporting him, as if she cared that he might fall.

“Move slowly at first,” she advised. “You’ve had quite the night, and if you fall, I will have to leave you there.”

So much for her caring about him. “I was mourning the loss of my freedom, brief as it was.”

She clucked her tongue, guiding him away from the settee. She pushed him down into his favorite chair. “Come now, Throsby, a future duke will have all the freedom in the world.”

“Not if he’s saddled with his cousin’s widow and becomes guardian to not one, but two little girls,” he said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Daisy, however, burst out laughing. “Oh, no. Not again, and double the trouble perhaps this time.”

Max shot to his feet again and headed for the front door on unsteady feet. He’d get no comfort here. No sympathy. He wouldn’t stay to hear that her pity lie with the widow and those blasted children.

Daisy chased him to the front door and grabbed his arm to halt him. “Throsby, where are you going?”