Ceana sat on the far end, her father opposite, and throughout the course of the fine meal, she said little.
David watched her occasionally, wondering at that. His time with her thus far had proven her to be quick with her tongue and just as quick with her temper. Yet there she sat, practically docile in her behavior.
But as he watched, he noticed small things that gave her away. A slight furrow appeared between her fair brows on occasion. Her mouth tightened into a thin line. A muscle in her jaw ticked. The pace of her chewing slowed. Her neck tensed.
She never looked at him, not even once.
She didn’t seem to look at anybody much, though her eyes widened a great deal at her plate, usually when someone at the table said something extraordinary. David got the impression that she was biting her tongue quite a lot, and probably with some force.
Interesting.
“Your Grace,” Sir Andrew said suddenly, breaking into David’s thoughts. “How did you find Dovenbard? It’s been some time since it’s been opened up, and with only minimal staff . . .”
David gave him as indulgent a smile as he could manage. “It is perfectly sufficient, Sir Andrew. The staff had notice of my coming, and a full staff is not necessary. It’s only me, after all, and I do not require much.”
A scoffing sound came from the other end of the table, and he glanced over to see Ceana once more staring at her plate with widened eyes, her mouth curving.
He had the sneaking suspicion she was giving him quite the retort in her mind.
He’d have loved to hear it.
“Something to add, Ceana lass?” Sir Andrew asked with interest, eyes fixed on his daughter.
She looked up with a perfectly innocent expression. “Not really, Papa.” She turned to David, now positively regal. “It’s just so refreshing to hear of a duke who does not stand on ceremony in his own household.” She gave David a simpering smile as she took another bite of potato.
David smiled back at her, his London societal training coming out as his usual mask slid into place. “I never bother with ceremony unless I have to, Miss Shaw. Far too much trouble.”
Laughter rang up and down the table, except, naturally, from Ceana. She only narrowed her eyes, her smile turning cooler.
He liked that smile, though he knew she had not intended him to.
Which, he had to admit, was one of the reasons he liked it.
But it was a fine smile in its own right.
And he smiled back.
Ceana blinked once, never breaking her composure. “But surely ceremony has its place, Your Grace, or else the hereditary peers like yourself might lose all position and influence.”
“That’s not ceremony, Miss Shaw,” David said easily, dabbing the corner of his mouth with a serviette. “That is tradition and aristocracy. Ceremony dictates formalities and polite behavior under certain circumstances. I should know; I am forced to behave with such far too often.”
“Yes, and I feel so sorry for you,” she replied, her sarcasm heavy.
“Easy, lass,” Hamish Shaw said with an uneasy smile as he sat to her left. “You must tread carefully, for His Grace might not appreciate insolence.”
Ceana turned to him with a raised brow. “No? He seems quite familiar with it himself.”
David bit his own tongue at that, not in any way affronted, as everybody seemed to fear.
Silent Ceana was a rare beauty, it was true, but Ceana when she was on her mettle? Incomparable.
Yet if the looks up and down the table were any indication, he was the only one who thought so.
“I am familiar with it,” David broke in, fearing someone else might scold Ceana in her own home for merely speaking her mind. “I was born with a great deal, and, much to the dismay of my parents and several nannies, I employed those skills frequently and with great effect.” He tsked to himself, shaking his head. “Not very good behavior, I’m afraid, and yet I’ve never been cured of it, alas.”
Ceana looked at him with interest, then. “So not all dukes are pompous, stuffed-up prigs with a heightened sense of themselves?”
David smiled at her still, faintly wondering just what it was about him that she objected to. “Hard to say, Miss Shaw. How many dukes do you know?”
He’d caught her there, and her face tightened as she struggled to come up with a proper retort.
“I think now would be the perfect time for us to break with the company,” Sir Andrew announced, rising from the table and prompting everyone else to do the same, except Ceana. “Hamish, Bruce, Your Grace, if you’ll all follow me.”
David inclined his head politely at Ceana, who still seemed to be chewing on her words, and turned away from the table with the others, proceeding out into the hall toward Sir Andrew’s study.
“I apologize if my niece offended you, Your Grace,” Hamish murmured as he walked alongside David. “She’s always had a mind and tongue of her own.”
David gave the scraggly and rotund man a wry look. “It is not for you to make apologies for her, Mr. Shaw. I took no offense, and Miss Shaw has a right to speak her mind in her own house.”
“But not afore you, sir.” Hamish shook his head with a sigh. “Ceana should know better. My brother is in a right state of things.”
“How’s that, sir?” David asked, unwillingly intrigued.
Hamish looked up at his brother, still leading them on. “The inheritance of the baronetcy and Ravensmere is in question. He wants it to go to Ceana, but if she canna prove herself worthy of it, then it will have to fall into the hands of my Ewan.”
“And should that not prove fortunate for you?”
David suddenly found himself on the receiving end of a rather impressive glower. “Not at all, sir. My son is as useless as he is my own. I’ve no qualms with him taking on my lands; they are small and manageable under the guidance of a capable estate man. But Ravensmere? A baronetcy?” Hamish scoffed. “It may only be a land gentry title, sir, but—”
“The responsibilities of the landed gentry do not differ so greatly from the Peers of the Realm,” David said. “You need not excuse it.”
They’d reached the study by then, and Sir Andrew gestured for them all to take seats as he moved to the sideboard. “Whisky, Your Grace?”
David barely had the time to nod before a glass of the stuff was thrust into his hands, as well as those of the other two men.
Sir Andrew poured himself a glass and situated himself behind his desk, forgoing any sort of proper posture as he sat in his grand chair. “Now, Your Grace,” he began, his thick brogue rolling proudly on, “what can we help you understand about this place you now find yourself?”
It was odd, but Sir Andrew seemed somehow more suspicious and less friendly than he had been only hours before. There was nothing David could call hostility or even coldness, but he had the sense that the older man was sizing him up for some reason.
He’d seen that look every day of his life from the true Duke of Ashcombe, so he was well familiar with it and knew precisely how he would usually respond. Which was why he would be much better behaved this time, given this was Scotland and he had no need to raise anyone’s temper.
David smiled politely at his host. “I am given to understand from Mr. Gordon, my estate agent, that you have also been suffering with the adjustment to sheep farming. Being unfamiliar with the state of affairs, I thought you might advise me, one landowner to another.”
Sir Andrew returned his smile. “You did, did you?”
“Was I wrong?” David queried as his fingers rubbed absently along the glass he held. “I’d hate to be presumptuous.”
“Why not take up the matter with your esteemed agent, sir?” Sir Andrew asked in return. “He will be more familiar with the matter as it concerns you.”
David frowned. “I have only been in the area two days, Sir Andrew, and have not as yet made a full study of matters.”
“You may wish to do that first, Your Grace,” Sir Andrew told him plainly. “
Until you understand things, it will not help you to discuss it with us.”
It was as if the man was determined to be unhelpful, and it was all David could to do avoid outright scowling. “How can I understand without insight from those who may be in a situation similar to my own, sir?”
Sir Andrew made a face of consideration at that and sipped his whisky.
“I was given the basics of the situation when I first met with Mr. Gordon,” David continued, “and when you called on me this morning and offered your hospitality, I thought I’d start with matters here. I assure you, I intend to investigate further the longer I am here.”
“And how long might that be, Your Grace?” Sir Andrew pressed, his eyes glinting.
David offered a tight smile. “As long as it takes, sir.”
“To understand the situation? Or to address whatever the situation is?”
What was this, an inquisition? Surely his father never had to endure meetings such as this. But then, his father looked the part of a duke and had more practice acting as one. And Sir Andrew, at least, knew full well that David was not a duke at all.
He took a chance and adopted the sort of expression he often mocked his father for. “Ideally both, Sir Andrew.”
Sir Andrew nodded slowly, then glanced over at Mr. Bruce, who was one of the most imposing Scots David had ever encountered, more inclined to stab a man than to smile at him. “What do you say, Bruce?”
Mr. Bruce shrugged a large shoulder, his neatly kept facial hair obstructing his mouth. “I find no reason to object to his logic.”
David looked at him in mild surprise. “Was my logic in question?”
“You’re only verra young, Your Grace,” Mr. Bruce replied in his gruff tone. “No offense intended. And you’re English and a peer. It’s no’ likely for you to understand life in the Highlands, for us or for our tenants.”
“I’d never pretend to,” David told him easily. “Which is why I asked the question in the first place. How can I, a landowner responsible for the lives of so many, hope to make any sort of difference to benefit any of us if I am not in possession of the appropriate information and understanding?”
Hamish cleared his throat briefly. “It’s a fair point, Andrew. Stop putting off the lad and give him something to help him.” Hamish looked at David with some embarrassment. “Apologies, Your Grace. We didna mean to infer that you were a youth.”
David waved that off. “I am young, Mr. Shaw, and that’s not a secret. But I refuse to let that be an excuse.”
“I can appreciate that, sir,” Mr. Bruce chuckled. “I’ll tell ye, Your Grace, that my profits are down, particularly with the sheep. I canna bring myself to care over much, seeing as there was such a fuss over bringing them in the first place.”
“Why a fuss?” David asked with a frown. “Was there a problem with the sheep?”
The Scots in the room all looked at each other, then at him in disbelief. “You don’t know?” Hamish asked, looking disgruntled for the first time that evening.
Sensing there was something significant that he was missing, David opted for the most honest lie he had ever told. “I have only recently inherited,” he explained, looking as innocent as possible, “and my father did not share information about his estates and their affairs with anyone. I am only now beginning to realize how little I know.”
Sir Andrew raised a brow that told David the baronet was far more interested in David’s answers than he’d previously thought. He didn’t know the man well, but given that he was Ceana’s father, it was entirely possible, even probable, that there was a surprising sense of humor beneath the gruff exterior.
It could also be that the man saw this as an opportunity to toy with a man as vulnerable in his position as David—the way a predatory cat might play with a mouse.
“We’re all struggling some,” Sir Andrew finally admitted, though without much concern. “Not to any extremes, but some. We make do as best as we can, and we all have to make adjustments, considering.”
“Considering what?” David asked the room, frustrated with their lack of information and advice.
Sir Andrew stared at him for a long moment, his mouth slightly curved. “I think, Your Grace, rather than tell you all, you ought to be shown what the state of affairs in the Highlands is at this time. Until you see it for yourself and hear it from others, we have nothing much to add.”
This was going nowhere at a breakneck pace. “But you all are landowners and face the same struggles as I do.”
“And it’s for each landowner to decide how best to proceed with his own tenants and farms.” Sir Andrew shrugged and drained his whisky. “Until you understand what your situation is, Your Grace, and what your own needs are, you needn’t concern yourself with ours.”
Mr. Bruce looked unsettled by Sir Andrew’s words, but he said nothing and sipped his own whisky, while Hamish sat in silence, his expression blank.
Sensing this was not an argument worth having, David sat back in his chair and took a drink himself. “Very well. Where do you recommend I start, Sir Andrew? With my education of the Highlands, that is. I have enough to be getting on with for education of my own affairs.”
“Nothing too arduous,” Sir Andrew said with a wave of his hands. “A proper guide will enable you to gain all you need know, Your Grace. Spend a day or two, perhaps three, with someone capable and informed, and you’ll glean all you need.”
“And you have such a guide to recommend?” David inquired mildly, knowing the old codger would certainly have one in mind already.
Sir Andrew nodded, chuckling to himself. “Aye, Your Grace, I do.”
David waited a beat, and when Sir Andrew said nothing, he gestured with some irritation. “Who is it, then?”
“My Ceana lass.”
Mr. Bruce had been taking a drink of whisky and suddenly choked on it, coughing and sputtering, while Hamish laughed hard.
“Ceana?” Hamish repeated, nearly breathless from his laughter. “Are ye mad?”
“She knows the lands and the people,” Sir Andrew told them all, shrugging a shoulder. “She has need of proving herself if she wants to inherit, and her impudence needs curbing. Why not Ceana?”
Why not? David could give him a hundred and one reasons why Ceana Shaw should not be the one to show him about the Highlands—his health and his sanity being two of them.
The trouble was he could give one very good reason why she should be the one to do it, and that reason was a better reason than all of the ones stacked against it.
He wanted her to.
He liked the idea very much, in fact.
David found himself smiling and nodded at his host. “Very well, Sir Andrew. Shall we commence with my educational tour tomorrow?”
Sir Andrew grinned outright, no doubt finding this all a great joke. “Tomorrow it is, Your Grace.”
“For heaven’s sake, Andrew, pour him another dram.” Hamish laughed, gesturing at the sideboard. “If he’s to endure Ceana’s company for three days, the lad’s going to be in need of it.”
“Aye,” Mr. Bruce chimed in. “We’re all going to need it. Give us all another round, then.”
David laughed with the rest, but said little in response.
Ceana Shaw was going to be livid when she found out, which meant that tomorrow was going to be exceptionally entertaining.
If he survived it.
“And there was this one tutor, Mr. Caldwell, who was such a bore. My sister, Diana, hated him, and she didn’t even have to endure lessons at his hand—”
“And this is the beginning of Mr. Bruce’s land,” Ceana interrupted loudly, her patience already at an end, though they’d only been riding an hour. She hadn’t thought it possible, but the Duke of Ashcombe was more annoying and tiresome than all the men of her acquaintance put together. “His tenants make up most of the farmers in the land, though his land is not half so expansive as your own.”
Her tone had sharpened by the end, and Ashcombe gave he
r a querying look. “My lands, Ceana Shaw? What of your own lands? You cannot use that tone with me and leave yourself out of this.”
Ceana scowled at that and sat as tall as she could in her saddle. “Our lands rival yours, Your Grace, in size and in quality. There’s nothing better on your side of that fence than on ours.”
“What fence?” he asked, seeming surprised. “There’s a fence?”
Ceana rolled her eyes with a groan. “Are you really such an incompetent landowner that you don’t recall building a fence to keep your wretched sheep in? Closing off your land from everybody else’s and preventing the locals to cross the lands the way they’ve done for generations—all for the sake of progress?”
The duke stared at her for a long moment, somehow truly at a loss. “Forget your spite for three seconds, Ceana Shaw, and pretend I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I don’t need three seconds for that.”
“Closing off the lands,” he repeated as if she hadn’t spoken. “I take it for the sheep?”
Ceana gave him an incredulous look. “You really don’t know?”
“I really don’t.” He shrugged, looking helpless. “I inherited this mess from my father; none of it was my making. I recently received notice of the trouble and came up to see what I could do to remedy things. Why do you think I’m out riding in the Highlands with you?”
That was a fair point, and one she hadn’t considered before. “I thought . . .” She grunted softly and nudged her horse on. “I thought you had somehow convinced my father to show you about just to spite me.”
Ashcombe chuckled softly, and Ceana hated how pleasant the sound was. “Unfortunately, I am not that conniving. This was entirely your father’s idea. He seemed to think I couldn’t discuss matters properly with him and the others without having a full scope of things, and who better to give that to me than you?”
“That sounds like my father.” Ceana shook her head. “He has a strange sense of humor to go along with the rest of his eccentricities.”
“He seemed to think you would be the perfect choice,” Ashcombe went on. “Why would that be? Do you take an interest in his matters?”
Falling for a Duke (Timeless Regency Collection Book 8) Page 3