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south of here.”

“Thank you. No one has thought to introduce us yet.”

“No one ever does. He’s an amiable old fellow. Widowed. His children are grown. The man who just left was Lord Thwaite. His heir is expected to arrive in time for the wedding, I hear. He’s to stand up with Rafferty as best man.”

“Where is Thwaite’s property located?”

“A little closer. You could say his property is nearly a neighbor to my father’s estate.”

A few things he’d heard clicked into place inside his head. “Is it because of the Hawthorne land’s location, that it’s not?”

“Yes, that’s right. I’m surprised that you would realize that.”

Jeremy shrugged. “I must have overheard something about it earlier, I suppose.”

Lord Samuel was quiet for a moment and then he whispered, “What exactly did you hear?”

Jeremy glanced at the duke’s second son, the scoundrel spare, and shrugged. “Thwaite mentioned a plan for expansion.”

“Not with the Hawthornes’ land?”

Jeremy held his stare. “It’s what he hinted at.”

Lord Samuel scowled fiercely. “Couldn’t wait till the old fellow was buried before making a move on the widow.”

“I don’t think he’s done anything yet,” Jeremy admitted. “He mentioned a lack of funds.”

“Thwaite has been eyeing that property for years. Excuse me. I think I should call on the new widow. My children have no doubt ventured there again.”

Lord Samuel whispered in his father’s ear and then strode off out of the room.

The duke frowned after him, but then shrugged. “Do you know Hawthorne could always best me with a bow? Devilishly clever shot with it. Mind you, he couldn’t shoot down game with anything else. Remember that time we all went out and he shot off the tip of the tallest tree on my land?”

“We were just boys then,” murmured Lord Milo, the duke’s heir.

“You and I tried to be just like him that summer,” Whitfield added with a smile.

Lord Milo frowned. “Didn’t Hawthorne keep that bit of tree as a souvenir?”

The duke nodded. “Yes, it’s in his study to this day. We always have a good laugh whenever I visit him.” The duke’s lips pressed together firmly. “When I had…”

Whitfield clapped the duke on his shoulder when it appeared Stapleton had become too emotional to continue speaking. That had happened a few times in the past day. Whitfield raised a glass high. “To our friend and his poor aim with a rifle.”

“To Hawthorne.”

Glasses were raised, drunk from, and then silence, the gentlemen each falling into their own introspections. Lord Milo left to circulate with the remaining guests until they departed.

When Lord Letterford finally took his leave, Whitfield raised his head and stared at Jeremy. “This must have put a damper on your visit to the countryside.”

“Not at all. I mean to say that if I am any kind of gentleman, I should support my lady’s family in good times and in bad.”

The duke turned to Whitfield. “He speaks well, doesn’t he?”

“Indeed.”

Rafferty cleared his throat. “Has Letterford spoken to you yet?”

“No.”

“He will.” Rafferty cast a look in Jeremy’s direction. “It concerns Fanny.”

The duke’s eyes flicked to Jeremy before he said, “Fanny is a grown woman. I have no say in how she lives her life. She’s already turned Letterford down once. He’d be a fool to ask again.”

Rafferty’s expression soured. “I thought time might have changed her mind.”

“It won’t be time that changes her mind, and you should know that as well as anyone here.”

Rafferty frowned. “Do you still have a man in her household?”

Jeremy gaped as the duke nodded and confirm that he did in fact spy on his eldest daughter. “He lets me know of any potential problems.”

Given the way the duke’s attention returned to Jeremy, it was clear he considered Jeremy a potential problem. He had met a number of the household staff already and hadn’t detected anything untoward about any of them. “Who is your spy?”

“Why?”

“Merely curious how one might act such a role and avoid detection,” he promised with a shrug. “I’ve little chance of meeting a real spy who would admit to it.”

The duke smiled tightly. “I could tell you so you could learn from them, but can I count on you not to tell my daughter, Mr. Dawes?”

Jeremy owed his loyalty to Fanny, not to her father the duke. He shook his head.

The duke sighed. “Well, at least she found herself an uncorruptible one this time. The last fellow she plucked from obscurity could be bribed to do anything for anyone.”

Jeremy scowled. “I’m sorry to hear it.”

“Never fear, I will always deal with anyone who acts against my daughter’s best interests,” the duke promised.

Jeremy nodded, understanding that the responsibility of his current role shouldn’t be taken lightly or he’d suffer for any presumption. The duke would deal with him too if Jeremy strayed beyond his current role.

He’d no intention of doing so. But he walked a fine line where propriety was concerned. He had to make it seem like he was in serious pursuit of Lady Rivers without jeopardizing her reputation.

The duke rearranged his long limbs and regarded his tankard yet again. “I hope you are as loyal to my daughter as you seem, Mr. Dawes. If not, you will not fare well.” The duke’s jaw clenched, determination clear on his features.

“Understood.” Jeremy nodded, feeling a pang of uneasiness. He’d been threatened before by rough men all his life. Men holding knives, blunderbusses pointed at him. Men who would murder and never be held to account. But he had to admit, being threatened by the well-dressed head of the Westfall family was actually equally terrifying. The duke had the power to send him back to his old life, deny him his profession, or even make him disappear altogether.

“Good.” The duke nodded and then abruptly turned to his elder son who’d just returned. “How long will you be staying at Stapleton this time, son?”

Talk resumed without Jeremy, and soon the duke appeared to forget his presence as servants appeared, lighting dozens of candles about the chamber.

When Fanny had suggested he take on this role, she’d

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