Kathryn Caskie Read Free Page A

they honored him with a set of gracious bows.
    “Of course we have heard of you, my lord,” offered the twin with the soft-looking hands.
    “Indeed,” said the other. “We just never expected to make your acquaintance. Our lives are so far removed. We work in iron, while your lordship—”
    Pinkerton broke in. “His lordship does not labor at all.”
    The muscular twin raised an eyebrow.
“Exactly.”
    The earl pivoted on the heel of his gleaming boot, strode across the small room, and took his ease on a worn chair near the coal fire. “Well, my boys, your days toiling about the iron mines are at an end as of this very day. Come, come. Be seated and let us talk.”
    “I beg your pardon, my lord, we have so few guests I fear our manners have become somewhat rusty.” The aristocratic one snapped his feet together and gave the earl a nod. “I am Garnet St. Albans.”
    The earl nodded in greeting. “
Garnet
. Refined and polished like the gem itself. How very appropriate.” The earl chuckled. He turned his head to the twin with the rifle. “So you must be
Griffin
. Part eagle, part lion.” The earl smiled at him. “Yes, indeed you are. How splendid are your names. Perfectly splendid. I shall have no difficulty in discerning between you ever again.”
    An elderly woman entered through the front door just then, and was so startled to see visitors that she dropped her market basket on the floor, sending two green apples rolling across the stone pavers. “Oh, I beg your pardon. I had no notion you had guests.”
    Griffin crossed the room in two long strides and helped the woman gather her things. “You need not fret, Mrs. Hopshire. Lord Devonsfield is family. Though perhaps some tea might be in order.”
    The earl raised his hand. “Pinkerton, trot out to the carriage, will you, and fetch us some brandy, for we must celebrate.”
    Garnet St. Albans caught Pinkerton’s arm as he started for the door. “No need, sir. Mrs. Hopshire, some glasses, please.” Near the hearth was a box, a cellarette of sorts, from which Garnet withdrew a bottle of fine brandy. “We are deep in the country, but not without a few luxuries.”
    Mrs. Hopshire brought a tray laden with several thick, clanking glasses into which Garnet poured the amber liquid. He handed the first glass to Lord Devonsfield.
    “Uh . . . you were saying, my lord, something about our days of toil being at an end?”
    “Indeed I did.” The earl drained his glass and immediately passed it to Garnet to be refilled. “For one of you is to be my heir.”
    “Your . . .
heir
?” Griffin bent down and added a few more pieces of coal to the smoldering fire. He turned his head up to the earl. “Which of us?”
    “My lord, what my brother means is that the law of primogeniture cannot be applied in our situation for we do not know which of us is firstborn. Never had any reason for it to matter . . . at least until now, it seems.”
    Griffin rose and came to stand beside his brother.
    “I am well aware of our predicament.” The earl studied both Griffin and Garnet in turn. Each had qualities to recommend him as heir, or at least so it appeared, and the earl had always placed great weight on the importance of first impressions. “Pinkerton, carry on please.”
    Pinkerton took a step forward. “The predicament, as the earl has put it, is far more dire than you could possibly imagine. Therefore, what I am about to impart to you must be kept in strictest confidence—for the future of the Earldom of Devonsfield depends upon your discretion.” Pinkerton’s eyebrows migrated toward the bridge of his nose. “Unless it can be agreed upon which of you is the elder, which of you is the
legal
heir, the earldom will revert to the Crown upon the earl’s passing.”
    “Obviously, I will not accept this eventuality.” The earl came to his feet and clapped a hand to each twin’s shoulder. “And so I have a proposition for you. My time is short. My physicians do not