Marrying the Marquis Read Free

and daughters of aristocrats,” Inverary said. “I recall your father was hoping for a match between you and the Gordon girl.”
    “My stepmother was pushin’ for a match between me and my stepsister,” Ross said, reaching for the second glass of whisky, “but I’ve no inclination to wed her or one of my sister’s friends.” He kept the liquid in his mouth a moment before swallowing. “Elegant and floral. Lowland whisky, no doubt.”
    The Duke of Inverary nodded at his answer. “I never hear your name attached to any ladies.”
    “I dinna trifle with maidens or marrieds.”
    “Do you keep a mistress?”
    The question gave Ross an unexpected jolt, putting him on guard. “Why do ye ask?”
    Inverary shrugged, his inscrutable smile appearing again. “Simple curiosity while passing time with my favorite cousin’s son.”
    Curiosity, my arse . Ross smelled a trap. Inverary had never been prone to idle curiosity. His duchess was another matter, though.
    “Where has Douglas Gordon been hiding himself lately?” Inverary asked, changing the subject.
    Ross relaxed again. “Dougie’s been delayed in London, confounded by this Seven Doves Company undercuttin’ his prices, but he’ll arrive in Newmarket before the Jockey Ball.”
    “I suppose you’ll be stayin’ with Gordon once this Feathered Flock perches at your home,” the duke said.
    Ross shook his head. “I keep rooms at the Rowley Lodge to escape the twitterers.”
    “Did you hear what happened to Charlie?”
    “I heard he’d been stabbed in a tavern brawl, God rest his soul,” Ross said, reaching for the third glass of whisky.
    “Thoroughbred racing’s best jockey would never have been involved in a brawl two weeks before the first race,” the duke said. “I’ve given Harry the nod to ride Thor.”
    “Perhaps Charlie was reluctantly drawn into the brawl.”
    “Someone murdered Charlie to prevent his winning me the Crown again this year,” Inverary said. “Alexander Blake is arriving today for the races and helping Constable Black investigate the murder. Hiring London’s most famous constable is costing me a fortune.”
    “Ye can afford it.” Ross sipped the whisky. “This spicy taste screams Campbeltown whisky.”
    The Duke of Inverary smiled. “You are three for three, lad.”
    “What’s this I heard aboot a monkey livin’ with ye?” Ross asked, resting his tongue before continuing the whisky tasting.
    “My daughter acquired a Capuchin monkey,” Inverary said, rolling his eyes. “Blaze inherited my aunt Bedelia’s affinity with animals. Did your father ever tell you stories about Aunt Bedelia?”
    “Ye mean the witch?” Ross asked, reaching for the fourth glass of whisky.
    “Bedelia was no witch,” the duke said, “but she did possess several unusual gifts, one of which was communing with animals.”
    Ross sipped the whisky, savoring its flavor. “Speyside whisky, soft and lovely but no Lowland lady.”
    “Correct again, lad.” Inverary continued his story, “Anyway, Blaze acquired Miss Giggles, but Roxie insisted the monkey needed to go.”
    Ross’s lips quirked in a barely suppressed smile at the duke’s predicament. “Monkeys are such wee, cute creatures.”
    “Do you know how a monkey expresses displeasure?”
    Ross shook his head.
    “The monkey tosses its feces,” the duke told him, “and Miss Giggles took an instant dislike to my wife’s good friend, Lady Althorpe.”
    Ross chuckled. “I wish I could’ve seen that.”
    “I needed to lose the monkey,” Inverary said, gesturing to the last glass of whisky, “or I would lose my wife. On the other hand, I’d lose my daughter if I used my pistol on it.”
    “How did ye solve the problem?” Ross sipped the whisky, the warmth of his tongue releasing its distinctive taste. “Peaty and smoky, this Islay has been aged better than fifteen years, I’d say.”
    The Duke of Inverary nodded his approval and then finished his story. “I sat Blaze down and