Marblestone Mansion 01 - Scandalous Duchess by Marti Talbott Page A

clock over.
    Still undaunted, Charles tried to look around Alistair. “McKenna, tell him I am welcome here.”
    “ Miss MacGreagor to you!” In one swift movement, Hannish grabbed Charles by the coat, yanked him to his feet and with a fierce glare shouted, “Get out of my house, and dinna come back!” He was tempted to toss the smaller man across the room, but thought better of it. Just as abruptly, he let go, nearly causing Charles to lose his balance and fall over the chair. “Prescot, get him out of here afore I kill him.”
    Prescot hurried around the table, grabbed one arm just as Alistair took the other, and together they hauled a shocked Charles out of the dining room. “Wait until my father hears about this!” Charles shouted.
    Prescot released the man once they got him out the front door, but Alistair shoved as hard as he could, making Charles stumble, fall off the steps and land face first on the grass. “I am an excellent shot and I shall not miss!” Alistair warned. He dusted off his hands, followed Prescot back inside, and intentionally slammed the door.
    The ruckus caused all of the servants to rush into the dining room, just as Hannish wrapped his arms around his trembling sister. “I dinna mean to frighten you so.”
    “ He threw Charles Whitfield out,” Keith explained to calm the others.
    “ Are you hurt, Miss McKenna?” Sassy asked, walking around Hannish to see for herself.
    “ Nay, I am fine Sassy.” She took a deep breath, kissed her brother’s cheek, and smiled to reassure him. “I had forgotten you’ve a temper when you feel the need to protect me.”
    “ I had almost forgotten myself.” He took her back to the table and seated her.
    Keith turned the knocked over clock upright on the sideboard and straightened the rumpled table scarf. His nerves were not in much better shape than McKenna’s. He had seen the MacGreagor temper once before, and wasn’t sure Charles would live through it.
    “ He’ll not be back,” Prescot said, walking back into the dining room.
    “ You are wrong,” said Hannish. “Be on your guard, for his kind does not give up easily.”
    The next day, the whole household waited for an angry Claymore Whitfield to come and protest his son’s treatment. He did not come, and everyone guessed Charles wisely decided not to tell his father.

    It was four days after the Scots arrived before a rider brought a telegram to the mansion from Duchesses Olivia MacGreagor. She had not yet left New York City, but promised to arrive on the 14 th . In the foyer, Hannish handed the telegram to his sister, took off his jacket, handed it to Prescot and walked out the front door.
    McKenna slowly read the telegram and then sighed, “Another fortnight.”
    A perplexed Prescot asked, “Where does he go?”
    “ Where he always goes when he is enraged,” McKenna answered, “to chop wood. No doubt he will have chopped enough to see us all through winter by the time we see the end of this.”
    “ Two weeks?” Alistair muttered. “What is she up to?”
    “ I have been thinking about that.” McKenna began to wander into the parlor and both butlers followed her. “How did she choose who to bring and who to leave behind?”
    “ How?” Alistair asked.
    “ She brought the ones who would not tell him, first because they fear her, and second because all of you love him too much to hurt him.”
    Alistair nodded. “She is right on that account.”
    “ Aye, but Olivia dinna know I was on the ship until after it sailed, and by then it was too late to hide our dear Mr. Graham. She dinna believe she could keep me quiet, so what does she do?”
    “ What?” Prescot asked.
    Alistair shook his head in disgust. “She waits to see if her husband has heard and will telephone to accuse her. ’Tis just the sort of thing she would do.”
    “ That is what I think too,” said McKenna, “but she does not know Hannish well enough. He will not telephone; he will wait until he can see the