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Nicholas turned away in defeated disgust, and Molly reached out to pat his hand in commiseration before being distracted by the fascinating Marco Scott, who was speaking about his injury from the accident earlier. Her heart fluttered, and she quickly forgot Nicholas’s troubles as she soaked in the sound of his accented voice. She was well aware that Marco had noted her state of mild infatuation when they were introduced. Her private habit of being direct had inadvertently intruded and betrayed her attraction.

Cousins by marriage, not by blood?

Could she have been more obvious about what she was thinking?

Subtle, Molly Carter! As subtle as a hammer to the head!

Such a sophisticated man was likely entertained by such bungling antics from a country gentlewoman who was perilously near spinsterhood. She thought maybe she had seen an answering flash of interest in those soulful eyes, but perhaps that was merely wishful thinking. Or perhaps Marco Scott was a glib flirt.

Nevertheless, she wished to remain when the rest of their guests arrived so that she might be in the same room as him for a while longer. It was a novel experience being so intrigued, and she wished to know more about him. Did his character match his handsome exterior? The only way to discover it was to spend time in his company.

Molly shifted her gaze to the French poodle at the door, keeping watch over her. If she asked Simon for permission to attend the private gathering to brief their new relations on the secrets of the Scotts, he was going to point out that she could not be alone with so many men. And he would never allow the gossiping Miss Dubois to overhear the discussion of such private affairs.

Blast! Being a single woman was such a vexatious affair!

On the other hand … Molly nibbled on her lower lip as she considered her options. Just weeks earlier, she had prevailed upon cousin Simon to allow Madeline to come to dinner despite the lack of propriety. And now the two were married. Not precisely connected facts, but she had discovered something then. Simon did not like to turn down her requests, even when her arguments were lamentably thin. He had little experience with female relations and was disinclined to disappoint her. And it helped that he liked her. If she could form a solution to the matter of chaperoning, which placed Claudette Dubois’s inquisitive ears well outside hearing distance, might he allow her to remain in the room when the gentlemen met?

Marco was recounting the bizarre accident from that morning, describing what it had been like to be thrown about in the carriage. He had glanced at Miss Carter across the room, but after realizing she was now staring back at him, he had made a point of deliberately not looking in her direction.

Fortunately, right around the time the compulsion might have overridden his good sense, the butler had entered to announce the guests they had been waiting for. An older man of medium height with the rigid posture of a military man and a round, friendly face, the butler made his announcement with a slight Scottish brogue.

“What is it, MacNaby?” inquired the baron.

“His Grace, the Duke of Halmesbury, and Lord Saunton, the Earl of Saunton.”

Two men entered, one like a Nordic god from the halls of Valhalla, and for a moment, Marco thought it was Sebastian. Several inches over six feet, broad shoulders, slim hips, and blond hair with gray eyes, but it was the quiet air of English authority along with the fastidious state of his attire that revealed it not to be his longtime friend. Nevertheless, Marco turned his head to confirm that Sebastian was yet sprawled in a wingback chair near the fireplace, his long legs crossed before him.

They rose to greet the guests, but as the Viking’s gaze swept the room, he froze to settle it on Sebastian with a tensing of his facial muscles. Marco’s friend had not risen, but was staring back at the newcomer with a challenging expression that Marco had not observed on previous occasions.

“Sebastian?”

“Your Grace.”

“What are you doing here?” The duke’s tone was angry and confused.

“Must a man announce himself when he visits friends, brother?”

The duke’s jaw set in firm lines, and he barked out a response. “We are family, you … you … arse!”

As soon as the words left his lips, His Grace froze and turned a deep shade of red before he turned to find the young woman in their company. Licking his lips, he dropped a quick bow, clearly mortified at his loss of composure. “My apologies, Miss Carter.”

The shorter of the two newcomers, presumably the earl, who was a handsome man with sable hair and emerald eyes, swung his head back and forth between the two, then strode forward to lean down and clap Sebastian on the shoulder. “It is good to see you, cousin! When did you return?”

“Lorenzo and I accompanied Mr. Scott and his brother. We arrived this morning.” Sebastian rose to his feet, reluctance etched in the lines of his colossal form. Marco had always thought that his English friend could have been a subject for the great sculptors of the Renaissance with his impressive physique. In the current mood, he could represent Pluto himself.

“Did you think you might inform us? Were you aware that we were coming to call this afternoon?” The duke’s tone was stern, and Marco grimaced. If the Scott family drama was not enough, apparently they were now to bear witness to the melodrama of the Markham family unfolding as if they were an audience at a theater. How had he not recalled that Sebastian’s important nobleman of a brother was a duke?

Sebastian gave a small roll of his shoulders as if attempting to squash some potent emotion. “I was unaware you had a connection to Lord Blackwood, and I would have paid a call at the earliest opportunity.”

The duke frowned. “Of course I know Lord Blackwood. The peerage consists of a finite circle, after all.”

“I suppose I should have thought of that. Certainly, I did not expect to encounter you so soon upon my arrival.”

The older brother gave a frustrated shake of his head, his fuming evident. “I have not heard from you in a year! I have a wife and an heir who have never met you, and another child on the way. How—” The duke cut himself off, his eyes flickering to the others in the room as if he had just recalled where he was. “We need to speak in private.”

“Then I shall pay a call to Markham House so we can … catch up … And I shall meet the duchess and your son.”

Marco turned his head to Angelo, catching his eye and lifting his brows in question. Angelo shrugged in a gesture of frank bewilderment. How had they not known that Sebastian was estranged from his family? He supposed they might have guessed by the fact that he had never left Florence, nor ever mentioned anyone from England.

However, it did bode well that keeping Sebastian and Lorenzo in the dark about the Scotts’ difficult circumstances would be a simple enough affair, if the two partners were to be distracted by their own troubles.

Since the additional guests had arrived, it was time to learn what precisely had transpired these past months, including the mysterious death of Lady Blackwood, Simon and Nicholas’s mother. But first, they would have to effect a polite withdrawal from their companions, who did not need to be included in this particular discussion.