Free Heirs and Graces (A Royal Spyness Mystery) by Rhys Bowen

out her spies and managed to dig up a possible heir for me. A young man from Australia, who is supposedly Johnnie’s legal child. Naturally, I am employing my own agents to have all of his credentials checked and double checked. But he is being brought from Australia as we speak and will be in this house by—by the end of the week.”
    “And I hope you will all do your best to make him feel welcome,” Edwina said. “In spite of what Cedric says, we have to accept that this boy is indubitably Johnnie’s son, and thus the rightful heir. He comes straight from a sheep farm in the wilds of Australia and will be overawed by the grandeur of this place. It is up to us to groom him to take over the dukedom someday.”
    “Someday in the distant future, we hope,” Cedric said. “I’m not intending to pop off yet, Mother. And who knows what changes may occur in the next forty years.”
    With that, he made a dramatic exit from the dining room.

Chapter 7
    KINGSDOWNE PLACE
    “What did I tell you?” Princess Charlotte wagged a finger at Cedric’s departing figure. “The spirits never lie. A stranger who means danger. That’s what they said, and that same night I dreamed of a cuckoo. A cuckoo sitting on the top of the roof, cuckooing away like mad. And someone in the house called, ‘Somebody make it stop, for God’s sake. It’s driving me insane. I’ll pay you to get rid of it.’”
    “I don’t think we take your spirit messages and dreams as gospel truth, Charlotte,” the dowager duchess said. “I remember you dreamed the Derby winner last year and we all put money on a horse that came last.”
    “The spirits do not like information to be used for monetary gain,” Charlotte said.
    Irene, I noticed, had turned quite white. “Then it’s true that the boy is coming here. And he’ll get all of this someday. A common Australian who knows nothing of our heritage and traditions . . . when my own children come from the purest aristocratic blood.” She broke off with a little hiccup.
    “I think it’s jolly unfair,” Nicholas said loudly. “And jolly stupid too. Why can’t the children of a female inherit anything?”
    “Because that is not the way things are done, Nicholas,” Edwina said. “None of us is thrilled that the heir to Kingsdowne Place will have no social graces and does not deserve to inherit, but we have to accept that it is the only solution and do our best to make him welcome.”
    “Well, I don’t intend to make him welcome,” Nick mouthed to his sister when his grandmother wasn’t watching.
    The soup plates had been whisked away during this interchange, and turbot in parsley sauce had been placed in front of us. I looked across at Irene and her children as I ate. Of course this stranger coming into their midst might mean everything to them—life, death and survival. If Cedric were to die and Jack Altringham became the duke, then the estate and the fortune would be his, and he could expel unwanted relatives without a penny. I thought that if Nicholas was sensible he’d make his new cousin as welcome as possible.
    Steak and kidney pie followed the turbot, then a steamed ginger pudding with custard, followed by a good Stilton and biscuits. At least the food was going to make up for the complicated situation in which I found myself. During the meal, it had occurred to me why I had been asked to come here—only the dowager duchess wanted the Australian boy to be here. The rest were going to go out of their way to make life as unpleasant for him as possible.
    Luncheon ended with coffee, and the family dispersed—the older members for an afternoon snooze and the younger back to the nursery and their tutor. I was left alone, unsure what to do with myself. I wanted to pay a visit to the injured girl. I felt rather sorry about the way her brother had dismissed her as if she was not worth talking about. But first I felt I should get an idea of the layout of the main floor. These old houses can be