Free What to Do with a Duke by Sally Mackenzie Page B

again—“but never mind that. Her loss is my gain.”
    Miss Wilkinson’s brows snapped down. “What do you mean?”
    â€œI mean the Spinster House is now empty, and I—”
    An interior door flew open, and a fellow who looked like a male version of Miss Wilkinson stepped—jumped, really—into the room. “Cat! Why are you here?” He looked over at Marcus. “Ah.”
    â€œYes. See whom I’ve brought you, Randolph? The Duke of Hart!”
    Now why the hell did Wilkinson look guilty?
    â€œThank you, Cat.” He shot his sister a worried glance before smiling at Marcus. “And I thank you, Your Grace, for coming so promptly.”
    â€œMy pleasure.” Not that he’d had any choice.
    â€œRandolph.” Miss Wilkinson’s voice was rather sharp.
    â€œLater, Jane. If you’ll just come this way, Your Grace.” Mr. Wilkinson gestured for Marcus to precede him into the room from which he’d just emerged.
    Miss Wilkinson darted out from behind her desk to block the door. “Randolph, why didn’t you have me write to the duke?”
    â€œ Later, Jane.” Mr. Wilkinson ran his finger under his cravat. “Now please step aside. You are impeding His Grace’s way.”
    Miss Wilkinson didn’t budge. “I wondered why you had the Spinster House documents on your desk.”
    Randolph stiffened. “You were poking around my office?”
    â€œI’m your secretary. Poking around your office is part of my job.” She narrowed her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me the place was vacant, Randolph?”
    â€œBut it isn’t, Jane.” Miss Hutting had been watching this sibling exchange, chewing on her bottom lip, but she now entered the fray. “Or it won’t be. The duke has agreed to let me be the next Spinster House spinster.”
    Miss Wilkinson’s face took on a distinctly mulish cast. “He can’t do that.”
    Miss Hutting’s eyes widened, her cheeks flushing. “Yes, he can.” She looked at Marcus. “Can’t you, Your Grace?”
    There was danger here. Fortunately Miss Wilkinson rushed to speak before he could.
    â€œHe can’t let you be the Spinster House spinster.” She glared at her brother. “There are procedures that must be followed.”
    â€œJane, not now. Please.” Mr. Wilkinson tugged on his cravat as though that article of clothing was suddenly strangling him. “If you will just step into my office, Your Grace?”
    â€œAh, but I believe your sister has something to say, Wilkinson.” Surely the man realized Miss Wilkinson was going to say her piece one way or the other. Best to get it over with immediately. And if there was some rule preventing him from giving Miss Hutting the use of the Spinster House, he wanted to know it. In this matter, not following the rules could have fatal consequences. He did not care to drop dead in Wilkinson’s damned office.
    â€œThank you, Your Grace.” Miss Wilkinson trained her gaze on her brother. “You know as well as I do, Randolph, that any opening at the Spinster House must be announced to the village.”
    â€œEr. Ah.” Mr. Wilkinson’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “I believe that is a mere formality.”
    â€œIt. Is. Not.” Miss Wilkinson bit off each word. “And if there is more than one candidate, each must be given an equal chance to win the position.”
    Miss Hutting looked at her friend. “But, Jane, I-I’m the only confirmed spinster in Loves Bridge.” Her voice wavered slightly, as if she suddenly wasn’t entirely convinced of her statement.
    Miss Wilkinson kept her eyes on her brother. “No, Cat, you are not, as Randolph well knows. Why do you think he’s been so secretive about this?” Her nostrils flared. “He even tried to send me off on a ridiculous errand so I wouldn’t be here today, but I