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“Good Lord. Your Grace. It’s true. You’re alive.” His brown eyes widened so much his eyebrows hit the hairline. “I couldn’t believe the news, but I’m so glad it’s true. You probably don’t remember me, but we met years ago, before you left for South America.”

No, Hector didn’t remember the man. Back in those days, botany had been the only thing on his mind. He hadn’t paid attention to anything else, certainly not to social interactions.

“Unfortunately, I don’t remember you.”

Mr. Merriweather didn’t seem disappointed. His smile was still bright. “Do not worry, Your Grace. You might be interested to know I’m also Miss Verity Debenham’s betrothed.”

Hector perked up. “Miss Verity and her sister have been very kind to me.”

The solicitor drew in a breath, thrusting his chest further out as if he were proud. “I have no doubt, Your Grace. Those two ladies are unique.”

Indeed.

Quentin cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon, Merriweather. I am the duke. Stop addressing Hector as Your Grace. And why are you here? My business doesn’t concern you any longer.”

Mr. Merriweather straightened. His demeanour changed in a moment from pleasantly surprised to utterly aggressive.

If there was one thing Hector had learnt from the primates on the island, it was to pay attention to even the smallest twitch of a facial muscle.

Every tiny gesture or contraction of a muscle had a deep meaning with animals. Humans weren’t different.

“I’m pleased you mentioned your title. It’s the reason I’m here.” Mr. Merriweather opened his leather folder and produced a few documents he laid on the table. “I stayed up all night to have these documents ready. The late duke, your cousin and Lord Hector’s brother Robert…”

Hector clenched his jaw at the mention of his brother. For everyone in London, Robert had died years ago. But for him, Robert had died only a few weeks.

“The late duke left me strict instructions.” Mr. Merriweather went through his documents with methodical precision until he selected a single sheet and handed it to Hector with an air of triumph.

Quentin snatched the document first, though. “What is this?”

Hector snatched the document back. “It’s for me.”

Another thing he’d learnt from dealing with the primates was not to cower in front of a bully. It would only make the bully stronger.

“Can you even remember how to read?” Quentin smirked. “What does the bloody document say?”

Mr. Merriweather rubbed his forehead. “If you’d allow me.

Lord Robert didn’t believe Lord Hector was dead.

It turned out he was right.” He flashed his all-teeth smile again.

“Thus, before the late duke departed for his unfortunate trip to South America in search of his brother, he left me the order to help Lord Hector in his role of Duke of Blackburn in the unlucky case something horrible happened to him.” He gave a final nod as if his words were the end of the conversation.

“Lord Hector is here. Thus, he’s the duke.

The fact he went missing for a few years doesn’t have any impact on the legitimacy of his title.

Besides, even the Succession Law establishes the line of inheritance quite clearly.

From this, you will see the late duke believed his brother would be an excellent duke. ”

Ignoring the sudden tightness in his chest, Hector skimmed the document. He recognised Robert’s elegant signature, but the legal words had little meaning to him.

Did he want to be the duke? Go to the House of Lords and deal with aristocrats and politicians?

No. He’d never wanted to be the duke. He didn’t know anything about governing an estate or discussing a bill in parliament.

Science was his call, not politics. But Robert’s last wish was another matter.

Obviously, Robert had believed Hector could lead the dukedom if something should happen to him, which hurt because during their last conversations, Hector had thought his brother had been deeply disappointed with him. How wrong he’d been.

“I believe Hector needs to be in full possession of his mental faculties to be the duke under the Righteous Bill. Am I right? We don’t want insane people to hold titles.

The Righteous Bill protects us from that possibility.

” Quentin sipped his cup of tea with a calm composure contrasting the turmoil in his gaze.

Mr. Merriweather gave a shrug. “Yes, but Lord Wentworth’s sanity isn’t in dispute.”

“Is it not?” Quentin tilted his head towards Hector and raised his eyebrows.

Mr. Merriweather followed his gaze. The solicitor’s expression hardened as he took in Hector’s opened shirt, lack of shoes, and worn book.

“Hector doesn’t like to wear proper clothing anymore,” Quentin said.

“It chafes my skin.” Hector brought up his legs and crossed them on his seat.

“He doesn’t wear shoes,” Quentin continued, “and he told me a bird was his best friend. Am I correct?”

Hector folded his arms over his chest. “Thomas saved my life.”

“Thomas, sir?” Mr. Merriweather tilted his head.

Hector nodded. “I talked to him every day. He was a good listener, which can’t be said of other people I’ve met.”

“Except Thomas isn’t a person.” Quentin gave him a pointed look.

“He was to me.”

“Hector also told me he lived in the stars.” Quentin stirred his damn tea again.

Mr. Meriwether angled towards Hector, his eyebrows pulling together.

“You know what I meant. You’re twisting my words deliberately.” Hector bared his teeth. “I talked about my life on the island with Maddie, and she understood me perfectly well.”

“I’m sure she did,” Quentin said.

Mr. Merriweather’s face didn’t brighten.

“I owe Maddie my life,” Hector said through clenched teeth. “And I have every intention of repaying my debt.”

“And why don’t we read a page of that awful book you always carry with you?” Quentin went to take Hector’s book again.

Hector let out a feral growl, something he’d learnt was effective to scare the primates. “It’s mine.”

Mr. Merriweather inched away.

Quentin stretched out an arm towards Hector. “There. Mr. Merriweather, until you prove beyond any reasonable doubts that my cousin has the mental capability to take the responsibilities entailed by the management of a dukedom, I’ll remain in my position. Thank you.”

Mr. Merriweather clenched the folder against his chest. “But sir, the law?—”

“You may go.” Quentin’s voice rose. “We don’t have anything else to discuss at this stage. Jones will see you out, Mr. Merriweather,” he added when the solicitor didn’t move.

Mr. Merriweather offered a shallow bow, his jaw clenching. “We’ll have something to discuss soon.” He turned towards Hector. “Your Grace.” He spun on his heels and followed the butler out of the room before Quentin could reprimand him again.

Hector wondered why the solicitor was so upset. A deep sense of justice, attachment to Robert, or something else? He read Robert’s letter again. So many words to simply say he trusted Hector to take care of the dukedom and the tenants admirably.

“Don’t trouble yourself with legal matters.” Quentin went to take the letter, but Hector kept it out of his reach.

“Don’t worry, cousin. It’s no trouble at all.”