Chapter Eleven

A t 87 Harley Street, Dustin held an entirely different letter in hand.

The Chief of Dental Medicine position is held for you, until the last day of the month of May. Please confirm your expected arrival date so the faculty can make the necessary arrangements.

Yours Sincerely,

Graham Peterson,

University of Maryland

Another week had passed, and Dustin added up the numbers. He almost had enough to buy the ticket. But not quite. He couldn't afford the passage yet, though he certainly made more in a day in Marylebone than in a year in Vienna. And despite the ton's most affluent, in his mind, the world needed him more as a dentist than as a duke. He tucked the letter into his pocket. He'd been hoping to arrive in Maryland sooner rather than later, but now he might need to delay his plans. This was supposed to be his last day here and he'd wanted to buy the ticket in the evening. But he'd treated the butcher's wife, daughter, and the postman's boy for free, which had set Dustin's earnings back.

His mind wandered as he gathered the basket of used linens and wiped the trays clean for the following day. As he did, he heard a commotion downstairs. The office door was open and even though he heard someone coming into the practice in a hurry, with a bang and loud footsteps, he decided to ignore it. Even if he might need to stay on a few more days, he decided it was best he allow the doctors who would be staying on to handle what was likely a disgruntled patient. The ton was full of impatient patients, after all, and he was no longer going to be one of their doctors.

"Dustin!" A man's voice thundered through the hall. "Where is he?"

Who…what was happening? Dustin paused. Did he recognize that voice?

"You cannot—" Wendy's voice came from the stairs, but thumping footsteps came closer.

"I don't care. Get him. Now! " The man's voice rose up the stairs along with his footsteps. "Dustin!"

Alarmed, Dustin stood still. He wasn't one to go toward trouble only because someone called his name. However, he didn't have anywhere to hide.

A tall man in a black evening jacket and wearing a topcoat waltzed in as if the office were his.

Oh no! Dustin's stomach sank. Cousin John.

His hair was shorter and his eyes even cooler, but he was largely unchanged by the years since Dustin had last seen him.

Wendy was close by, out of breath. "He just stormed in!"

Of course, he did. Dustin knew that when Jonathan Stonebridge was in a rage, the best strategy was to stay clear of his path. Now, however, he walked to his cousin, who was panting like a furious dog in the doorframe. Dustin shook his head, and Wendy left, understanding the brief signal.

"When did you get back?" The question sounded more like a snarl than an inquiry—typical John.

"I'm not back ." Dustin spoke with as much dismissal as he could muster, despite his surprise.

"But you are here." John waved at the room. Surrounded by Felix's books, his desk, and his chair, Dustin felt like a guest. Worse even, an imposter. Yet his cousin was just the stand-in duke; Dustin was as true and well-trained a dentist as Felix. He was right to be in such a well-equipped treatment room. Where John belonged, he wasn't sure, as it occurred to him he didn't know what John had done to or with their family's last bits of the estate.

All of a sudden, Dustin felt the need to go to his room and check his waist pocket in which he carried his mother's ruby, the last earring—the last bit—that remained from his maternal family's fortune. This one ruby alone was worth more than Starcliff Castle.

"How did you even find me?" Dustin was eager to finish their small family reunion as quickly as possible.

"Imagine my surprise when my newly betrothed waves a letter in front of me by Dr. Dustin Fitzwater at 87 Harley Street."

Dustin's heart dropped. It could have been any of his recent patients. Wendy had sent out at least five invoices for his work every day. Dustin wanted no part of whomever John was going to marry.

"So, you'll have a new duchess soon. Are congratulations in order?"

"Stop the bollocks. If you're back, I need to surrender Starcliff Castle to you and all the privileges afforded to me."

The estate and those privileges didn't matter to Dustin. "None of it was ever yours. But you can have it all; I don't want it."

"It's not about wanting it, Dustin. It's your birthright and your responsibility. And it's a bloody mess. You abandoned your duties, and I am cleaning up after you and your father."

"You know nothing, John. I haven't abandoned my birthright or the dukedom. I'm trying to make it right. I'm cleaning up my father's mess, and you're enjoying the privileges of the title." Dustin formed a fist and squinted. "Go live at Starcliff with your new duchess. Make it a home for your son." Dustin felt as though he'd shrunken, and the very boots on his feet were too large for all the problems he had to solve. He hated being such a coward but also felt guilty for inheriting his father's scandal with the quackery of filling materials. He didn't have time to consider inheriting the dukedom. "It's almost yours, anyway. It would have been if your father had been born a year before mine instead of after. Have it all."

"Over your dead body," John snapped.

"Is that the law or a threat?" Dustin asked, but John shrugged. "Well, I'll be in America soon enough. Consider my body absent, not to be found."

"They are out searching for you, Dustin."

"Who is?"

"The Peerage Committee. They won't ratify me if there is someone ahead of me in line." John's face crumpled as he drew his brows down low.

"They won't find me." Dustin turned away and returned to readying the trays for the next day's patient.

"You may not want to be duke, but can you truly let it all revert back to the crown without doing anything about it? I've never heard such a thing. They'll take it away from either of us if they doubt me and they'll keep doubting me unless they have proof you are dead, or you take your rightful position. It would be a disrespect to our grandfather and all who came before us. Do you not think you ought to do something better with your life?" John's eyes trailed over the overstuffed bookshelf behind Felix's desk and then rested on the towel upon which tools were laid that Dustin needed to sharpen. "What are you doing here?"

"I am a dentist."

"A dentist." John seemed to have the wind taken from his sails of fury.

Dustin arched a brow. Why not?

"You are jesting." With his arms crossed, John surveyed the room, and his eyes lingered on the dentist's chair by the window.

"Not at all. I graduated as the first in my class and completed several apprenticeships to perfect my craft." Dustin stepped to the side and waved grandly toward the same chair on which John's gaze had lingered.

"A duke. Apprenticeships." John's voice became high-pitched. "Are you quite serious?"

"I am."

That gave John pause. A surprisingly long one. "Are you any good?"

"Among the best."

"And not humble at all. Well, you never were."

"That's not in my nature, no."

John eyed him suspiciously. "I'm putting you to the test and calling a family favor."

"If it has to do with assuming—"

"It doesn't. It's about my son, Herbert."

"Oh, how old is he now? I heard he was ten when your wife passed. My condolences."

"Thank you, but it's too late now. You could have come when you heard, stood by me—"

"I would have taken your home, your position, everything. It wasn't the time to do so, nor do I intend to take the dukedom from you now."

"Well, be it as it may. Herbert is thirteen."

"How time flies." In all honesty, Dustin was at a loss in this conversation. He'd been discovered by the worst possible member of the ton, his cousin, the current Duke of Duncan—his stand-in.

"Spare me the platitudes, Dustin. They let him go to sleep with candy and chocolates at Eton, and his teeth are… they are…"

"I see."

"I'm not sure you do. For a boy his age, it shouldn't be so bad."

"Send him over. I will ensure—"

"But you cannot be seen."

"No, I've been trying to avoid anyone who might recognize me. Soon, I'll go to Maryland. I almost have enough money."

"I bet you'll have enough after you treat Herbert."

"I'd never take money from family, John. Consider it a parting gift."

"The gift will be yours if you have to pull his teeth out."

"Absolutely not! I'm sure I won't. He's too young."

"I'll send him with the kitchen maid then. She won't recognize you."

"Thank you, John."

"Dustin." John caught hold of his arm.

"Yes?"

"If anyone recognizes you, the news will spread quickly that the Duke of Duncan is back."

"You are the Duke of Duncan now."

"I'm filling in for you, cousin. But once they know you are here, you know… there cannot be two dukes."

"And we cannot split the dukedom."

They shook their heads, but their eyes met in assent. John was the better Duke of Duncan. Dustin mustn't stay in London longer than necessary.