The clerk led him down a short hall, then opened a door, and bowed him through. But now the truth was beginning to sink in, and with it the realization that he was indeed the new Duke of Torringford. For the past month he had half expected that he would wake up, and discover that this had all been a bizarre dream. He could not get used to the new mode of address. Marcus rose, hastily discarding the newspaper, and hoped that he did not look as foolish as he felt. Forsythe has returned and will see you now.” He flushed as he realized the clerk was speaking to him. Save for himself and the clerk, the small antechamber was empty. Marcus looked up at the man, and then glanced around at the room. “Your Grace?” the voice repeated, a trifle more loudly. Hadn’t those fools in Parliament done enough harm already with their ill-advised tariffs and agricultural reform laws? The solution was fewer restrictive laws, not more. An article on the proposed agricultural reform laws had caught his eye, but he shook his head in disbelief as he read on. Marcus Heywood heard the voice, but continued his perusal of the newspaper. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.įor more information, email Diversion Books edition February 2015 Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
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