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Ross. Very tired.”
    Nodding, Dunn placed the letter from Lady Ross upon the dresser, but held on to the other missive. “And your great-aunt? What do you suppose she wishes? Or should I ask?”
    “What do you think?”
    Dunn sighed. “She wishes for you to attend her ball and house party, fall in love with one of the hundred of young ladies she’s invited for that purpose—as she does every year—and get married.”
    “So now you know why I’m not going to bother reading her missive.”
    The valet pursed his lips. “The duchess has been quite kind to you, my lord.”
    Sin didn’t answer.
    “It wouldn’t hurt to at least read it.” Dunn paused. “Shall I do so while you’re getting ready?”
    Sin met the valet’s gaze in the mirror. “If I say no, you’re going to continue to torment me about it, aren’t you?”
    “Yes, my lord.”
    “Then read the damn thing and be done with it.”
    “Very good, my lord.” Dunn opened the letter. “Your great-aunt writes, ‘Sinclair, I hope this missive finds you—’ ”
    “Dunn, I said that you could read the missive, not that you could read it aloud to me .”
    The valet’s thin lips folded in disapproval. “Shall I at least summarize what the letter says?”
    “Providing it doesn’t mention marriage or her confounded Winter Ball and house party, yes, although I’d be surprised if Aunt Margaret talks of anything else.”
    The valet sighed and returned his attention to the missive, his lips moving silently a few moments. Finally he said, “The duchess is sorry that you didn’t accept her invitations, but she’s resigned herself to your stubborn refusal to enjoy civilized company.”
    “Good for her. Of all my relatives, Aunt Margaret is the easiest to stomach.”
    “She’s refreshingly honest.”
    “Annoyingly so.”
    “She says that it’s quite fine with her that you won’t be coming to her events, but not to expect to use her lands for hunting before you return to Edinburgh as you’d requested, for she’s had a change in her schedule and is planning some amusements for various goddaughters.”
    “Goddaughters? I didn’t know she had any.”
    “She must have quite a few, for she names seven and says they are the first batch she will be inviting to Floors Castle.”
    “Batch? Bloody hell.”
    “Just so, my lord.” Dunn tilted the letter toward the window to catch more light. “The duchess saysshe’s forced to entertain her goddaughters because of you.”
    “What?”
    “Yes. She says that as it seems unlikely that you will ever marry and produce an issue for her to dandle upon her knee, she will have to rely upon the kindness of her godchildren to do what her own blood family will not.”
    “Dandle upon her knee? Does she really say that?”
    “Yes, my lord. Dandle.”
    “Ridiculous. What about my brothers? They’re both recently wed, thanks to her meddling, and either could be in the family way any day now.”
    “It appears she’s forgotten your brothers, my lord.”
    “That’s because she’s too busy trying to leg-shackle me to some empty-headed chit.”
    “The duchess can be determined.”
    “This time she’s bound to face disappointment. Let her invite her hundreds of goddaughters; I can always hunt at my brother’s new estate outside Stirling. Stormont’s asked me to visit for months now.” Sin picked up his coat and prepared to put it on.
    “My lord!” Dunn dropped the letter upon the bed. “Please, allow me. You’ll crease it if you shrug into it.” He came to help Sin into his well-fitted coat.
    After the coat had settled on Sin’s shoulders, Dunn took up a bristle brush to capture any infinitesimal bits of lint. With nothing to do, Sin absently looked down,his gaze drifting over his great-aunt’s letter. His eyes locked upon a name that was scrawled in the middle of a sentence, a name he’d thought to never see or hear again— Rose Balfour .
    Instantly, his jaw clenched. “Damn it!”
    Dunn turned a