Page 98 of Go, Rogue

“What?” he asks, looking down at her.

“Who did she marry, Andrew?” Catherine asks slowly, her heart already sinking. She knows what it means, those marriage papers. And she can tell from his face he has no idea.

“My father,” McGann says. “Gran said they tied the knot right before she died. It was the only promise he kept to her, the bastard. After I was born, though, so don’t go and get any ideas about me being above my station. I’m an illegitimate sailor and nothing more than that.”

“Andrew.” She can hear the thin, wavering quality to her own voice. “May I see those papers, please?”

“Aye.” He holds the box out to her. “You can see anything you want, Menace.”

She takes the papers from him and stares at them, willing them to be anything other than what they are. But there’s no mistaking what she holds in her hands, despite how much she wishes it otherwise.

It’s the marriage certificate of Andrew McGann’s mother and father. There can be no misunderstanding what it is or what it means. She closes her eyes and briefly, ever so briefly, toys with the idea of saying nothing at all. But she can’t do it—not to him.

“Whatever is the matter, dear?” Elizabeth asks, taking a step toward her at the same time as McGann asks, “Are you alright, lass?”

She lifts her eyes to his and watches the concern evident in his face. “Menace?” he asks, and she would give anything, anything at all, not to have to say the next words out of her mouth.

“You’re the duke, Andrew,” she says. “It’s you.”

He steps away from her. “That’s not bloody funny, Catherine.”

“It’s not meant to be.” She feels so queasy she thinks she might cast up her accounts right then and there. “The rules of primogeniture are different in Scotland. It makes no difference when you were born. If your parents married at any point, before or after your birth, you’re the Duke of Barclay. I’m so sorry, Andrew.”

“No.” He shakes his head, his curls flopping around in a boyish manner that doesn’t fit this particular scenario at all. “I’m bloody well not.”

She wishes—by heavens, how much she wishes—that were true. She knows what being a duke entails: the land, the title, the responsibilities, the estates, the expectations of the ton. And she knows Andrew McGann will hate every moment of it.