I dipped my head to hide a laugh. Duke of Worcester or not, Alexander Winthrop-Bentley was not a man to be trifled with. He’d struggled academically as a young teen, and it had led to him fighting a lot with the other boys—fights he almost always won.

My aunt Elizabeth and late uncle Arthur had finally realised he was dyslexic, and he’d worked hard to overcome those struggles to the point he now needed little help to run Bentley Manor, the huge estate he’d inherited at twenty-one after Uncle Arthur had a heart attack.

My father had taken him under his wing, taught him how to successfully run and expand the estate, and in a few short years, he’d leased several portions of twenty-acre plots to young, local farmers, with the view for them to create working farms for their families for years to come. He had everything from dairy farms to vegetable farms to chicken farms, including an allotment site he rented out for mere pennies to local people, especially those with disabilities or mental health struggles who struggled to upkeep the council-owned ones.

So the idea that my cousin, of all people, was out to fleece the working class man when he counted many of them among his best friends was laughable.

“We are not punching people, Alexander.” Aunt Cat poked his arm. “What are you doing here if Olympia is in school?”

“Ma is watching her for the night. I’m here to talk business with Uncle Henry. Is he back yet?”

“Still in Windsor,” she confirmed. “I think he will be until tomorrow morning as his meeting ran over. Are you staying the night?”

“I suppose I’ll have to. I don’t fancy traveling back home just to return again in the morning. Checkmate!”

“Oh, balls!” I threw my pawn across the table, and it bounced off onto the floor. “Was I even checked?”

“Yes, dear, you didn’t notice. You’re awful at it.” Aunt Cat stood. “I’ll ask Jennifer to prepare your bedroom, Alexander, and I’ll call Elizabeth and let her know you’ll be home tomorrow afternoon.”

There was no arguing with her tone, so he simply said, “Thank you, Aunt Cat. I appreciate it.”

“Of course you do. Now bring my great-niece with you next time. I’ll have new ducks next week.”

“You’ll what?” I did a double-take. “New ducks?”

“Yes, dear. I’ve managed to source some lovely Cayuga ducks along with some rare Welsh Harlequins.” She patted her skirt pockets for her phone. “I don’t have my phone to show you pictures, but they’re lovely.”

“Does Daddy know about this?”

“Whyever would he know? I’m not stupid enough to tell him.”

“You can’t just show up with more ducks.”

“I most certainly can.” She strolled to the door and looked over her shoulder. “You should all be thankful I’m not bringing home more goats.”

That was true. “Victoria and Albert are definitely enough.”

Alex snorted. “Victoria and Albert? You named your goats Victoria and Albert?”

“Technically, it’s Queen Victoria and Prince Albert,” I answered.