Page 114 of My Highland Love

“I thought the same,” Marcus said.

“Something more you need to know,” Justin said. “If Elise doesn't return from the dead, her shares go to the next living blood relative.”

“Steven Landen would control Landen Shipping,” Marcus said.

“Steven Landen does control Landen Shipping. Elise's stock isn't his—not until the allotted five years passes—but he controls her vote until then.”

Marcus frowned. “Then why hasn't Ardsley simply killed him?”

“Because Steven's will bequeaths his shares and controlling interest to a distant cousin who lives in New York.”

“My God,” Marcus murmured. “Steven Landen is of no consequence—”

“If Price Ardsley has Elise,” Justin finished for him.

“Why the bloody hell is her brother not here?” Marcus burst out. “Where did you get this information?”

Justin grinned. “There is always a disgruntled employee to be found.” The earl returned his attention to the letter. A moment later, he looked up, shock written on his face. “My God, she shot her husband? Surely, it can't be true?”

“I believe every word,” Marcus said.

Justin glanced at the letter. “You knew nothing of this? Of course not,” he added.

Marcus gave a hollow laugh. “I knew I wanted her. Nothing else mattered.”

The earl nodded. “Love blinds a man.”

As does passion, Marcus added silently, then said, “I meant to leave immediately to find Steven, but if it is possible Elise is here—” he broke off, still unable to grasp the possibility.

“You must find the boy. He's the key to getting to Ardsley. I never met his sister. If our story is to hold any weight, it must come from you.”

“But Elise…”

A glint appeared in Justin's eye. “I will find her.”

Marcus grasped his cousin's shoulder and squeezed, then released him. “I'll depart tomorrow. We—”

The door opened and the waiter appeared, a plate of food in each hand. He approached the table and began to set Marcus's plate before him but halted, his gaze falling on the wine-stained tablecloth.

He straightened. “I shall replace the linen.” He turned to leave, plates still in hand.

“Nae,” Marcus said. “Leave the plates. We will live with the spilt wine.”

The waiter looked as if he'd been asked to strip naked and run through the streets of Boston.

Marcus rested his gaze on him. “Leave the plates, lad.”

The man did as instructed. “If you need anything—”

“We will call for you,” Marcus cut in. “Until then, see that we aren't disturbed.”

The waiter blinked, but gave a stiff bow and left.

Justin picked up his knife and fork. “I said you'd cut him to the quick.”

“I'll be back well before Landen Shipping's next meeting,” Marcus said. “Then I will cut Ardsley to the quick.”

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