Page 2 of The Lyon’s Lass

“There is no one after you, I’m afraid,” the man looked around the room and let out a resigned breath. As if he’d settled on the solution. But the man was wrong. Very wrong.

“Then just let the title go back to the Crown,” Iain suggested. He may not know much about the peerage, but even he knew what the man said next was true.

“I’m afraid that’s not how it’s done, I’m sworn to His Majesty to find the next person in the line, and I have done so.”

Iain stood and paced in the small quarters, rubbing his dark beard while trying to figure out what he was to do with this information. Mayhap some good could come of these circumstances.

“Fine. Then I wish to sell any properties,” Iain said, thinking the extra blunt in his pockets could come in handy. Perhaps he could fund his next trip and sell the cargo himself, he’d make more than just a cut of the profits.

“I’m afraid Lord Kesson’s estate is only made up of entailed properties. A town home here in London and a castle in Scotland.”

“A castle?” Hodge said, sounding impressed.

“Yes, unfortunately the castle has fallen into disrepair and is in need of funds to put things to rights.”

Iain stopped walking and set a steely glare on the smaller man.

“You mean to tell me, you came here to saddle me with debt and a title I don’t want?”

The man didn’t cower, but after opening his mouth to answer, he had brains enough to know not to speak.

“Let it rot,” Iain snapped. “Tell me what else must be done and I’ll see it done, but I’m not paying a pence on a property all the way in Scotland that I don’t need.” He’d spent his summers in the Highlands as lad with his grandparents. He recalled the smell of heather and cool mountain air. And recalled Kesson Castle faintly. As a boy, he’d always hoped to live there one day. He shook the memories away. It was the salt and the sea for him now.

“That is, of course, your prerogative. I’ll inform the staff and the tenants they’ll need to find new homes and work.”

“Bloody hell,” Hodge muttered, knowing how unwilling Iain was to let people down.

It had begun when Iain was a captain in the navy and had many men under his command. It hadn’t stopped when he’d taken on private work. Iain always cared for his crew, made sure they were paid well for their work. Sailed for land and a doctor if anyone fell ill or was injured. It was what his father had instilled in him. That a man cared for those he was in charge of.

Iain sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. It seemed he was in charge of many more people than he’d wanted.

“How much is needed to set the castle to rights?” he asked, the words bursting out of him like a cannon ball. He couldn’t help himself but care, damn him.

“I’m not entirely sure, you could write to the steward for actual amounts, but I would say it couldn’t be more than ten thousand pounds.”

Iain and Hodge let out a curse that turned the solicitor’s cheeks pink.

“Where the bloody hell do you expect me to come up with that kind of money?”

“I can’t say,” Mr. Reynolds shrugged. “You could always do it the way the other poor lords do.” He paused but cleared his throat when neither Iain or Hodge took his meaning. “Marry a lady with a hefty dowry.”

“Bloody hell,” Iain cursed again.

Maisy Bennett clenched her fists in her skirts as the doctor explained that her father was not well. He’d not been well for some time and even before that, they’d never been close, but this, she could tell, was quite serious.

“He only has a month, perhaps two, before he succumbs to this wasting disease,” the doctor informed her.

Maisy nodded in understanding as she stared unseeing at the carpet in their drawing room. Her breath coming fast and her heart pounding. Beside her, Jack touched her arm and moved his hands.

Father is dying? He asked, having read the doctor’s lips.

Maisy nodded and they simply looked at each other. Between the two of them they could count the times they’d seen their father on their twenty fingers. Maisy and Jack spent their time in Cornwall, while their father and older brother—the heir—stayed in London or one of the other properties. After her mother had died giving birth to Jack, she saw even less of the man until Maisy had come of age to be foisted upon the ton for Season after Season.

At three and twenty, Maisy had given up on finding a match, yet she and Jack had been brought to London with the spring as usual. Only this time to find their father ill.

While Maisy and Jack had simply been forgotten, their older brother, Nelson, had taken the brunt of their father’s every displeasure. She had watched the caring brother she’d once looked up to turn into a cruel monster.

“Does Nelson know?” she asked the doctor quietly.