Archie’s plan was, to get him out of it. But neither had Archie finished answering his question.
He reminded him, “And my mother? Why did she keep it a secret from me?”
“‘Twas ne’er a secret. Ye were just tae young afore she died, lad. She would hae told ye when ye were a bit aulder. She was no’ unhappy wi’ her promise. She was English, after all, and pleased that ye would be the next Marquis o’ Birmingdale following her da. She held much stock in titles, ye ken. Most o’ the English do.”
“You
should have told me, Archie. You shouldna have let it come tae the day o’ collecting, wi’ me no’ knowing. And what am I tae do wi’ that wee Englishmon upstairs who thinks I’ll be going wi’ him?”
“But ye will be going wi’ him.”
“The devil I will!”
Duncan shot out of his chair so quickly, it toppled over to the floor, startling the cook across the room into dropping a knife, which caused her to shriek when it almost stabbed her toes. She cast Duncan a glare. He didn’t notice, glaring himself at his grandfather. Archibald, wisely, kept his eyes on the table.
“You canna sit there and tell me you’ve no’ figured a way oout o’ this,” Duncan continued hotly. “I willna believe it! Who’s tae manage here, then, if I go?”
“I managed well enough afore ye took o’er. I’m no’ sae auld—”
“You’ll drive yourself intae an early grave—
It was Archie’s chuckle, this time, that cut Duncan off. “Dinna think tha’ my giving ye the reins meant I was ready tae retire. Nay, ye just neededthe learning, laddie, and hands on was the best way tae get it.”
“For what purpose then? So I could go off and be a blasted marquis instead?”
“Nay, sae ye’d hae firsthand knowledge tha’ ye could teach tae yer son.”
“What
son?”
Seven
T here had been many letters between the two old men—and much arguing. This was explained to Duncan that morning as he ignored the breakfast Cook set before him, and asked for a dram of whisky instead, ignoring, too, the stem look the old girl gave him for imbibing so early of a morn. The arguing had not been over whether Duncan would go to England, but over who would lay claim to his firstborn son.
“The one that’ll be taking o’er here,” Archie explained. “Nae one expects ye tae divide yerself, Duncan lad. We’ve tae many businesses here, and there’ll be tae many duties there in England for ye tae assume. That’d be tae much for any mon, and tae long a journey for ye tae be making constantly back and forth.”
They both wanted him wed posthaste so thathe’d have a bairn by next year that would be farmed out—just as he was being. They didn’t care what he thought of their arranging his life for him. They’d already agreed between the two of them that with Neville getting him, it was only fair that Archie get his firstborn.
He had a good mind to board a ship to some far-off place and to hell with both of them. But he loved Archie. He was furious with him at the moment, but he still loved him and could never break his heart that way.
Yet he felt like his life had never been his to live. They’d decided long ago that he would do as he was told to do, and that was that. Perhaps if he’d been raised differently, it might not have bothered him at all, to be so controlled. But Scotsmen were a fiercely independent lot, and Highlanders even more so. Which was why he
still
couldn’t believe that Archie had ever had any intention of honoring that damned promise. Agree to it, aye, to keep the peace and get Donald his bride, but in the end, he should have ignored it.
Yet he found out why Archie was resigned to honor the promise when he’d asked him directly, “And what if I refuse tae go?”
Archie sighed and said forlornly, “I loved yer muther like a daughter. I didna think I would, her being English, but she was the sweetest lass, and she grew on me verra quickly. I realized long ago, afore she died, that I
Elizabeth Amelia Barrington