They strolled back to Morna’s town house. Simon was disappointed that Freskin’s guardianship wouldn’t be immediately void, but he’d read law at Oxford and understood the legalities. It was a damn shame he hadn’t been able to study Scottish law; that would have done him more good.
Cormac had been quiet during the whole conversation with the lawyer. He glanced over now and asked, “Everyone in the world seems to know about Gretna Green. How was it you believed my grandfather when he said ye weren’t wed?”
Now older and much wiser, Simon had wondered himself how he could have been such a stupid fool. “I was seventeen when your mother and I met. We fell in love the first time we set eyes on each other. She knew her father was ready to betroth her to MacDiarmid, so I suggested we marry quickly, and we did. The following morning her father found us. He dragged her out of the inn, and I followed, certain that he’d have to recognize our marriage and allow me to take her back. Then he argued that as she was already engaged to MacDiarmid, and the marriage agreements had been signed, our marriage wasn’t valid. I went home to England and asked my father for help, but he maintained that I was probably not legally married. I went back to university. Before I left for America, I came here to visit my sister and met your mother again. We tried, but couldn’t stay away from one another.”
“That’s when Finella was conceived?”
“Yes, and when I taught you to tickle trout. Your mother knew within in a few weeks that she was carrying again. I sent a note asking her to come to America with me. I waited long past the hour the ship was to have sailed, but she didn’t arrive. I thought she’d decided to stay with MacDiarmid. I left the next day. I never should have done so. I missed years with you, Finella, and your mother. Time none of us can ever get back.”
Cormac shook his head. “I don’t know if you would have made it out of the house with me. I remember an old groom who was always with me whenever I went outside, even with my mother.” They walked together in silence. “I wonder what to do with myself now.”
“Have you finished university yet?”
“I didn’t go. Neither my grandfather or my—the old man thought it would be helpful.”
“If you wish to attend, I’ll do what’s necessary for you to be accepted.” Simon placed his hand on his son’s shoulder. “I have a majority stake in a shipping line. I was hoping you’d be interested in working with me someday.”
Cormac’s eyes brightened. “Would I get to travel?”
Simon grinned. Young men never changed. “If that is what you want.”
As quickly as his son had smiled, he frowned. “I wish I knew what will happen to the tenants and others dependent on the MacDiarmid holdings.”
Simon was pleased his son took his responsibilities to heart. It boded well for Cormac’s future. “I was under the impression there is a cousin.”
“Aye, but I think he was as old or older than MacDiarmid.”
“If he is dead with no heirs, and if you want it, I’ll see what I can do to have the title and estate granted to you.” For once Simon’s father might be able to help. He had Prinny’s ear.
“Can we wait until we know if there is an heir?” Cormac asked.
“Of course. We’d have to, in any event.” Another issue Simon would ask Titus to look into it on Cormac’s behalf.
When they reached the house, the butler opened the door and bowed. “My lord. Her ladyship would like you to attend her as soon as you returned. She is in the morning room.” The old servant appeared to think for a moment before continuing. “It is down the right corridor at the back of the house.”
“Thank you.” Simon wished he’d discovered the butler’s name before he left this morning. “Is anything wrong?”
“I believe it may have something to do with her ladyship’s father. He visited earlier.”
Simon held back the string of curses hovering on his tongue. “That old man could make a saint sin.”
The butler inclined his head. “Indeed, my lord.”
“Tell me your name,” Simon said.
“Oliphant, my lord.”
“You’re a good man, Oliphant.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
Cormac led the way to the morning room.
When Simon entered, Morna rushed to him, grabbing his jacket. “My father wants me to bring Finella and move into his house. He has some man he’s picked out to marry her. Tell me he’s not her guardian anymore.”
“I wish I could, but that is not yet clear.” The blood drained from Morna’s face, and she swayed. Catching her around her waist, he drew her to him. “Whether he is for the moment or not, he will not marry her off. You have my word.”
“Will you fight him, Da?”
