I have a horse farm in Kirkcudbright, Scotland that I intend to will to you, assuming you are married by the Twelfth Night. Furthermore, and most importantly, to inherit, you must marry a young woman from the village, particularly one that is fond of horses.
The manor at the horse farm is currently occupied by a young woman that is rather dear to me- Miss Elinor Sidney. She has been doing a splendid job of running the horse farm and you would be wise to seek out her assistance during this time.
I am sure you have many questions, and Mr. Davidson will answer them. I look forward to visiting you in Scotland with your bride.
With much love,
Edith
Alden lowered the paper to his side and let out a loud huff. He met the solicitor’s eyes and asked, “Scotland?”
Mr. Davidson tipped his head. “Yes, sir,” he replied. “Your great-aunt has a thriving horse farm in Scotland.”
“Yes, but it is December. The roads will be treacherous during this time of year,” Alden responded.
“Lady Edith has arranged for her finest coach to take you to Scotland, at your convenience,” Mr. Davidson shared.
Richard brought his head up from his letter. “Great-aunt Edith cannot be serious?” he asked, his voice rising. “She wants me to be wed before the Twelfth Night? That is a little more than a month away.”
“That is correct. And Lady Edith is aware of the time restraint,” Mr. Davidson said.
“It is impossible!” Richard exclaimed.
Alden folded the note. “At least you don’t have to marry a chit from a small village in Scotland,” he muttered.
“What of me?” Rose asked. “I am supposed to attend a house party for Christmas.”
“A house party? That doesn’t sound like you,” Alden remarked.
Turning towards him, Rose replied, “It is at my family’s behest.”
Alden shook his head. What his great-aunt was asking of him- of all of them- was ridiculous. How was he supposed to find a bride in a small village of Kirkcudbright? Much less, fall in love and marry her. It was ludicrous to even think of. Great-aunt Edith was just playing a game and he refused to be part of it.
“That coach will not be necessary,” Alden said. “I have no intention of going to Scotland for Christmas.”
“But…” Mr. Davidson started.
Alden put his hand up, stilling the solicitor’s words. “I agree with what Richard said. What our Great-aunt Edith is asking of us is impossible.” He walked purposefully to the door, casting a farewell nod to his cousins. “I wish you luck, but I want nothing to do with this charade.”
Leaving the office, Alden descended the steps and climbed into his waiting coach. The thought of living in Scotland, much less running a horse farm, was entirely unappealing. No, he wasn’t about to sacrifice his life, his friends, or his freedom for a chance to inherit a horse farm.
As the coach rolled away from the solicitor’s office, Alden’s mind raced. Perhaps he was being too rash. If he inherited the horse farm, he could sell it quickly and use the proceeds to purchase land in England, which was a far more desirable location. However, there was the matter of the stipulation. He would need to marry a young woman from that village. A marriage of convenience was not ideal, but it was a price he might be willing to pay.
Alden gazed out the coach window, contemplating his next move. He would find the most beautiful young woman in the village and marry her. Hopefully, she would have a fondness for horses, making the arrangement somewhat tolerable.
The coach came to a stop in front of his familial townhouse. He waited for the footman to come around to open the door. Once he exited the coach, he approached the main door.
The butler promptly opened the door, standing aside to allow Alden entry. As he stepped into the elegant entry hall, his brother’s condescending voice echoed through the space. “What did our great-aunt want with someone like you?”
Alden looked heavenward. “It is rather early for insults, is it not?”
“Is it?” his brother asked, his tone dripping with smugness. “Did Great-aunt Edith need a Latin tutor?”
“No,” Alden responded curtly. “She offered me a horse farm in Scotland.” He didn’t bring up his Great-aunt Edith’s dire health, knowing Alexander’s disdain for their great-aunt. He no doubt would only delight in her circumstances.
“Scotland?” Alexander asked. “That freezing, barren wasteland?”
Despite himself, Alden felt a spark of defensiveness. “Scotland is not a wasteland,” he argued.
