Page 40 of Thief Taker

He’d not been alone in that desire, either.

Cole had wanted it too, Kit was sure of it. But what did it mean that he’d stopped? What advantage did denial give him in this game they were playing? To tease Kit to distraction, maybe.

If so, he was having some success.

Kit slowed as he approached the black door of his solicitor’s office, the brass plate at its side announcing Mr. Jacob Hawker, Solicitor. Taking a breath, Kit tugged at his cuffs and composed himself before he went inside.

There were matters other than his thwarted desires to be dealt with today. Matters of much greater importance.

He was met by a clerk who rose from his desk, clearly expecting him. “Mr. Duvall,” he said, with a polite bow. “May I take your hat and coat? Please go in directly, Mr. Hawker is at your disposal.”

Once free of his heavy coat, he turned to the office door to his left. It was ajar, and as he opened it, Mr. Hawker stepped out from behind his desk to greet him.

Hawker was a careful man, sober in his black coat, with a dash of grey hair visible beneath an old-fashioned powdered wig. He regarded Kit with serious, pale eyes and offered a bow a little too deliberate to look easy. “Good morning, Mr. Duvall.”

“Mr. Hawker. I trust you received my note yesterday?”

Behind him, the clerk arrived with a tray of tea. Thank God. Perhaps a drink would wash away the distracting taste of his confrontation with Cole.

“I did, sir.” Hawker cast a cautious look at the clerk who was setting down the tray and preparing to pour the tea. “Thank you, Evans, leave that.”

Kit was grateful for his circumspection; this was not a conversation for other ears.

Once they were alone, Hawker went to pour the tea himself. “Would you care for some refreshment, sir?”

“Thank you, yes. It’s been a long morning already. Milk but no sugar, if you please.”

Hawker gave a slight smile. “Of course. Do take a seat by the fire, the rooms are still chilly this early.”

Kit did so, glad of the merry blaze in the small, practical iron fireplace. Little else felt merry on this dismal morning.

Setting a cup of tea on the table between them, Hawker took the chair on the other side of the fireplace. He sat forward on the edge of the seat. “As you requested, Mr. Duvall, I have looked into the matter of Viscount Rowsley breaking the entail on your family’s estate.”

Kit took a sip of tea, relishing its warmth and comfort. With control, he set his cup in its saucer and said, “And what is your opinion of the matter? Is such a thing legal?”

“That, sir, depends entirely upon the deed itself and the circumstances in which it was executed.” He paused, clearly measuring his words. “An entail may be legally broken, but only under specific conditions. The tenant in tail, in this case your brother as your father’s heir, must act with the consent of the protector of the settlement. In your family’s case, the protector is your father, the earl.”

“And if my father gave that consent?”

“Then the disentailment would be valid in law,” Hawker said carefully, “provided your father had the legal capacity to give it.” He paused. “That is where the matter becomes considerably more delicate. A man non compos mentis cannot give valid consent to anything. A deed executed based on such consent would be void, as if it had never existed.”

“I see.” As he had imagined, the only way to void the agreement would be to expose his father’s infirmity. “This disentailment document,” he said after a moment, glancing about the office. “Do you hold it here?”

Hawker shook his head. “It is likely to be held by the solicitor who drew it up.”

“But it will be needed before the deeds to Ashbourne can be handed over to a third party?”

“Handed over?” Hawker gave him a very direct look. “Mr. Duvall, is the estate to be sold?”

It took a moment before Kit could answer the question; it was still hard to believe. “It’s possible that Ashbourne Abbey may change hands.”

Hawker stood, pacing quickly to his desk. He appeared unsettled. “I have been your family’s solicitor for over twenty years, sir. I had never imagined…”

“No,” Kit said grimly. “Nor had I.”

Sitting at his desk, Hawker flicked through a pile of letters in a tray until he found the one he’d been looking for and pulled it free of the neatly ordered stack. “I received this yesterday,” he said, “from Viscount Rowsley.” Briefly, he scanned the letter. “Your father placed the deeds to Ashbourne Abbey in my custody some years ago, when he first became…unwell. Lord Rowsley asks that I send them to him by Friday. I confess I had already formed certain doubts about the propriety of complying with his lordship’s request.”

Kit’s cheeks heated with shame for his brother. “Your doubts are correct. You will need to see proof the entail has been broken before releasing the deeds?”