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No choice. Abigail remembered when she had first met Oliver. He had seemed to have the weight of the world on his shoulders. She had wondered what he might have chosen to do with his life if that choice hadn’t been taken away from him at his birth.

Perhaps he was happy, perhaps not. But she knew for certain that Toby had been happy with the life he had chosen, with his work, with their lives together. She didn’t want her son, their son, to have no choice in what he did with his life. She couldn’t imagine that was what Toby would have wanted either. Abigail shook her head. ‘No, thank you very much.’

‘He will inherit the Hall, of that there is no doubt. He is a Somerville.’

Abigail stared at him. ‘What about Oliver? He’s spent his whole life looking after the estate, preparing to step into your shoes.’

Hugh shrugged. ‘I could offer him a job as the estate manager.’

‘Offer him a job? You can’t be serious.’ Abigail glared at him. The look on his face said he wasn’t joking. She shook her head, and said, ‘I’m going home.’

‘Good idea.’ Hugh stood up. ‘I’d better drive. You’re in no condition to …’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Driving back to Somerville Hall. Albert, can I borrow your car? I’ll have one of the staff bring it back tomorrow.’

‘I’m not going back there. I’m going home to my cottage next door.’

Albert said, ‘I’ve got a big umbrella. Let me see you across the drive.’

Hugh frowned. ‘Albert, stop interfering.’

Albert stopped and looked at him. ‘You know what? I’ve stepped back and not interfered in your family’s affairs nearly all my life, and look at the mess it’s got us into. It may be too little, too late, and I wish I spoken up decades ago and not listened to Daphne, but here we are. I am seeing Abigail back to her cottage. Good day!’ Albert went to fetch an umbrella. He stood by the door. ‘I hope you’re not here when I get back.’

‘Where do you expect me to go without a car?’

Gerald fished in his pocket and threw him his car keys.

Hugh caught them. ‘Abigail?’

She’d reached the door to the stairs and turned around. ‘Goodbye, Hugh.’

‘You can’t do this, Abigail. He’s my grandson.’

Abigail shut the door behind her.

‘I will tell him when he’s old enough – don’t think that I won’t!’

She heard him from the other side of the door. Abigail stood with her back to the door, taking a breath. She looked down the stairs at Albert, who was standing by the door, holding her coat and an umbrella. He looked up at her apologetically. Abigail guessed she wasn’t the only one who hadn’t anticipated the true fallout of the Somervilles finding out the truth.

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