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Wes stifled a sigh. “Morton set me in place as the trustee to the estate.”
Her eyes widened, she looked downward for a moment and then her gaze shot up to him, her brow furrowed. “My brother did what?”
“Asked me to be the trustee—to oversee your inheritance. I agreed. Mr. Filmore didn’t impart that information to you, did he?”
“What?” Her eyebrows pulled tight together and she shook her head, disbelief flaming through her amber eyes. “No—not you. He wouldn’t have. Why he ever let you back into his life—ever trusted you is beyond me. You hated Morton.”
True.But a little thing like hate wasn’t about to stop Wes from pulling his enemies in closer.
He shrugged. “Morton and I came to an understanding during the last seven months and managed to move beyond the past.”
Not exactly a lie.
Her jaw dropped. “Why are you even here?” Her head shook wildly. “No—no—impossible. This is impossible.” She froze, looking at him for one full second before jumping from the chair and shoving past him, running out of the study and down the hall.
Now what?
Wes spun on his heel and followed her, his long strides eating the distance behind her in short order.
She shoved open the front door and Wes could hear her panicked screaming.
“Mr. Filmore, Mr. Filmore.”
Wes followed her out the front door.
Moving up into his carriage, Mr. Filmore stopped at Laney’s scream, then turned and stepped down from the metal stairs.
“What is it, Lady Helena?”
She jerked to a stop in front of him, gravel kicking up. “My brother—he couldn’t have—he couldn’t have named Mr. Jacobson as trustee to the estate.”
Mr. Filmore’s eyes snapped wide open and he looked from Laney to Wes standing by the front door. “Oh, my apologies, my lady. I had thought since Mr. Jacobson was already present here, you had been apprised of the situation.”
She frantically shook her head. “No. No, I was apprised of nothing. There does not need to be a trustee to say what I can or cannot do with the estate. I’m not an insipid young chit. I’m a grown woman—a spinster that can very well manage my own affairs.”
“Be that as it may, Mr. Jacobson was named as the person to oversee the investments of the estate and distribution. If you have worries on the amount that is left, I’m positive all will be set to right when you find that box. That amount will right the estate and with what little of the land still exists, it should last you your lifetime. I would not worry on that score. I’m also positive Mr. Jacobson will release an adequate amount of funds to you annually to maintain Gruggin Manor.”
A squelch strangled in her throat. “No—not Mr. Jacobson. You don’t understand. That is where there must be some mistake. It cannot be Mr. Jacobson in charge of my money. It wouldn’t be him. Morton would never have done that to me.” She stomped her foot—stomped it like a four-year-old.
Wes stifled a snort.
She grabbed Mr. Filmore’s left arm. “No. No, this is unacceptable. Absurd.”
He looked down at her hand, his nose wrinkling, then shifted the satchel from his left hand to his right. “I assure you it is quite common, Lady Helena.”
“No, it’s unacceptable to be under Mr. Jacobson’s thumb—the man is a penniless wastrel that crept into my brother’s life in order to ruin my family. And now this? It was bad enough that my brother trusted him, but now I am saddled with him as well? The man is an ogre of the first order.”
Mr. Filmore glanced at Wes and then his hand lifted to his mouth and he gave a slight cough. “I am sure your brother had your best interests at heart, my lady.”
“No—no, he did not. My brother was not in his right mind—he hasn’t been since our father died. And especially in the last year. There must be some way out of this? I could petition the courts.”
Mr. Filmore’s bottom lip jutted up in a pitying frown. “I am afraid the courts will not see the situation as you do.” He inclined his head to Laney. “Please do let me know when you recover the box and we will settle the last of the estate.”
He turned and stepped up into the carriage. It rolled away, leaving Laney standing and staring at it, her hands balled into fists grinding into her thighs.
Wes waited a moment. Two. Three.
Laney knew very well he was five feet behind her. How long would it take her to spin to him?
