Page 87 of Miss Determined
“Content at least, and happy much of the time. I wish the mares were less coy about foaling, and a good wet spring always brings fears of rain at haying and drought in July.”
“You sound like half the vintners I met on the Continent. Doing what God put them on earth to do, but fretting like hens with one chick.”
“Lark’s Nest isn’t really mine,” Phillip said, piecing off more roast beef with the side of his fork. “I have a life estate as long as I’m a good boy.”
“Meaning as long as you stayed banished?”
“Purvis told you that?” Some of the bravado drained away from Phillip’s tone—and it had been bravado.
“Boasted of it. I hate him, Phillip. A gentleman isn’t supposed to hate, but that man… He has convinced himself that his crimes are justified by imaginary wrongs done to him or equally imaginary honors due him, and all the unearned coin he’s hoarding is simply his just deserts.”
“Sounds a bit like the king, doesn’t he?”
“Or like our father.” Trevor put down his fork because that comment certainly wanted further study. Maybe years of study.
Phillip was also staring at his plate. “When you showed up calling yourself Trevor Dorning, I had no idea what to make of you. You are the old marquess to the life—I have at least three portraits of him in the attic. On my worst days, I’d go stare at them and imagine slicing them all to ribbons.
“I thought perhaps you were a by-blow,” Phillip went on. “You did not react to the portraits I hung in the family parlor, and you certainly did not seem to know who I was. I wondered if I had two brothers—a marquess and a by-blow—and I kept my peace.”
None of this discussion was resolving the matter with Purvis, but the ground had to be covered, and for the moment, Purvis could wait.
“You are free to come and go anywhere you please, you know. The codicil is likely unenforceable. It’s not witnessed, not written in the old marquess’s hand, not even signed.”
Phillip crossed his knife and fork over his empty plate. “You are saying I have nothing?”
Trevor produced the document that Kettering had prepared for him. “You have Lark’s Nest, in fee simple absolute, to bequeath, sell, or lease out as you see fit.”
Phillip unfolded the single page. “Witnessed by an earl, no less.”
“Kettering’s brother is in Town, and they bide together when Grampion comes south.”
“Who’s the other fellow?”
Would he read every blasted word? “Another earl. Casriel is Kettering’s brother-in-law, and he, too, was on hand.”
“Casriel is the Dorning titleholder? What is this? About a red silk handkerchief?”
“You gave me Amaryllis’s handkerchief, after we timed Roland by the river. Kettering said any item of value would do as consideration, and I value that scrap of silk most highly. Lark’s Nest is yours, and I have one less property to worry about. I’m giving Twidboro to Mrs. Dewitt senior. As much excess rent as the DeWitts have paid, they should have it.”
Phillip set the deed a few inches from his plate. “Thank you. On behalf of the ladies and myself. I wasn’t sure I wanted you to be my brother—you look likehim—but you are not him, and neither am I.”
What an odd, wonderful thing to say. “To quote a fine fellow, let there be rejoicing in the land.”
They ate their cobbler on the terrace, the music of the Twid in spring spate accompanying a conversation that ranged from the recent fate of a cousin Phillip had never known, to the possible whereabouts of Gavin DeWitt, to—inevitably—Purvis’s schemes.
“He thinks he has you by the cods,” Phillip said, sounding oddly like Sycamore Dorning. “Thinks you will dread for Society to find out about me. You are too polite to say that, but we need not be that delicate with each other.”
“Purvis has an entire list of wrongs he’s prepared to perpetrate in the name of increasing his wealth and influence. Revealing your situation figures on the list, but not at the top.”
“He’ll go after the DeWitts?”
“If he thinks that would make me more biddable, yes. He’s likely been playing fiddlesticks with their investments, though most of their wealth is beyond the reach of even his paws. He also expects me to marry a certain heiress so he can word the settlements to allow him to plunder those coffers too.”
“I had rather hoped Lissa would sort you out.”
“She has, and if my affairs ever calm down, I will court her within an inch of her dignity, but first I must deal with Purvis.”
Phillip was silent for a long moment. The Twid burbled by at the foot of the garden, birds flitted from branch to branch, and a mild breeze stirred dappled shadows on the flagstones. Phillip had found a way to be happy here, a heroic accomplishment, but one that had come at some cost.
