Page 4 of A Rogue in Twilight
His siblings looked grim—his sister Fiona pale but composed, their younger brothers, William and Patrick, scowling. James preferred distance in most things, actual and emotional. That was serving him well today with the revelation of the will.
Scarcely a farthing would come to any of them from their grandmother unless the astonishing conditions of her will and testament were met. Ruination could be in store for all of them, James thought.
“What could make this worse?” Patrick shoved a hand through his dark hair.
“A few elves might complement the situation nicely,” William drawled.
James huffed a laugh. William, his next youngest brother, was a quiet-spoken physician who had hoped to be able to open a hospital with his share of the inheritance; Fiona, their sister, was an independent, serene woman with an academic bent for the study of fossil rock that made her any scholar’s equal, and a bit of inheritance would help her research. Fiona stood now, stretching out a hand to calm Patrick, a Signet clerk with a strong temperament and an ambition to rise through the law courts.
As for himself, James was content as a professor of geology. He had few real needs. But what Grandmother posthumously asked of all of them was untenable.
“Lady Struan’s fortune will be divided, with conditions,” Mr. Browne repeated. “Apart from your grandfather’s estate at his death a few years ago, which left a modest sum after his considerable expenditures.”
“He helped ease the suffering of displaced Highlanders during the clearances of so many from their homes,” Fiona said. “None of us begrudge his decisions.”
Browne nodded. “Lady Struan acquired a personal fortune through publications and properties. She allowed Lord Eldin, her advisor in those matters, to sell off some of her properties in the last few years. Struan House remains, and will go to Lord Struan, who inherited his grandfather’s title two years ago.”
James leaned in the doorway, silent. As the eldest grandson, he had assumed the title; their father had died when he and Fiona had been nine, their brothers younger. As a titled but not particularly wealthy peer, James had a modest bank account and earned his daily living as a professor of natural philosophyat the University of Edinburgh. He had no aspirations of higher circumstances, enjoying his work and a peaceful academic life.
He had mourned his grandmother privately, concealing his grief as was natural to him, having learned it at an early age. He had hoped that her fortune would ensure the future of his siblings, especially his sister. As a penniless viscount, he could not adequately do for his twin or his brothers, though he would if he could.
But—fairies? James felt as bewildered as the rest. He glanced at Patrick, who still seethed; Fiona’s air of serenity hid a fiery temper; and William, brow furrowed beneath golden hair, was as skilled as James at hiding his thoughts.
As a boy, James had kept himself to himself after the deaths of his parents had separated him and his siblings into different homes for fostering. William and Patrick had gone to uncles; James and Fiona to a great-aunt. He had never entirely emerged from that emotional exile, as Fiona sometimes pointed out. But his twin saw what others might not.
William cleared his throat. “I know Grandmother was fond of fairy tales and scribbled some of her own. But I did not realize she took it quite it so seriously.”
Fiona sat beside William in a graceful swirl of black satin, her bonnet’s curved rim highlighting her pretty face and wispy brown curls. Gazing at his twin sister, James suddenly knew her next words.A kerfuffle—
“It’s a kerfuffle,” she said, “but we shall resolve it.” She smiled tightly.
Did he often guess her words from simple logic, knowing her so well, or was it the mysterious bond of twinship? James leaned toward scientific reason, which reigned cool and supreme in his thinking.
“More than a kerfuffle,” he said. “This is a disaster.”
“I do wonder if Grandmother was fully capable when she decided these conditions,” Patrick said. “I doubt anyone influenced her, for she was smart and stubborn. But she was very ill at the last. William, as a physician, what say you?”
“Her condition made her increasingly frail, but her mind seemed balanced. I saw her often enough and noticed no diminished faculties. James saw her often too when she was in the house on Charlotte Square and he was at the university and living nearby.”
“Grandmother always knew her mind. I never doubted her faculties,” James said. “She mentioned the will, but never a hint of this.” During the last months of her illness, he had grown closer to his grandmother. Yet he felt dismayed now, having no idea of her intentions recorded in her last will and testament.
“I knew of Lady Struan’s plans,” Sir Walter Scott said then. “And I regret that I was not able to confide in any of you.” He smiled sadly.
The MacCarrans looked at him in unison. The poet had been Lady Struan’s good friend, and though James did not know him well, he had always admired Sir Walter’s genius, integrity, his loyalty to his friends, and his great love of Scotland.
“Grandmother so enjoyed your visits, Sir Walter,” Fiona said. “We very much appreciate your attention to her. She looked forward to King George’s arrival in Edinburgh, too. It is tragic that she died before the event could take place.”
Scott nodded. “She was enthusiastic in her suggestions for the upcoming festivities. I know she will be there in spirit for the king’s jaunt next month.”
“And we will all be there in her honor,” James said.
“Now that the will has been read,” Mr. Browne said after a pause, “there are some points to discuss. Each of you has individual conditions.” He turned a few pages. “Your obligations must be fulfilled or you will be considered to have failed.”
“What if we cannot meet the conditions?” Patrick asked.
“Then most of the inheritance will go to another party.” Mr. Brown took up a stack of folded and sealed letters and handed them around. Sir Walter assisted, leaning on his cane as he limped across the room to present a packet to Fiona, while James, Patrick, and William received theirs as well.
“The conditions are explained in the letters. Once the stipulations are met,” Mr. Browne continued, “you will each be entitled to an equal share of Lady Struan’s fortune, approximately fifty thousand pounds apiece. However, the portions will be reduced to five thousand pounds if you cannot, or will not, meet the conditions of the will.”
