Page 4 of Romancing the Scot
Hugh Pennington, Viscount Greysteil, Lord Justice of the Commissary Court in Edinburgh, stared in silence at the line of wooden toy blocks on his desk, trying to retain his composure. The burly, often overbearing Earl of Nithsdale wasn’t making the task any easier.
Hugh rarely attempted to resolve legal disputes at his family estate of Baronsford, but today was an exception. He could not allow an obvious wrong to linger on for a fortnight before a lower court had a chance to review the case. The thought of letting an innocent man sit one day longer in the local jail was too much for him.
The Earl of Nithsdale, newly arrived from London, had come immediately to Baronsford in response to Hugh’s invitation and then, seated across the desk, had filled the next ten minutes with all the fabrications his people had plied him with. Just as he would have done in court, Hugh listened dutifully.
In the walled gardens outside his study’s tall casement windows, a sporadic rain was falling on the late spring flowers. At the end of the gardens, where the meadows fell away to the lake, a fog had settled in, partially obscuring the trees of the orchards and the deer park beyond.
“What message would I send, to my employees and to others, if I don’t support them now?” Nithsdale asked.
Hugh turned his gaze on the earl. “It comes down to this. Because of the actions of your gamekeeper, you are responsible for a man being wrongfully imprisoned for eleven days.”
“I . . . I . . . responsible?” the earl stammered.
“Mr. Darby was sleeping beneath a tree next to the road when your employees attacked and carried him off to the bailiff.”
“I was told he was trespassing.”
“He’d been denied a room in the inn of your own village.”
“No one even mentioned that,” the earl replied, his tone reflecting his surprise. “I was told that he was poaching.”
“According to Darby, he’d eaten nothing but some cold bread he carried with him. There’s no evidence of a poached bird or fish or deer.”
“For most of the year, I am in London. You understand that I must support my gamekeeper’s word over a vagrant.”
“Darby is not a vagrant,” Hugh said shortly. “He was only in the area because of an offer of a position by your own neighbor, Lennox. He carries in his pocket at this very moment a letter of employment.”
“I know nothing of any letter.” The earl’s embarrassment showed in his reddened face.
“Darby showed the letter to the bailiff while your own gamekeeper was still in the room.”
Nithsdale stood and walked to a window, and Hugh waited. The earl could sometimes be a pompous ass, but he wasn’t a villain.
“That bloody gamekeeper has done this before,” he said finally, returning to his chair. “Heavy-handed and rarely forthright when it comes to the details.”
“What do you plan to do about it?” Hugh asked.
Nithsdale spread his hands in a sign seeking reconciliation. “You know how difficult it is to find good workers. The man is not of the highest caliber, I grant you, but he served in my regiment on the Peninsula. Lost half his toes to the frost there.”
“We’re all struggling with the availability of workers.” Hugh picked up his pen and wrote instructions to the bailiff. “This is how we shall resolve the situation. Darby will be released immediately. And you will compensate him with a month of the gamekeeper’s wages.”
“He will be incensed.”
Hugh’s critical stare had the earl rethinking his response.
“That’s fair, I suppose,” the man grumbled.
“And in return, I shall not have your gamekeeper bound over for battery and wrongful imprisonment. I leave it to you how you want to handle your man.”
Nithsdale began to say something, but stopped. A decision had been handed down, and no one in this region—regardless of their position in society, their education, their influence, or their friendship with the family—would dispute Viscount Greysteil’s dispensation of justice under the law.
“Not exactly the welcome that I was expecting on my return from London,” the earl said wryly, standing.
“Perhaps a quiet day of angling down on the Tweed will put everything right.”
“That is a capital idea, Greysteil. Fishing would be just the thing to put this businessandthe annoying bustle of London behind. Care to join me?”
“Thank you, but no.” Hugh stood and walked his neighbor to the door. “I need to go back to Edinburgh for a few days.”
