Page 8 of A Caribbean Heiress in Paris
He didn’t recognize it, was certain he’d never seen it. And yet something about the way that Apollo was looking at him, his eyes serious, made Evan’s skin prickle with apprehension.
“This was your mother’s,” Apollo said stonily, and Evan’s stomach soured. “The lock was removed by me. We had to look inside to make sure it contained what we’d been after.”
“How did you find it?” Evan croaked.
“It took a lot of doing. I didn’t want to tell you unless we knew the lead was good. One of my men located it.” In the last year Evan had learned that his brother had many men working for him, and quite a number of them did not exactly observe the rule of law. “He tracked down the name of the woman who had attended to your mother at that sanatorium.” Five years before Catriona Sinclair’s death, the duke had had her put in a sanatorium, claiming she was a danger to herself and her family. Neither Evan nor any of his siblings had been allowed to visit her. She’d died there alone.
“After a lot of doing, we found an address for the attendant in Stirling. She passed away a few months ago, but she’d left the box with her daughter.” Apollo looked quite pleased with himself, and though his usual bravado was tempered somewhat, his eyebrows were arched in an expression Evan had seen in the mirror many times. Even after all these months Evan found himself taken aback by this man who looked so much like him. His brother’s brown skin and curlier hair were the only two things that were really different from his own. Otherwise, they could’ve been twins.
“How did you get her to hand it over?”
“She parted with it once we told her we were working for you, and after we put a few guineas in her purse. It’s in there,” Apollo told him ominously.
Suddenly, Evan felt unsteady, unprepared. He’d been hoping they could find his mother’s will, but he had never expected a box. In the seven years since her death, he’d held on to his anger toward his father like a lifeline. He’d pushed down every reminder of the woman who’d birthed him. He told himself he didn’t deserve to dwell on those tender memories when he’d failed to save her.
He tightened his fingers on the lid to stop the shaking as the contents were revealed. There was an opal bracelet and an emerald necklace he recognized, along with several rings. One he hadn’t seen since he was a boy. His mother’s aquamarine ring. It had been a gift from his grandmother, and Catriona had always said she would give it to him or Iain, whichever of the two was first to marry. But when Evan announced his intention to marry Charlotte, Catriona had never offered it.
Not that Charlotte would have been content with a simple aquamarine and a few small diamonds. She’d been very particular about the jeweler and stones she preferred.
He removed the jewelry carefully, setting each piece on the table beside him, and returned to uncover two small envelopes. The sight of his mother’s elegant looping handwriting made his throat close for a moment. He breathed through his nose, reading his sisters’ names on one of the envelopes and his and Iain’s on the other. He set those aside to be examined more closely when he was alone. The only thing left was a small bundle of folded papers.
“The will.”
Apollo nodded, but his expression changed. “Yes, but Evan—” something about the warning in his voice made Evan snap his gaze back to his brother “—there’s a complication.”
“Acomplication?” He scanned the words on the pages quickly, his heart hammering. There was no satisfaction in this. Winning like this was not winning. The thought of his mother alone in that place knowing no one would come for her gnawed at him. No, this was no victory, but he would make his father pay.
He made himself focus on the paper in his hands, his anger rising with every word he read. To Beatrice and Adalyn she’d left dowries they’d never received. To Iain she’d left the town house in Heriot Row and the estate in Dundee, which he would have received at the time of his marriage. The same properties their father had borrowed against so many times they were currently in the process of being repossessed by the bank. Before going on he made himself reach for the tumbler of whisky Apollo had placed in front on him and took a searing gulp. The liquid sat in his stomach like sludge. The final wish of his mother was for the Braeburn to go to Evan. Despite his dark mood, his pulse raced as he read, and then the complication became clear. The house, the land and the distillery would go to him on the occasion of his marriage...as a wedding gift.
“A wedding gift?” he asked, biting off a curse.
“That’s what it says,” Apollo retorted, with a hint of a sardonic smile on his lips Evan would’ve dearly loved to swipe off. His mother had always been obsessed with her children marrying. It was one of those things Evan could never understand. Her own union to his father was so troubled. And yet, she maintained the hope that they would find love. Bitterness flooded his mouth at the thought of what his mother would’ve thought of the duke’s new wife.
“The duke can’t refute the contents of that will.” Apollo’s assurances pulled Evan out of his ruminations and brought him back to the problem at hand. His brother sipped from his own whisky and shrugged. “It’s not ideal, but the document is verifiable and legal. The duke has to give you the distillery once you get married.”
Wrung out, Evan slumped back in the leather armchair as he tried to make sense of what this meant. The distillery could be his...if he married. Evan could not think of anything less appealing than the prospect of tying himself to someone, even if it was temporary. But he would still do it, whatever it took. This was not merely about finally claiming what was rightfully his. The distillery was his future. It would be his livelihood. Especially after Apollo made his existence known and assumed his place as heir apparent.
Not that the Duke of Annan had anything but debts for his successor.
“We began the process of acquiring the last of it this morning,” Apollo voiced into Evan’s stunned silence. It took a second for him to realize what his brother had said, but once he did, he turned his full attention on Apollo. His brother, with Evan’s help, had over the past six months identified every debt their father had accrued and had systematically bought them out. Every penny the duke had borrowed, he now owed to his sons.
“How long?”
Apollo lifted a shoulder, a cold glimmer in his eyes. “Ten days, perhaps a fortnight,” he said and smiled darkly. “Depends on how shambolic our father left things.”
“We have two weeks, then,” Evan scoffed. Their father had the tendency of grabbing for money without much regard to where and under what conditions he signed off. It had taken a dozen solicitors and accountants to untangle the mess he’d made.
“Be ready in one,” Apollo said dryly. “There is still the matter of when and where we will make our father aware of our little partnership.”
A shiver coursed through Evan at his brother’s sinister tone. Evan had absolutely no qualms about publicly humiliating their father; on the contrary, he would relish every second of it. Various scenarios had been discussed, but they could not set a time until the will had been found. Evan patted the invitation from the duke in his jacket pocket. “I’ve just been invited to the duke’s yearly birthday ball to take place next month in Edinburgh.”
Apollo’s grin was sharp as the blade of a knife. “Mine must have gotten lost in the post,” he said caustically. “What kind of sons would we be if we did not help our father celebrate?” Every word out of the man’s mouth dripped with malice.
It would be an unholy mess. Utter and complete humiliation for the duke.
“We must be there, of course,” Evan said as a frisson of anticipation licked up his spine.
“I suggest you sort out your marital situation by then. It will go infinitely better if we do it all at the same time.”
