Page 10 of A Scot's Pride
Freya sat up a little straighter, now worried about what he wanted to relay.
“You’re aware that with five daughters and no sons that my property, this house, will not be entailed to you or your sisters.”
Freya nodded, confused about why her father wanted to speak about this. “Papa, that is so far away.” Since they were born, they’d been told daily by their mother that it was their job to marry. Their cousin Albert was going to inherit the property when their father passed. Followed closely by that edict had been they must marry well else leave their mother and any unmarried sisters destitute.
Papa smiled sadly. “Aye. Far enough away but close enough that it is time for you to start thinking of marriage.”
“But Riley—”
Her father waved away her protestation. “Riley will manage fine. I need to be certain that all of you, including your mother, are taken care of.”
Freya bit her lip to keep herself from replying. It was a little late for him to be thinking of such things now. He could have, years ago, set aside a trust for them all, but he’d not. Her father wasn’t very good at managing money at all. One only had to look around their house here in London to see. The fading paper on the walls, the way it curled in the corners in need of repair. The scuffed floors, the tiny leak in the roof.
Their dresses were traded between the five of them and mended and redesigned to be different. Maybe he’d not set up a trust because there’d been nothing to set it up with.
“I’ve been trying to split the estate between you girls and your cousin. But there’s nothing I can do. All of it is going to Albert.” Her father rubbed his brows and then his eyes and Freya couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. Perhaps she should be more charitable in her thinking. He was trying as best he could. And the exhaustion of it was wearing.
They’d grown up happy here and without want for food or companionship. And she had never minded seeing the transformation of one dress into something new. But at what cost to their father’s pride?
“Thank you for trying, Papa.” She leaned forward and took his hand where it rested on his desk, giving a little squeeze.
He glanced up at her with a deep sigh. “Albert is coming for a visit.”
Now that she hadn’t expected. It was one thing to say, “hurry up and get married,” but quite another to say the man who’d inherit everything was planning a visit to count his chickens before they were hatched.
“Why?” She found herself suddenly defensive of what they had. “To take stock of what will soon be his? Is he going to smother you in your sleep while he’s here?”
“Oh, my dear, nothing as bad as all that.” He chuckled, the only one parent to find humor in her dramatics. If it had been Mother, she’d have fainted with a fit of the vapors. “I think Albert hopes to ask Riley to be his wife.”
Freya’s mouth fell open. In a rush, she said, “But Papa, you must know she’s in love with Lord Ashbury.”
Dear heavens, if her sister were made to give up her hopes for Ashbury and marry boring Albert, it would mean the end of happiness for Riley and, indeed, for Freya, who held out such hopes for her sister and love.
“For years, yes, but neither has done anything about it. And as much as I’d like to cease, I continue to age daily.”
“Lord Ashbury is coming to take her for a ride in Hyde Park today. Papa, this is a good sign.”
Her father’s expression lit up at hearing that bit of news.
“That is reassuring,” he said. “And are you going as well?”
“I am.” She grimaced a little at her riding partner. Some of her time staring at her toast this morning had also been coming up with things to say that didn’t make her sound like an idiot and that would engage him in long answers she didn’t have to participate in. Anything to force the time go by.
“The three of you?” Her father glanced toward the window as if he expected to see Lord Ashbury trotting up the road already. “Why not stay behind and allow her time to shine? I love you dearly, Freya, but Riley tends to be overshadowed by your light when you’re together.”
Freya frowned. That revelation from him hurt, and she hoped it wasn’t true. “Really? You think I take away attention from her?”
Her father nodded, his bushy brows wrinkling together. “Only because you’re not as shy.”
“Well, as it happens, I have a partner for the jaunt. Lord Lovat. So, she will have Lord Ashbury all to herself while I try to think of ways to keep the Scot entertained.”
Her father’s eyebrows shot to his forehead. “The Scot?”
“Yes, Papa. Lord Lovat is Lady Daven’s nephew.”
“I know who he is.” Her father’s mouth turned down. “Perhaps you should decline.”
“But Papa…” She did want to decline. But she also knew her sister would be more animated with Lord Ashbury if she were there. Freya was a comfort to Riley, and that added comfort would allow her to come a little bit out of her shell, even if Freya were riding behind.
