Balfour led the way through the back gardens. “I look at that wee lad, and all I can think is my brother had best hie himself back from Canada soon.”
“Your brother?”
“My oldest brother, by damn. We had a letter from him a year or so ago, though the man’s been officially declared dead. The letter wasn’t dated, you see, and my uncle was able to convince the courts it wasn’t proof my brother yet breathes.”
Tye had heard the gossip. The present earl was a younger son, styled as the earl with all the honors attendant thereto upon declaration of his brother’s death. Gossip was apparently not up to date.
“I didn’t know of this letter. I gather you would be pleased to see him?”
“Pleased? I’ll kiss the sodding bugger on both cheeks and dance the Fling. The verra last thing I want is for my own wee bairn to grow up mincing and bowing his life away as the Earl of Balfour.”
“And what is your uncle’s interest in the earldom?” Tye didn’t particularly care, but Balfour had opened the topic, and it was serving to pass the time.
“He holds the earldom’s trusts, and he’ll not turn loose of them until Asher is demanding he does so in the Queen’s own English with a court order clutched in each fist. The day can’t come soon enough for me.”
“You’d relinquish the title?”
Balfour stopped walking as they gained the path to the stream. “Are you looking forward to being the next marquess? To spending half your time in the stinking confines of London so you can participate in the farce known as the Upper House of Parliament? Will you drag your family the length of the kingdom several times a year to keep up appearances in Town while trying to stay ahead of the cholera and the typhus?”
He strode off in the direction of the burn. “Bloody lot of nonsense, the title. My dear wife brought me wealth, and I share it with the earldom as she directs, but I would much rather have my brother back than all the wealth and consequence in the world. Come along, man. I want to see the great guddler in action.”
Tye followed more slowly, realizing he, too, would rather have his brother back—flaws and all—than the title his father would someday leave to him.
Except that choice was not before him.
“Will you tell Fiona of her impending journey, Balfour?”
“Not today, and possibly not ever.” As he ambled along, Balfour snapped off a sprig of heather and brought it to his nose. “I’ve been in communication with the courts, Spathfoy. Fiona was born after your brother went to his reward. She’s a Scottish citizen. Your dear papa has not filed suit in any Scottish court to gain custody of her, which leaves her, I believe, in my custody, or possibly her mother and stepfather’s.”
“I see.”
Balfour had not been idle since Tye had last seen him. He’d put two rainy days to significant use.
“What do you see?”
“You are expecting a legal action regarding guardianship of Fiona. As far as I know, none has been instituted in the English courts either.”
They’d reached the stream, and Balfour was tugging at his boots. “As far as you know?” He paused, one boot in his hand, one on his foot. “Would your dear papa make you aware of such a thing?”
“I believe he would. Why are you removing your boots?”
“My niece was impressed with your ability to tickle a fish, Spathfoy. I can’t have her head turned by both you and the lad.”
Tye used the tree Fiona had climbed to brace himself while he pulled his own boots off. “My father hasn’t any need to institute a lawsuit, Balfour.”
“He hasn’t?” Balfour dropped his socks on top of his boots and stood with his fists on his hips. “He’s simply going to lift the child from under our noses and expect we’ll accommodate his thievery?”
Tye got his second boot off, and like Balfour, draped his socks over his boot tops. Wool socks…
“My father has sent me an affidavit that ought to be sufficient to guarantee safe conduct for me and my niece from here to Northumbria.”
Balfour’s expression didn’t change, and his tone became, if anything, softer. “Don’t be keeping me in suspense, laddie. What manner of affidavit?”
Tye regarded his socks of soft gray wool. “Quinworth has sworn in writing before witnesses of good character that he’s read Gordie’s will, and in that will, Gordie is very clear that any children are to be raised under the authority of their paternal family. Both the will and the affidavit are witnessed, sealed, and otherwise legally valid documents. I’m sorry, Balfour.”
Balfour swore colorfully and at length in Gaelic. “Write to your dear papa that I will be initiating suit in the Scottish courts to establish my custody of the girl.”
“Balfour, you can’t stop me from complying with my brother’s wishes.” Though Tye wished his brother’s damned will—and his father’s preferences—hadn’t put him in such a contretemps.
“Then enjoy Fee while you have her, Spathfoy, because I will not rest until she’s safely returned to our care.”
“I will do my utmost to see that Fiona’s best interests are served during her tenure with us in Northumbria. I am bending my every effort in that direction already.”
“For the love of God, I wish you’d go bend your damned efforts somewhere else. Now shut your pretty English mouth before you scare the last fish out of the burn.”
He stalked off toward the stream, not even turning when Tye spoke again.
“I’ve proposed marriage to Miss Daniels, Balfour. I think you’ll agree that Fiona’s adjustment to new circumstances will be made easier by her step-aunt’s presence under the same roof. If Fiona’s mother can entrust the child to Miss Daniels’s care in Scotland, then surely the lady’s supervision of the girl will be adequate in England.”
And both of them knew the courts would likely see it that way, too.
Balfour turned, his expression impossible to read. “And has Hester accepted your proposal?”
“She has not—yet.”
He nodded, muttered in Gaelic about the daft, horny English getting their deserts, and slipped into the frigid water so stealthily, Tye didn’t hear even a splash.
“He has proposed marriage, Augusta.” Hester made this confession quietly, because Fiona was nearby on a blanket with the baby. Aunt Ariadne had declined to accompany them onto the terrace, making noises about her complexion that Hester suspected were intended to hide fatigue.
Beside Hester on the bench, Augusta also spoke quietly. “Is the proposal sincere, Hester? I do not mean to imply you could not earn the notice of such a man, but—”
Hester held up a hand. “I know, Augusta. My experience with Jasper has not left me with the greatest confidence in my judgment. I thought I did not like Spathfoy, but the truth is, I did not know him. He is kind.”
“Kind?”
Augusta’s dark brows rose, and Hester could see her cousin found the notion of Spathfoy’s kindness absurd.
“He teases me, often so gently I don’t even know he’s teasing. He does not take advantage of me, and Augusta, I sometimes feel I am taking advantage of him.”
“Taking advantage?”
Hester nodded, though embarrassment was making her cheeks burn. “He is very skilled in some regards.”
“Hester Daniels, what have you done?”
Augusta had anticipated her vows with Ian. Hester was almost sure of that. That wasn’t censure she heard in her cousin’s voice so much as concern. “Nothing as reprehensible as what I permitted with Jasper, I can assure you of that.”
Augusta patted her hand. “I am relieved to hear it. I would urge you to continue to exercise sound judgment in this regard. Spathfoy cannot mean to tarry here much longer.”