Page 107 of To Wed an Heiress
“They’re welcome to it,” she said.
She would prefer living in a half-ruined castle with a courageous, proud, and impecunious earl.
They didn’t speak again all the way back to Macrory House.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Lennox made it to the top of Ben Uaine and stood there looking down at Duddingston Castle, the yoke that had been fixed around his neck after Robert died. He hadn’t handled his responsibility as easily or as well as his older brother, but it hadn’t been for lack of trying.
Along with that burden had come another: pride, the requirement that he never forget he was a Caitheart. If he’d practiced as a physician in Inverness, people wouldn’t know where he came from and if they did, it wouldn’t have mattered. He’d lost that anonymity when he’d been forced to come home.
Connor hadn’t been able to sell his latest invention and Lennox hadn’t come up with anything in the meantime. In a few months he’d have the income from the timber and some from fishing, but without something extra the next year would be difficult financially. He’d be able to pay Irene and Connor, but any additional expenses would be foolish to assume.
Like welcoming a bride to Duddingston.
How much was he supposed to give up for his birthright? How much sacrifice would it demand of him?
Mercy was going to leave him shortly and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
What could he offer her? A half-ruined castle and an empty title. Hardly a promising future. She was accustomed to so much more. More than he could provide.
He moved to the north side of Ben Uaine, following paths he’d learned as a boy. From here he could see to the farthest point of Loch Arn. The wind was soft today, barely a breeze ruffling his shirt, carrying with it the scent of pine from the forest.
Many times he’d stood here in the midst of winter, feeling proud because he’d climbed Ben Uaine in spite of the ice and snow. Now in the middle of summer there was still a hint of the chill beneath the warm air. A reminder of what was to come.
Somehow he was going to have to let Mercy go back to America.
He felt empty. Was this how the rest of his life was going to be? He couldn’t imagine living for decades like this. He’d accustomed himself to his hermitage until Mercy had come along. How was he supposed to forget her and retreat once more into that life, never seeing anyone but Connor and Irene? Never feeling joy or happiness.
She was an heiress.
He was a pauper.
She lived in a mansion.
He lived in a castle.
Her father was wealthy.
His had been an earl.
Her life had been constrained by love.
His had been dictated by his heritage.
But for wealth, their lives hadn’t been all that dissimilar.
Was wealth going to be the only thing that stood between him and happiness?
His airship might garner him some attention, but realistically that probably wouldn’t happen for a year or two. Or never. He could put aside his inventions and work toward reestablishing those industries that had begun to flourish under Robert’s stewardship. He might be able to provide for a family, but not right away.
How long would he have to wait?
The future stretched out before him uncertain and unwritten. Yet here he was, standing on Ben Uaine, a place where he’d often come to challenge his courage. He believed in himself enough to throw himself off a mountain in a creation of wood and cloth. Why, then, didn’t he trust himself enough to provide for Mercy? Yes, it might be difficult at first, but he could do it.
He didn’t want to lose this chance at happiness. Not when it seemed Providence had literally put Mercy in his path.
He loved her. That was the most important point of all and it was going to be more than enough to start. He didn’t want her money. After meeting Rutherford, he had the thought that she wouldn’t remain an heiress for long, especially if she agreed to marry him. He didn’t give a flying farthing if she came to him penniless. In fact, he’d prefer it.
