Page 3 of The Highland Heist
A twinge of guilt pinched in her chest.
Perkin’s brow rose again. “Not—not when the new owners wish for different sorts of improvements, my lady.”
And now she doubted her hearing.New owners?
“They have more modern views than your father and took to implementing those designs as soon as the purchase was finalized.”
It was Grace’s turn to blink. Surely, there must be some mistake. “What do you mean? New owners?”
He shifted his attention from Grace to Frederick and back, and with a deep sigh, he lowered his head. “You—you haven’t heard?”
A splash of cold branched through Grace’s middle and she turned to Frederick to see if he understood. He looked serious. Grace couldn’t seem to find her voice, and even if she could, she wasn’t certain what to say. None of this made sense.
“Are you saying Rutledge House is under new ownership?” Her husband voiced the slow growing awareness in her mind.
“Yes, sir.” Perkins turned his attention to Grace. “I—I thought Mr. Ferguson would have written to you to alert you of the situation.”
“The situation?” Her knees weakened the slightest bit, which was the oddest thing, because her knees rarely weakened to anything except Frederick’s kisses.
And occasionally while reading an excellently terrifying book.
Her stomach clenched. But this moment fit neither one of those descriptions. So what on earth was wrong with her?
“We’ve been traveling on our honeymoon trip,” Frederick explained, stepping nearer. “So any letter may have missed us.”
“But we didn’t receive a telegram either.” Grace studied Perkins, trying to sort out the reason why her eyes had started to burn a little.
“That explains why a solicitor arrived yesterday in search of you.”
A solicitor?Good heavens, what on earth is going on?
“I would invite you inside to explain.” Perkins glanced behind him. “But the new family … well, I stayed on …” He cleared his throat. “They are not accepting visitors at this time since they are newly arrived.”
Grace’s mind stuttered over her thoughts in the most alarming way. Her last letter from Father gave no indication of selling Rutledge House or of any desire to leave.
“What has happened?” Grace stilled herself against the sudden rise in emotions and held Perkins gaze. “Tell me, Perkins.”
“My lady, I–I’m not certain—”
“Youmusttell me.” A sudden heat rose into her face. “Clearly, you know.”
Frederick placed his palm on Grace’s back, stepping closer to her side, dousing her sudden anxiety in a sweet blanket of his presence. “I understand you may not wish to break confidences, Perkins, but we are in need of direction, and you have the information to assist us.”
“Yes, my lord.” Perkins nodded, his shoulders drooping from their stiffened state. She’d seen that look plenty of times too. Usually, when he’d been tasked with finding Grace from some hidden location.
But this reason felt much larger than any of those silly times.
“It is my understanding that Mr. Ferguson has declared bankruptcy and all of his debts have been called in.”
The words made sense, but Grace couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the meaning. Father hadn’t been the most clever with finances, but bankruptcy?
“Six weeks ago, everything seemed to come to a head, so Mr. Ferguson made a quick sale of the house, as well as any of his other properties, to cover those debts.”
“But it wasn’t a surprise, was it, Perkins?”
Grace shifted her attention to Frederick. What could he mean? Not a surprise? It completely shockedher.
“No, my lord.” The butler lowered his gaze again. “It was my understanding that Mr. Ferguson had been struggling with finances for some time, and his last few investments had not been … successful.”
