Page 62 of The Highland Heist
It somehow made her want to smile a little.
Which would have been inappropriate considering the circumstances, but it still didn’t stop her from wanting to.
“So much good your detective work has done us,” Lillias muttered, breaking the spell. “The will is destroyed. And even the funds Mother left will run out eventually. I’ll need to find someone.”
The murmured words barely made it to Grace’s ears, and she wasn’t fully certain she comprehended them. Find someone else? Grace shot Frederick a look, and even his brows rose in surprise.
“Find someone?” Grace echoed, brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”
“To marry,” Lillias snapped. “What else can I do?” She turned back to them and marched to the tea table, pouring herself a cup with a hand shaking as badly as Grace’s ever did. “Father has no money, Tony is … gone”—her voice wavered on the word—”and I have a child to provide for. I must find a husband willing to take us in.”
“I don’t know how long Mr. Barclay may remain unfit to travel or when all your affairs will be in order so we can do so.” Grace stood, almost as much in surprise at her sister’s statements as in the need to solve this dilemma. “But the inheritance isn’t lost to us yet, Lillias.”
Lillias froze, teacup halfway to her lips. “What?”
“There’s another copy of the will at Mosslea,” Grace explained. “Mr. Barclay mentioned it. If we get there within three weeks, and if he’s well enough to travel, he can help us find it. “That is, if we want to continue with seeking to claim the inheritance at all.”
Frederick raised a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a way that seemed to question her very use of the wordif.Grace nearly smiled back. It was true—wasting Tony’s sacrifice, the faint chance of another will, and the excitement of another mystery seemed downright reckless.
The teacup clattered onto its saucer as Lillias stared. “Another copy?”
“Don’t you remember? Mr. Barclay told us this afternoon.” Grace nodded. “He said there was a safeguard—a second copy—hidden somewhere in the castle. And he seemed to know exactly where.”
“And if Mr. Barclay isn’t fit to travel,” Frederick added, his gaze meeting Grace’s with an approving glint before shifting to Lillias, “will you allow us to playact a little longer to help find it?”
“There’s clearly no time to waste.” Lillias sent him a glare and placed her cup on the table with a decided clink. “I say we leave for Scotland in the morning.”
“In the morning?” Not that the idea didn’t sound thrilling, but how on earth could they do it? Grace frowned. It seemed rather strange to be the one advocating for reasonable thinking. “Lillias, we’re hardly in a position to set out immediately. Mr. Barclay isn’t conscious, your cook is wounded, and there’s Tony’s … arrangements to consider.” Grace softened her tone. “We need at least a few days.”
“If Mr. Barclay cannot accompany us, we will need all the time we can to search for the hidden will,” Lillias shot back. “So not only must we travel across the ocean and find Mosslea in Scotland, but we’ll also have to search a castle for a will hidden somewhere in its walls.” Lillias pressed a hand to her forehead and dissolved into the nearest chair. “Oh, heavens. I sound like I’m quoting the plot of one of your ridiculous novels.”
It really was sad how unappreciated good novels were in her family.
Frederick, however, took up the mantle with a grin. “Precisely why you should be reassured. Grace has an uncanny knack for using fiction to solve real-world problems.” He stepped to Grace’s side, the playful glint in his eyes softening as he addressed Lillias. “We’ll do everything in our power to secure the inheritance—and to keep you safe. But this only works if we cooperate, Lillias.”
The use of her Christian name landed stiffly from his lips, but Grace saw the effort. He didn’t trust her sister—Grace couldn’t blame him—but he was trying, and that was something.
A knock at the door interrupted the moment, and Grace turned to see the last person she expected. Mrs. James. The sight of the housekeeper threw Grace’s assumptions into a whirl. If the will was destroyed and with that any possibility of Grace and Lillias signing it on this side of the Atlantic, then why would Mrs. James still need to serve as housekeeper while working for Clark?
The young woman looked from one person to the next and dipped her head. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Mrs. Dixon, but the doctor is on his way out and refused to leave without speaking with one of you.”
Lillias sighed as if exhausted by the request, so Grace moved to the door. “I’ll see to him, and perhaps you could help Lillias with the necessary arrangements in the meantime?” She paused, her expression softening as she addressed Frederick. “I have no idea how to plan a funeral, but I’m afraid you’ve had an unhealthy amount of experience with them.”
Lillias sent a look to Frederick, and Mrs. James’ brows rose before Grace followed her out, plucking up her parasol on the way out of the room.
“She has the very best heart, I am sure, but I can’t imagine having to live with her and not become exasperated every day.” Lillias sighed, studying Frederick with those pale blue eyes of hers.
He’d once contemplated those eyes would belong to his future wife.
Once hoped a real romance would grow between them, even if they’d been resigned to an arranged marriage.
But God had chosen better for him. He’d never have contemplated marrying Grace. She’d been too much outside the realm of what he thought he’d needed for Havensbrooke and his legacy.
But she’d been everything God had known Frederick had needed for his heart, soul, and future. And he was profoundly grateful.
“I’ll be happy to assist you in any of your funeral plans, if I can,” he said, curbing the sudden edge in his voice. “I’m sure you must be feeling overwhelmed.”
His distaste for her previous statement didn’t go unnoticed. One of Lillias’ golden brows arched. She didn’t speak, but her silence was heavy as she walked back to the tea table, warming her cup with another pour of the amber liquid.
