There was that.
“The other Lords in Berwick, allies of your parents, can’t be happy you voted against every bill your parents supported.”
“I’m not my parents. I will always do right by my tenants regardless of what my neighbors say,” he said. “Have the money sent for the repairs to the cottage immediately.”
The solicitor sighed. “I will tally the cost of rebuilding the cottage.”
“I would like the repairs completed before the weather turns chilly.”
“Very good, Your Grace.” The man nodded. “When did the home burn?”
“The day following your message”—Gill’s hands stiffen behind his burgundy tailcoat—“ If not for the home being so close to the water mill, the cottage would be burned to the ground.”
“Was anyone hurt?” The solicitor paled.
“No. The family was not home.” An angry tick worked along his jaw, giving free rein to his rising fury. That last incident, coupled with the attempted kidnapping, squashed any lingering reservations regarding intervening in his son’s upbringing.
Turning away from the solicitor, he faced the window again. This time, he didn’t notice the crests on passing carriages, the pickpockets pretending casualness as they braced the side of shops, or the pedestrians who offered them no more than a glance of disregard.
“You will add my son’s name to my final will and testament. Ensure no one can question or contest his right to my wealth,” Gill instructed. If Caleb wanted the title, so be it, but he’d be damned if he left a single shilling to be snatched.
“Of course, Your Grace, those documents were drafted upon your request at the beginning of the year. They only need filing in the courts for your claim as Edwin’s father to be legitimized,” the man said, scribbling notes on a sheet of parchment. “Who will be the trustee for the boy? I assume you want someone other than your cousin, especially since you’ve worked so hard to restore your family's wealth.”
The person that immediately came to mind was the dark beauty with piercing eyes. “I’ll give thought to a trustee and let you know.”
“Very good, Your Grace.”
“I will also be taking him home with me today.” As soon as he uttered the words, his decision felt right. Although he didn’t know how to be loving or affectionate, or even a father, his son belonged at Montdale House.
“And will he be returning to the orphanage once the danger has passed, Your Grace?”
Gill stiffened at the solicitor’s words.“No.”
The man gaped, but thankfully didn’t question his right to raise his son as he saw fit.
“Is everything arranged then?” The man peered over the rim of his spectacles. “A governess…a nanny to care for the child?”
Gill clenched his teeth. Of course, he hadn’t considered a nanny. Surely the child was old enough to wash behind his ears.
“Perhaps, Your Grace, he is safer…er, his needs are better met if he stays with the women. Now that they know the circumstances, they can keep a watchful eye over the boy.”
“He is not safe in London.” If the incidents were not by chance, there was no telling how far the culprit would go to see their plans through. “Do as I say, Geffrey.” He would not remain in the city a minute more than necessary. As far as the women went, he trusted none with the task of protecting his son.