But . . . what if he or she were not?
Alex had helplessly watched Kieran spiral into a morass of addiction and mental agony when other tantalizing reports came to naught.
And this bit of information was earthquaking.
If this person was not Jamie . . .
“Kieran, I agree that we should investigate this to its fullest,” Alex began, “but ye must prepare yourself for it to come to nothing. I would hate for you to . . .”
Alex’s voice drifted off.
Kieran shook his head, hands on his hips, head down, chest heaving.
“I know ye are concerned about me, but I cannae stop.” He lifted his head, pale eyes glittering in the firelight. “I willnae stop until I suss it all out. I must find Reverend Gillespie. I’ll speak with Andrew at first light and see if I can join his Runner in the hunt. I havenae said this tae anyone yet, but I feel it.” He tapped his breastbone, his voice becoming hoarse. “I feel Jamie here, tucked into my heart, as if hers still beats, too. I think that’s why I cannae accept the reality of her death . . . because she still feels so veryalive.”
Alex held his tongue. He understood Kieran’s torment in ways that he hadn’t a few months ago.
The thought of Lottie being lost somewhere, and Alex stuck in a never-ending limbo, wondering what had happened . . .
His hand clenched.
Something of Alex’s thoughts must have shown on his face.
“You’re not arguing with me? Trying to manage my expectations? That’s uncharacteristic of ye.” Kieran grinned. “Before he went tae bed, Andrew mentioned something about a fair lass who’s caught your eye. I believe there was something about a marquisate, as well?”
Alex winced. “Aye. That’s about the right of it, I suppose.”
“Well, I have all night tae hear the story,” Kieran sat down. “I cannae do anything about Jamie until first light, now can I?”
Alex shook his head but told him about Lottie. About her resilient spirit, clever mind, and innate goodness. About the marquisate tangle and both their wishes with regard to it. About Lord Frank’s current path to squeeze profits from the marquisate, and Alex’s recognition that he would likely have to assume the title. About the gossip running wild about Lottie and himself.
Kieran listened with eager attention, a wry smile appearing now and again.
“In short, I dinnae know what tae do, Kieran,” Alex finished. “I fair adore the lass, but I cannae see how the situation resolves itself well for us. She is understandably loyal to her family. If I declare my intention to fight the attainder and assume the marquisate, she will feel betrayed. Lady Charlotte will not forgive me.”
“Aye, but ye are a man of honor, Alex. I know ye. You cannae sit idle and watch Lord Frank pillage the marquisate. Ye must do something.”
“I know. That’s the worst part of it.” Alex ran a hand through his hair. “I assume the marquisate but lose both of my loves in the process—Lady Charlotteandmy medical practice.”
“Look, Alex.” Kieran leaned forward, eyes bright. “Ye worry. It’s your job. Ye spend your life trying tae save everything and everyone—patients, a marquisate, a fair lass, evenmyselffrom time to time.”
“Pardon?”
Kieran rolled his eyes. “Ye know what I mean. Ye have a wee tendency tae act like the Almighty himself sometimes, trying tae control the world around yourself. But ye have tae know by now that ye cannae do that. Ye cannae control even the smallest bit.”
“Whatever are ye on about, Kieran?” Alex frowned. “I dinnae think myself tae be some godlike figure—”
“Do ye not?” Kieran laughed. “I’ve never seen ye eat even a gram of sugar. You’re so concerned about the potential downside of alcohol that ye willnae touch the stuff.”
“That’s just common sense—”
“Before this trip tae London, when was the last time ye allowed McNeal tae take one of your patients? Or were ye too concerned that he would muck it up?”
“McNeal has his own case load. He doesnae need mine, too.” But even as Alex said the words, he recognized that he had been reluctant to allow McNeal to take on more work. How many letters had he sent to the poor man over the last months? “Besides, what does any of this have tae do with the marquisate?”
“Just this—ye can be a bit black and white in your thinking. There is no middle ground for ye. No moderation. Ye can have Lady Charlotte as a wife, clearly and cleanly, or ye cannae have her at all. Ye are a doctor, so therefore ye cannae be a marquess.”
“Kieran—”
