Over ten thousand tenanted structures in total between all estates and overfiftythousand tenants.
A hunting lodge in Aberdeenshire.
A townhouse in London.
A vast sugar and tobacco plantation in the West Indies.
Two large woolen mills in the Midlands and a slew of profitable interests in shipping and coal mining.
The catalog was extensive. Page after page of items.
The marquisate was not just a title.
It was an empire.
No wonder the late Lord Lockheade had an entire office of solicitors at his beck and call. Alex wouldn’t even know where to begin to oversee such diverse interests, even with a team of experienced clerks and secretaries.
More to the point, he didn’twantto oversee it all. He had trained to be a doctor, not a man of business. Had he wanted a life of estate issues and horse breeding, he would have taken over the family’s enterprise as his father had begged him to do after Ian’s death.
The Committee on Privilege had appointed Lord Frank custodian of Frome Abbey and the marquisate holdings until the title succession was settled. As far as Alex was concerned, Lord Frank was welcome to the task long term.
Alex would fulfill the requirements the Committee on Privilege demanded, travel to London, sign what needed to be signed, and wash his hands of all this.
Until then . . .
He glanced at the clock on the mantel and then compared the time with that of his pocket watch.
Och, even the marquisate’s clocks were delightfully punctual.
Servants had brought in his small trunk and traveling desk, setting the latter on a table, ready for use. Pulling up a chair, he opened the inlaid wood writing slope and retrieved a letter. It had arrived right as he was leaving Edinburgh, and he simply had not had a moment to respond.
Alex snapped the letter in his hand.
Dear Dr. Whitaker,
Forgive this intrusion on your time, but I have a matter of some sensitivity which I would like to address. It has come to my attention that you were aboardThe Minerva, the private vessel that sank in the South Pacific in ’16. I wish to consult with you about a medical matter which relates peripherally toThe Minervaand her wreckage. However, the issue must be attended to with some delicacy. I would require that any discourse between us be held secret under your Oath to Hippocrates as a medical physician. Moreover, I currently reside near Wetherby in Yorkshire and, though I occasionally travel for business, I am never in Edinburgh. Do you ever pass through this area?
Alex pursed his mouth.
His brain had passed the hours of his journey musing upon the letter’s clues and his own time aboardThe Minerva.
Alex had come on ship as a personal physician to the gentlemen financing the trip—Andrew Langston, now the Earl of Hadley, and Sir Rafe Gilbert. It was common for wealthy men such as Andrew to bring their own physician when traveling abroad.
On a whim, Alex had replied to the advertisement for a physician. He had just completed his studies at the University of Edinburgh, passing the brutal series of exams required to become a fully-fledged Doctor of Medicine. The exams were so taxing that less than one out of five students passed them. But Alex had been granted a mark of high distinction.
And then Ian had died.
As ever, Alex mentally shied away from thoughts of Ian, the gaping emptiness left by his supportive, kind older brother. He recognized that Ian’s death would always loom as a seminal event, the sort of chronic wound he had to be excessively careful not to jostle.
A point forever dividingbeforeandafter.
In the months after Ian’s passing, their father had gone nearly mad with grief. Alex, mourning and desperate to escape his father’s angry recriminations, responded to Andrew’s advertisement for a physician. He had been thrilled to be hired on.
Their trip had been relatively uneventful until they reached the islands of the New Hebrides, northwest of Australia. There, Captain Cuthie had betrayed them, destroying a native village and nearly killing Andrew and Rafe in the process. Only Alex’s expert medical skills had saved their lives.
In the chaos, Cuthie had sailed out of the harbor with Jamie still aboard ship, marooning the Brotherhood on the island. Kieran had been inconsolable.
A Portuguese whaler had sailed into the island’s harbor a month later, telling tales of floating through the wreckage ofThe Minerva. They surmised the ship had broken apart on a shallow reef. All hands aboard were assumed lost, Jamie included.
