“Perfect. And in the meantime, we’ll apply one of Seutin’s bandages which will, at the very least, allow you to roll over in bed.”
“That would be appreciated.”
“I can imagine.” Michael snorted. “We’ll have you up and about and taking on the duties of the marquisate in no time—”
“Pardon?” Alex’s forehead furrowed. “Taking on the duties of the marquisate?”
“Well . . . yes. That is why you’re here, is it not? You are the new heir?”
“Ehr, I am, but the matter is somewhat muddled.”
“Are you referring to Ferndown’s meddling? I doubt anything will come of it. If you are the legitimate heir, then you will inherit the title.” Michael laughed, as if any other outcome were ridiculous. “The laws of primogeniture are decidedly inflexible. Even for dukes.”
“Perhaps. But I actually agree with Ferndown.”
“Pardon?” Michael sat back in his chair.
Alex recounted his reasons for wishing to sign the Writ of Attainder.
He expected Michael to have a good laugh with him over the absurdity of it all and to agree that assuming the mantle of marquess was ridiculous for a physician.
Instead, the more Alex talked, the sterner Michael’s expression became.
“So . . . you don’t want the marquisate?” he finally asked, voice scandalized. “You will allow it to remain in the hands of Lord Frank?”
“Aye, though Lord Frank will only run the estate until Master Frederick comes of age. As I said, I dinnae want tae be a marquess. Master Frederick can have the title. I’ve chosen my career. I can do more real good in Edinburgh healing people than I can sitting in Lords blethering over the price of corn shares and squiring some aristocratic wife to balls in London. Can ye even imagine it?”
Michael lurched to his feet and began to pace, his brows drawn into a serious line. The man shook his head, pausing to stare down at Alex.
“I can’t help but feel that is a bit . . .” Michael seemed to struggle to find the proper words. “. . . short-sighted. Are you confident the estate is being managed properly at present?”
“I assume Lord Frank knows what he’s about, as he was raised to it. But I havenae yet assessed accounts or surveyed the lands myself. The marquisate holdings are vast.”
“Yes, it’s just . . .” Michael darted a glance at the door, as if to ensure that no one was eavesdropping. He then leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I have seen signs that everything may not be well.”
A wee trickle of foreboding skittered down Alex’s spine. “Signs?”
“Nothing glaringly obvious, just small indications of hardship. Tenants in worn clothing. Malnourished children. Disease racing through households, and people filling up the local workhouses.”
Alex frowned. “That is disquieting. But it doesnae follow that such things are the result of land mismanagement. Life has been precarious these past five years. The end of the conflict with Napoleon and the flood of soldiers returning—combined with the Year without a Summer in ’16—has created a dearth of jobs. Scotland has seen its share of suffering, as well.”
“Agreed.” Michael sat back, folding his arms. “And perhaps it is only my perception that such changes came on the heels of the late Lord Lockheade’s death last spring. But after his lordship’s death, the old steward retired. I’m not confident that the new steward, Mr. Warden, is as competent as his predecessor.”
They sat in silence for a moment, Alex’s thoughts a whirlwind. His frown deepened.
Finally, Michael sighed. “Look, Alex, we both wish to heal people. To give up being a physician would be difficult. But I would implore you to truly assess and examine the situation here before you walk away. You are a good man, Alex Whitaker. You save scores of lives every year as a doctor. But as Marquess of Lockheade, you could potentially savethousandsof lives. You could heal not just people, but entire communities. You could not only alleviate suffering in the here and now, but generations into the future.”
Alex shifted his gaze to look out the window, allowing Michael’s words to roll over him.
Wasn’t this precisely what he had feared? That once friends and family members knew the decision that faced him, they would attempt to sway his mind. They would argue and persuade.
Michael did not misunderstand Alex’s silence.
His friend stood to leave. “I know there are many hurdles, Alex. I understand your reluctance, and it’s to your credit that you are not seduced by the wealth and power of becoming a lord. But before you walk away from these lands and people, be the physician you are. Assess the overall health of the marquisate. Examine the living conditions and difficulties facing the tenants. Ask yourself: What good could I do here?”
Silence hung inthe bedchamber long after Michael had departed.
Alex’s leg ached, a dull throb that kept time with his pulse.
