As for Fletch . . .
“He struggles to hold a grudge, Fletch does,” Tavish said.
“Aye. But perhaps he hasn’t been sufficiently motivated in the past. Time will tell, I ken.” Ross shrugged. “In the meantime, I’m unsure what you and I are to do. Fletch was to provide a substantial amount of our needed capital. We cannot move forward with our plans in Pennsylvania without an investor.”
Tavish nodded. He was twice aneejitfor not foreseeing this outcome with Fletch.
“Do ye have anyone in mind?” Tavish asked. “Would your father be interested?”
“Nae. If anything, my father would be happy to see the whole plan scuppered. He wants me home, managing my wee estate, and contemplating marriage.”
They rode in silence for a long moment.
“Would it . . .” Ross began. “Would it be so terrible if we backed out of our plans?”
Aye!Tavish wanted to snap. Some days, the only thing keeping him upright was the thought of the green hills of Pennsylvania and his fields of rye growing there. A tangible something that prevented his future from feeling so very bleak.
Ross took his silence as encouragement.
“Once ye be free of Lady Isla, ye could marry anew. A lass whose family supports your suit and provides ye with a dowry. Combined with your funds from the sale of your commission . . .” He drifted off.
Och, Tavish didn’t want a different wife. He liked the one he already had, thank ye very much. But as she currently had no interest in remaining married to him . . .
“A new lady’s dowry would have to be truly spectacular to support us in any meaningful way.”
“Aye, but if it included property. An estate, even . . . ye could have ongoing income.”
Tavish looked out over the countryside—the hills covered in purple heather, smoke rising from the occasional stone farmhouse—wondering if there would ever come a time when his life felt settled. Anytime Tavish wanted something—his inheritance, the woman he loved—it was stripped from him.
“Have ye considered politics?” Ross asked, seemingly from nowhere.
“Pardon?” Tavish turned to stare at his friend, the motion causing his eye to pulse in pain.
“Merely that ye have presence. Your father is an earl with a position in Lords. Ye could put for a seat in Commons. Between that and the right wife, ye could live quite comfortably.”
“Do I look like a politician type?”
“Nae. But I think that would be part of the appeal. Ye are a bit of a war hero. Ye could do some shooting exhibitions and use the momentum to boost your abilities to take on Westminster.”
“Have ye gonedoolally? Perhaps Fletch knocked your head last night, too, because ye be speaking utter nonsense.”
Ross merely shrugged again.
They rode in silence for a few more minutes.
“Why all this talk of new wives, estates, and politics? It appears to me ye want to back out of our endeavor,” Tavish said. “Ye ken I won’t hold ye to any part of it.”
“I admit that I see the wisdom in my father’s advice. And now that our funding has disappeared . . .” Ross drifted off. “However, I won’t leave yourself unsettled.”
“I’m not yours to tend to, Ross.”
“Aye, but I value ye as a friend and, as such, your happiness matters.”
“Well, I’d rather . . .”
Whatever Tavish intended to say died on his lips.
They had just rounded a corner and there, in the distance, a woman sat on a log beside the road. Dressed in a light blue pelisse and a straw bonnet, she was bent in half, palms covering her face, shoulders shaking with sobs.
