Errol had always been easy. Quiet. Even as a lad, when all the other children had been playing knights and bandits on the lawn, Errol would be off to the side with his vegetables or his birds or his flowers or the horses.
The only person he ever seemed to like as well as his natural things had been Ruby, who could sometimes coax him into play or otherwise join him in his naturalist idyll apart from the others.
This had always puzzled Elias, who found Ruby overwhelming and exhausting, even when she didn’t speak.
But, he reminded himself, he did not care. It did not matter. He was not curious about these people.
He had moved on.
Though it was still worth noting that Ruby had not changed a whit. Two seconds into seeing him again and she was already trying to unsettle him with barbed flirtations that felt like a lure on a hook into some unseen trap.
These bloody people.
Mr. Harcourt cleared his throat, withdrawing the first pages of the will. “‘In the Name of God, Amen. I, Willa Selwyn, of Starling’s Rest in the County of Sussex, Widow, being of sound and disposing mind and memory, do make and publish this my last Will and Testament, hereby revoking all former wills by me made. My soul I commend to Almighty God and my body to the earth. To ensure these wishes are executed in both letter and spirit, I appoint Harriet French of Brighton, daughter of my heart, to be the Executrix of this my last Will and Testament.’”
“Oh,” said Hattie, coloring and covering her mouth.
“Hattie?!” said Libba, frowning. “I was always the organizer. Willa knew that.”
“Hush,” said her brother, patting her knee.
Libba swatted his hand away. “It’s true! Hattie has no mind for logistics. She is brilliant but scattered. We all know it.”
“I shouldn’t decline your assistance,” Hattie said softly, blinking at the observation that had been made. “If this is your way of offering it.”
It was enough to make Libba pause and flush a little, giving a quick nod and a wince. Mr. Harcourt did not look at them or otherwise acknowledge the outburst. He did glance up, however, and grimace at Elias directly before continuing.
“‘To my nephew, Elias, Baron Selwyn, I bequeath the lands and fields of the Selwyn barony of in perpetuity: all natural soil and rights appurtenant thereto.’”
“Good show,” said Rhys, looking bored.
“‘To my ward, Harriet French,’” Mr. Harcourt continued, a little louder, “‘I bequeath the dwelling house known as Starling’s Rest, together with all furnishings, chattels, revenues, and appurtenances thereof.
“‘These two inheritances shall remain separate and distinct unless and until the said Elias Selwyn and Harriet French are lawfully joined in matrimony, whereupon the property shall be reconciled and united under one settlement. Should they decline, the manor and lands shall be broken and sold in parcels, the proceeds distributed at my discretion as described in the remainder of this will.’”
There was an extremely long pause, during which the only sound was the rustling of paper as Mr. Harcourt lowered the will and sighed very heavily, as if he’d already had this conversation many times in his mind.
Elias could do little more than laugh, a bark of astounded, incredulous bafflement. “What in God’s name?” he managed. “The house is part of the barony.”
Mr. Harcourt winced. “Shall I explain the legalities here first or continue with the will?”
“Continue,” Ruby said, examining her cuticles in pointed avoidance of her fellow wards’ wide-eyed expressions.
“Please explain,” Hattie said, louder and more strangled than she’d intended. “Please.”
Mr. Harcourt nodded. “The late Lord Selwyn was destitute at the time of his engagement to Miss Willa Starling, who came into the marriage with a sizable dowry and allowance from her father,” he began. “She initiated construction of the home during their engagement, which means the deeds and completion of the building were drawn up before she joined the baron in matrimony, under her father’s legal ownership. When her father died, rather than inherit the house directly, the dowager baroness moved its property deed into a trust so that it would not merge with the barony. This was, I’m afraid, very deliberate.”
Elias blinked several times. His chest felt like it might cave in.
“But then Lord Selwyn could just purchase it from me,” Hattie said reasonably. “There is no need for matrimony at all.”
Elias stared at her, unable to form words. He supposed he ought to be agreeing with her. Hedidagree with her, but there was something a little offensive at how quickly and easily she’d found a way out of the decree to be his.
“I’m afraid not,” said Mr. Harcourt with a sigh. “The rest of the will outlines a dissolution of the house and outbuildings, save for the Cagneys’ cottage, greenhouse, and livestock environs, should matrimony fail to occur. The baroness would rather have seen the house torn down than her will subverted.”
“Her will?” repeated Hattie. “Orher Will?”
“Oh, here she goes,” muttered Rhys, shaking his head and stalking away from her. “Willa’s willing will. Will she?”
