"Something isn't right," he said instead. "Nothing you've said accounts for the animosity. Emery put the fear of God into Sylvia. She seems to believe Catherine—Miss Wheatly—was Emery's mistress."
"Perhaps she was."
"No!"
Glenaire waited with exquisite patience.
"I would bet Chadbourn Park on it. If Emery took Catherine, it wasn't voluntarily. It might account for his determination to keep Charles and Sylvia away, though I just can't see it. What of Songbird Cottage?"
Glenaire leaned forward and put both elbows on the table, cupping his glass. "Songbird Cottage and its acres belong outright to Lord Arthur, left to him by his mother from her settlements. Neither the seventh nor eighth duke had any claim to it."
Will nodded. "Catherine said as much. She said his father resented it."
"Some men would dislike loss of control."
"Isn't that the point of settlements, protecting something for the woman and her children?"
"True, but some begrudge it. Perhaps, the old duke expected it to come directly to him upon marriage. Perhaps Emery felt the same. Is it a nice piece of land?"
"Not large, but tidy and productive. The best."
"There you have it."
"Maybe. There has to be more, and I'm going to find it, for those boys' sake if nothing else. They are a duke's grandsons. The estate owes them better. A gentleman's education, at least."
Long minutes passed. Glenaire watched Will. Will stared at his port until he finally sat back and let a grim smile show. "I think it's time Lord Arthur visits his childhood home."
"From what you have said, he won't come."
"Catherine will persuade him, if only for her brothers' wellbeing. I have her support for that, at least. She hasn't said it, but I know it's there. She'll persuade him."
He counted on it.
Chapter Seven
Brilliant!" Randy shouted.
He ran up the hill to greet his new friend. Charles walked down the lane herding three sheep, his uncle close behind. The boys had managed to contrive reasons to visit every other day, and now, the young duke had been dragooned into the animal nativity.
"I herded them myself," Charles crowed. "I told Uncle Will we needed sheep, and he said they were mine to give, but I wasn't to ask Mr. Archer to bring them. I had to figure out how to get them here."
"Dead perfect, Charles!" Freddy exclaimed. "These will fill out the nativity nicely. How did you learn to herd?"
Catherine looked at the earl's amused brown eyes. "Your Grace" seemed to have fled sometime in the last week.
"I found a book in the library, A Guide for Young Shepherds. It described how to herd them, and a whole lot more besides. Book was exactly right: it's easy. Will these do, then?"
Randy hugged one sheep around the neck and scratched the ears of another. "Are they ours to keep?"
"Certainly," Charles said regally. "I'm giving them to you."
"Can we, Cath? We don't have to give them back after Christmas, do we?"
She looked at Chadbourn for enlightenment, but his amused expression made it clear she was on her own.
"Do you think we have enough feed for winter?" she asked even though she knew the answer perfectly well.
Randy gave it some thought. "Yes, we do. We stocked more than we needed, in case. I guess it was in case we got three sheep! We'll need that book, though."
