* * *
Two hours later, The Raven sat across from Dougal and waited for him to speak. He slowly drank his whiskey-infused tea and eyed the boy, who seemed beyond excited to receive such an invitation. The young Scotsman shifted in his seat, seeming uncomfortable in the delicate chairs that adorned the parlor.
After Graeme had left Niall’s, Niall had wasted no time in excusing himself as well. He had said that he wanted to get back to the caves to try another path, but The Raven suspected it had more to do with not wanting to discuss Graeme’s visit. Or the man’s speculations. All the more reason to otherwise engage Graeme so he would cease paying attention to Niall and his quest.
The Raven could be a patient man. He had to be in his line of work. But he wasn’t used to extending his patience to sniveling boys like the one before him. Still, The Raven wanted to see what Dougal might be able to offer him. Clearly the boy hungered for attention, and his brother simply wasn’t providing that. Might be Graeme’s new wife that was demanding his time. The Raven felt certain the boy would prove useful, but he’d require guidance, guidance with a delicate hand.
Dougal sipped his tea, the dirt beneath his fingernails a stark contrast to the elegant teacup.
Filthy mongrel. He really was a hulking lad, meant for plowing fields and throwing back drinks in the pub. However, he clearly yearned for the finer things in life. And that yearning would be his downfall. The Raven pushed the tray of cakes toward the boy, then crossed his legs. “You do not care for your brother’s new wife,” The Raven finally said, taking a careful guess.
Dougal had already grabbed a sugared cake and poked a portion into his mouth. He shrugged. “She’s all right, I suppose,” he said, once he’d swallowed most of his bite. “Though I haven’t seen much of my brother.”
The Raven nodded knowingly. “That’s what happens. Life will never again be the same for you and your brother. She will now be his top priority.” He sighed wistfully. “I’m surprised they’re still here. I suspect since she’s English she’ll want to get back to England soon rather than stay here.”
Dougal hadn’t responded, but his lips had compressed, and he didn’t take another bite of cake. He was listening to every one of The Raven’s words. And believing them. He nodded some, then set the remainder of his cake back on the plate. His shoulders sank.
“More than likely you won’t see Graeme as often,” The Raven continued. “Perhaps they’ll invite you to their house in London.” He tossed out that last bit to see what sort of relationship the brothers had. He’d never particularly gotten along with his own brother. The bastard had never respected all that he’d been given, but had never been willing to step aside and allow The Raven to take his place.
“Oh no,” Dougal said, shaking his head. “Graeme has never invited me to London.”
The Raven tsked in sympathy. “Never?” He feigned shock. “But is it not your family estate as well?”
“Never,” Dougal spat out.
The Raven nodded. “As I expected. He simply doesn’t appreciate you. Or what he has.” He leaned forward, allowing his cigar to rest in the ashtray. This would be too easy. He knew all too well from his own life what it felt like to be the brother that should have been born first. The one who deserved to be heir but instead was resigned to a life of nothing better than a peasant.
“You and your mother live in a house of modest means here, but compared to the wealth and opulence of Graeme’s estates in England …” He let his words drift off. Again his shook his head. “Pity.”
“What?” Dougal scooted his chair closer. “What’s a pity?”
“That you could not change places with him. You would make a much better duke. Much more honorable and worthy of the title, a man who would fully recognize what he had. You would care about the duties and responsibilities and the respect that goes along with such bloodlines.”
Dougal’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve never even seen our English estates,” he said.
“Never?” The Raven asked with feigned surprise.
Dougal shook his head. “No, Graeme thought it best if I stayed here in Scotland. Said England was full of judgmental blue bloods who would look down upon me because of my Scottish roots.”
“Lies, all of them. You would be readily accepted. You could dress in the finest of fashions.” He held his arm out. “Feel the fabric on my sleeve.” Dougal did as he was instructed. “Do you feel the difference, feel the luxuriousness of the silk? These are the sorts of clothes you would purchase for yourself. And warm, heavy coats so that you would never again be cold.”
The Raven watched the boy’s expression soften. The anger disappeared, and in the place of the hard lines, wistfulness filled his eyes. “Then you’d have your own fleet of carriages and drivers willing to take you anywhere you so chose,” The Raven continued. “Not to mention a bevy of servants waiting for any command you could give them.”
Dougal’s eyes glazed with dreaminess. “What of London itself? Is there much to do there?”
“More than any one person can do. There are lavish parties every night with gourmet foods and the finest of liquors. You would never have your fill,” The Raven said. “And you could have your choice of any number of beautiful women.”
Dougal’s shoulders slumped, and he looked down at his hands. He picked at the dirt clumped beneath his fingernails, then he folded them in his lap, out of sight.
“It could be yours, but instead, all of it belongs to your brother,” The Raven said.
“And he doesn’t appreciate it. Doesn’t even want it,” Dougal said, the anger seeping back into his voice.
“Quite true.” The Raven lit another cigar. “But your brother would have to die in order for you to inherit it, and then only if he doesn’t get his new wife pregnant with his heir.” He held out a cigar for Dougal, which the boy greedily accepted.
Dougal inhaled on his cigar, coughing a few times but managing to get things under control. He was quiet for several moments, then he nodded slowly. “You know, he used to let me help him with his research, but not anymore.” He shook his head. “Not since she came along.”
Dougal was quiet for several moments before he asked, “Do you truly believe, now that he’s married, Graeme won’t return to Scotland?”
