Christina gasped. Aedan, moving past, stopped beside her to whirl on Edgar. “No need for advocates. The conditions will be met,” he growled.
“Consider the situation. The renovations are not yet done, including the mural Sir Hugh wanted. And with ancient walls now discovered on the property, that may very well void your claim to the house, according to the stipulations of the will.” Edgar smiled.
“You said the stones had little significance,” Chistina pointed out, sensing the hostility building between the two men.
“Regardless, it is a historic site,” Edgar said. “But we at the museum are not so heartless as to take away your ancestral home. The museum board discussed some conditions before I came out here. I am authorized to make an offer to you.”
“What offer is that?” Aedan asked flatly.
“Dundrennan’s historical collection belongs in a museum, not kept from the public.”
“I will not sell my father’s collection.”
“The cost of renovations here must be enormous. Your father’s fortune dwindled, as I understand it. One wonders how you pay your creditors.”
“None of your concern.”
“Your fund will not last long if the remodeling continues. But we will not render you penniless or homeless. The board members ask that you donate your father’s historical memorabilia to the museum. We cannot offer a fee, but we can safely house and maintain the objects. In return, we will relinquish our claim on the house itself. It is a fair offer.”
Aedan frowned. “Father wanted those objects to be kept here.”
Christina looked up at him. “House the collection in the museum and save your house? Would you consider it?” she asked softly, wanting peace.
Aedan studied her, black brows lowered over cool blue eyes. “No,” he said, and looked at Edgar. “No.”
“It is a good compromise,” Edgar said. “The house would remain yours. In the final meeting, I might cast my vote for that. It benefits you and your family line.”
Aedan gave him a stony glare. “And what would be your price for that vote?”
“Stephen Blackburn’s painting.”
Christina gasped. “What?”
“I offered to purchase it years ago, but Sir Hugh would not sell it. Give it to me in return for my influence, and you will get the house and lands. A good bargain.”
Silence filled the room. Aedan stared at Edgar. Christina stepped closer to his side. “That painting is not mine to give or to sell,” he said. “It belongs to Mrs. Blackburn. And I doubt she would give it away.”
Astonished, she stared at Aedan, then looked at Edgar. “Aye. It is mine now. Why would you want it?”
“Yours! Interesting. Well, think about it.” Edgar went to the door, which John yanked open, clearly wanting him to leave. “My dear,” he said, turning. “That painting of you should belong only to your husband. Since I plan to fill that role, I plan to own the painting.”
“None of that will happen,” she said.
“No?” He smiled. “Sir Aedan, if you want to keep the house, then release that painting to me. It is as if Mrs. Blackburn has fallen under a spell at Dundrennan. No common sense whatsoever. My dear, I am disappointed. You are a worthy scholar, but the rebellious side of your character has returned. I thought you learned a lesson when Stephen died.”
Before she could reply, Aedan crossed the room toward him, but Edgar ducked through the doorway. John lunged forward too, and Christina rushed after them. She snatched her brother’ssleeve and grabbed Aedan’s arm. John subsided back into the room, but Aedan jerked away from her. She hurried after him.
“Stop!” She caught his wrist. “Aedan, please, he is not worth it!”
He stopped, looking down at her with eyes gone dark with anger. Ahead, Edgar breezed down the hallway and disappeared around a corner.
“At least you see he’s not worth it,” Aedan said.
“I always have.” She pressed his arm. “Thank you for the painting. I did not know.”
“I thought of it then, but it belongs to you by right. I will sign it over to you as a gift so Edgar cannot dispute it.”
“Thank you. You should know,” she went on, “I would never marry Edgar.”
