Page 10 of A Stranger’s Gamble

“He is interested in a title, you mean.” Adam gulped half his glass of wine.

“Do not judge the man before meeting him,” Nick said. “He loves his daughter. He will not marry her to just anyone.”

Adam lifted a brow. “He has standards, eh?”

“In fact, he does.” A small smile touched Nicholas’s mouth. “When you have a daughter, you will understand.”

“Perhaps, but—”

“But nothing, Adam. Meet the woman. She is quite lovely.” Nick paused, then sighed. “You will have a difficult time raising your Friesians without capital. Do you really want to see Brewhold crumble?”

Adam finished his wine, then refilled his glass. “Perhaps it is better that way. I can return to university and learn a useful profession. I always thought I would make a fine solicitor.”

Nicholas snorted. “No, you wouldn’t. You would hate the long hours poring over paperwork, the business deals, and the noblemen who would like nothing better than to have a marquess as their solicitor—and don’t think they would ever let you forget that they are now above you. Nae, you need to be outdoors with your horses. Imagine having enough money to set Brewhold straight, horses and all.”

“You make it sound so easy.” Adam lifted the wine glass to his lips, but the wine suddenly smelled sour, and he set the glass back on the table.

“She will attend Lady Seafield’s ball. Surely, you can at least meet her.”

Adam sighed. “I will meet her. But be warned, whatever mad scheme you have planned is doomed to fail. What is her name?” Adam suddenly wondered if lunch were worth the trouble of this discussion.

“Sophia Shaw.” Nick grinned. “You will never guess who her relatives are.”

Adam thought for a moment. “Not the Shaws on Lacy Street?”

“One and the same.” Nicholas gave a single nod. “Number ninety-one.”

“Not Madeline Forsyth?” The spry, fifty-five-year-old woman was the life of Edinburgh’s oyster cellars.

“I seem to recall you telling me that if she were twenty years younger, you would have pursued her.” Nicholas said. “Maddie is Miss Shaw’s aunt.”

Adam grunted. “I agree to attend Lady Seafield’s ball and dance with the lass her two dances. But do not get your hopes up.”

Nick’s expression sobered. “Give the matter serious thought, Adam. Not every woman is like Lena.”

After lunch, Nicholas left with a promise to return the night of the ball, and Adam headed for the stables that housed his last possession. He’d sunk his last penny into stabling the superbly high-spirited Frisian stallion of unequaled speed and beauty. The animal represented his future. He had a winner and, with it, he would take not only the races at Musselburgh, but he would breed other fine racehorses, as well.

He’d chosen the best stables in Edinburgh, a small establishment near the end of Cowgate. He arrived to find the stable master exercising his stallion in the yard.

“He’s a beauty, my lord.” Jack halted, bridle in hand, and dipped his head in greeting. “I have yet to see a finer animal.”

“He is unmatched.” Adam ran a hand along the horse’s muscled neck. “I would like to ride him. Would you fetch me a saddle, please?”

Jack beamed. “Aye, sir.” He hurried away.

Adam grabbed a brush hanging from the fence then began brushing the horse’s back. A shadow fell across the ground beside Adam. He looked up. A tall, fair-haired man took the last two steps to where Adam stood and stopped. Adam returned his attention to his horse and openly ignored the man.

“Fine horse,” Kenrich Balfour said.

“What do you want, Balfour?”

“I thought perhaps we could discuss business.”

“I have no intention of selling Merlyn.” Adam continued to brush the animal’s back.

“That wasn’t quite what I had in mind, but we both know you need the money to finish paying your father’s debts.”

“You are mistaken,” Adam said. “I have paid all debts.”