Page 35 of The Lyon Deception

“Sinclair?” the old man rasped. “Lad, is it you?”

“Yes, Grandfather.”

“Ah, you look grand,” he wheezed. “A fine gentleman.”

Lord Armytage looked so old, Cat felt conflicted. Was this the man she had been so furious with, their hated enemy? Instead she felt pity and sorrow for Sinclair, who had moved forward and, leaning close, reached out a hand to clasp that of his grandfather.

“I am dying,” the old man said. “I am glad you are here, Sinclair. I wanted to see you before the end.”

He stopped, gasping, as if he had run out of breath. Cat, finding some water by the bed, poured a glass. Sinclair helped his grandfather to rise slightly, so that he could drink. He did so, greedily, but the man’s watchful eyes went to her, taking her in. When he had finished with the water, he fell back with a sigh.

“Who is this?” he asked weakly. “Who have you brought me, Sinclair?”

“This is the duke’s daughter you wanted me to marry.” Sinclair shot a sideways glance at Cat. “Her name is Lady Catriona MacKenzie.”

Lord Armytage’s brow furrowed in a frown, as if he were trying to place the name, before giving up. “Good lad.”

“I am glad you are pleased,” Sinclair said quietly.

Lord Armytage didn’t seem to hear him. “Everything is yours,” he went on quickly, as if needing to get the words out while he still could. “I have arranged my affairs. Sell this place if you wish. Get what you can for it. I have squeezed every drop from it already to pay for your way in society. I want you to return to London and live as the gentleman I always wanted you to be. The gentleman I had hoped to be myself. Live my life for me, lad.”

Sinclair looked shocked, and Cat almost expected him to berate the old man for behaving so ridiculously. But Sinclair was kinder than that. “Can I do anything for you, sir?” he said gently, and Cat admired his generosity and his ability to forgive this man who had been so unforgiving to him. “Is there someone I can call? Some medicine you require that will help you?”

But he shook his head. “The doctor has been and washed his hands of me,” he said scathingly. “They all have. Except you, lad. Even my own daughter ran away from me.”

“But she wrote to you,” Sinclair reminded him. “At the end.”

Lord Armytage pondered this. “I wish,” he began, and then shook his head as if such regrets were useless and not to be considered. “I would sleep now,” he said suddenly. “Now that I know you have come. You and your duke’s daughter.”

He was still smiling as he closed his eyes. It was only when Sinclair placed his hand carefully against the old man’s lips and shook his head that Cat realized he was dead.

She put her arms about Sinclair and he turned into her, holding her tight. His voice was shaking. “I hated him,” he said. “But he was my kin. My only kin. I thought . . . I hoped . . .” He could not seem to say more, but Cat understood.

“I will be your kin from now on,” she said. “I promise you are not alone, Sinclair.”

They left the room and went back down the stairs, where the others were waiting. There were murmurs of sympathy, and Sinclair thanked them, but he seemed too shaken to say much. Cat held his hand and sat beside him when the servant served them hot oat cakes and whisky. The house was very quiet, and even with the fire burning, it was chilly. She knew this was not a place she wanted to live and hoped Sinclair would not ask her to.

Sinclair was looking about him and seemed to read her thoughts. “I will never live here. It was never my home.”

“’Tis is a bleak place,” Maxwell agreed with a grimace. “Bonnyrigg is better.” He seemed better disposed to Sinclair than he had been when they first met, and Cat was relieved for it.

Sinclair had met his eyes and managed to smile. “Much better,” he agreed. “But I do feel sad. We were not close, and I regret that. I would have liked a grandfather I could love, and who would love me.” He swallowed.

Cat squeezed his hand again. “I did not know him, but hearing him speak . . . Sinclair, I think he was looking in the wrong places for happiness. He thought it lay in London and being a gentleman. He was looking outside of his life instead of inside, where his family were.”

He smiled at her. “He was. You are right. He alienated his daughter and made my life a misery. Never fear, Cat, I am not going to strut about London pretending to be anything other than what I am. A carpenter’s son.”

After a time, Uncle James cleared his throat. “I think you can sign the marriage contract now,” he said. “If you still want to. Your inheritance is yours to dispose of as you wish.”

Sinclair looked pleasantly surprised. “So it is! Your Grace,” turning to Maxwell, “will you give me your permission to wed your daughter?”

Maxwell gave him a thoughtful look. “Cat? Is that what you want?”

She smiled. “Yes, Father. Yes please.”

He smiled back. “Then I give you permission to wed my daughter, Sinclair.”

With a cry of joy, she went into Sinclair’s arms.