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Sebastian hadn’t told Cordelia of his connection to the local laird. His grandfather had insisted that not be acknowledged, wanting him to make his way on his own merits. That was beginning to prove particularly problematic. The time he had spent with her had pushed the bounds of propriety, yes, but his low status had clearly been her parents’ most pressing objection. That and her dedication to her art.

He’d been at the home farm only a few minutes when Archie arrived, enough out of breath to indicate he had rushed over. He held under his arm what looked like Cordelia’s box of art supplies.

“M’sister was given this by Mrs. Wakefield,” Archie said, “and told to destroy it. Glenna said poor Miss Wakefield looked crushed, ready to sob. We’re hoping you’ll keep this here until there’s a way to get it back to the poor lass without landing her in trouble.”

The Wakefields had ordered Cordelia’s paints and brushes and other supplies destroyed? They were taking away her art. Punishing her for painting. What further punishment were they inflicting because she’d spent time with a farmer?

“I’ll keep the box safe,” he told Archie. “And I’ll not tell the Wakefields your sister didn’t follow their orders.”

“Thank you.” He handed the box off. “I’d best rush back. Would nae do to be caught out neglecting my work with Mr. Wakefield in such a taking today.”

“By all means. Don’t cause trouble for yourself.”

Sebastian stored the box on a high shelf inside the house, tucked a bit behind other things. He didn’t for a moment think the Wakefields would ever step foot inside the home farm of a neighboring estate, but he wouldn’t risk it.

He could do little to convince them to value their daughter’s talent as they ought. But he could, perhaps, save her further remonstrances by making them aware that he and Cordelia were, in fact, on equal social footing. That, however, required his grandfather’s cooperation.

Shadow expressed great disdain as Sebastian walked past her pen and didn’t stop for a long visit. He knew he had become the entirety of the little creature’s flock, and he felt bad abandoning her, even for a brief time, but Cordelia was in such an unhappy situation that he couldn’t in good conscience not try to do something.

The staff at the castle were clearly uncertain when Sebastian insisted on seeing the laird. They, no doubt, were aware that their employer had insisted his grandson be treated exclusively as the home farmer would be. Sebastian, though, knew where the old man was likely to be found and made his way directly to the library.

The laird was, indeed, there. His expression turned instantly stormy upon seeing Sebastian enter. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come on a personal matter.”

Grandfather had begun shaking his head before Sebastian finished. “It is improper for you to disrupt my day with personal matters.”

“But that is precisely what I’ve come to talk to you about. As your grandson, I do have that right. I have decided that—”

“For the time being, laird and home farmer is our connection. You are perfectly aware of that.”

Sebastian refused to give in so quickly. Too much depended upon this. “We are family. We are each other’s only family.”

Grandfather rose from the chair he’d been occupying and crossed to the tall, diamond-paned window that overlooked the extensive grounds. “We are the stewards of Teviotbrae. For generations, we have borne responsibility for this land. Its well-being and the well-being and future of those who call it home must always be our first consideration. We would hardly be worthy of the faith placed in us if we set that aside.”

It was a lecture he had heard before. “Does it automatically follow that acknowledging me as your grandson would lead to misery in this area?”

“When you become laird, they must have full faith in you. They do not know you as they did your father. There’s nothing for it but to give them a chance to decide that you can be trusted.”

Sebastian might have kept pushing, might have pointed out that he had earned a great deal of their trust already. But his grandfather had turned his back to him, something he had done before when discussions of a more personal nature had been raised between them. It was his way of saying he was the laird before he was a grandfather.

“I intend to make the truth of my identity and my standing known to the Wakefields.”

Before the laird could speak, something he clearly intended to do, Sebastian pressed on.

“Miss Wakefield is being unfairly reprimanded for spending time with someone who is not her equal. To allow her to continue being wrongly castigated would be ungentlemanly.”

Ruffled and angry, the laird spun about. “It is not for a farmer to declare what is ungentlemanly.”

“It is when the nearest gentleman is allowing a lady to suffer unjustly.”

“Your father would never have spoken to me so insolently,” the laird growled through tight teeth.

“My father would never have allowed you to treat me so unfairly.”

An expression of distaste twisted the man’s features. “Tell the Wakefields if you wish. I will deny it. Of the two of us, you know perfectly well who they will believe.”

He would literally lie to prevent being connected with Sebastian? This was clearly not a matter of looking after the well-being of the people or teaching his grandson to appreciate the land. He truly did not want any connection between them acknowledged. “What could I possibly have done to earn such disdain? I have only ever tried to be what you wished. But nothing has ever proven sufficient.”