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Broden wasn’t a younger son.

But he was one of three, and his brothers were both dead—the younger to a fever when a wee laddie, and the other to a tragic accident when he’d fallen from a tree just shy of his eighth birthday.

Even as Mrs. McGregor said the words, her countenance fell, a somber shadow marring her earlier animation. “And now some villain is intent on doin’ ye harm. My only remainin’ son and kin.”

Broden covered her hand with his and gave her one of his winsome, comforting don’t-worry-I’ll-make-everything-right smiles. “Dinna repine on it. The previous earls had the misfortune of livin’ in England. I intend to live out my days in Scotland until I’m a feeble old codger, bowed over, toothless, and bald.”

“There’s a lovely image,” Liam quipped.

Kendra couldn’t summon the same jollity. In fact, the oddest despondency flooded her.

Broden playfully chucked his mother’s chubby chin. “But I think I shall purchase a larger house, so ye better start plannin’ the furnishin’ and how many servants ye wish to hire. I’ve often admired Glenawayshire, and the estate ’tis no’ only available for purchase, ’tis also but a scant five miles away.”

His mother’s calm pale-brown eyes lit with excitement. “Glenawayshire? My, that ’tis impressive. A right proper house for an earl.”

Again, Mrs. McGregor cast Kendra a surreptitious look, but she pretended absorption in her—ah—toast. Yes, the bread browned to perfection.

A wife generally saw to the furnishing of a house and hiring of the staff. Broden had no plans of wedding soon, then. Not even for an heir, now that he bore the burden of continuing the line?

Or perhaps, he didn’t plan to wed yet. Mayhap, Broden needed time to put his affairs in order and become accustomed to his new role. She couldn’t find fault with that logic if that were the case.

Kendra had only been to Glenawayshire once, three years ago, before the previous owners—Sassenachs—had decided the Highlands were too rusticated for their refined tastes.

More palatial than manor-like, the mansion boasted sixteen bedrooms. He’d need to find a countess and get busy if he intended to fill them all with wee McGregor bairns.

Or would the children be Montforths?

Liam focused his attention on his sausage, and after stabbing a piece with his fork, leveled Broden a considering look. “I ken ye dinna need my advice, but I dinna think ’tis wise for ye to travel alone.”

Kendra agreed wholeheartedly.

And so, apparently, did Mrs. McGregor, from the relieved expression washing over her face.

Broden gave a slow, reflective nod.

Kendra released the breath she’d held in anticipation of his answer and whether his typical obstinacy would rear its head.

“Aye. I wanted to discuss that with ye,” he said. “If it wouldna be too much of an imposition, I’d like ye, the Kennedy brothers, Roxdale, and McPherson to accompany me. I’d ask Catherwood, but he’s still honeymoonin’.” He angled his knife, the tip covered with preserves. “Mayhap even Wallace and Rutherford, if their wives dinna object.”

Most of the Scots he’d just named had foiled a plot to assassinate Emeline last autumn. The men trusted each other completely, much as brothers would.

Liam narrowed his eyes reflectively as he chewed. He swallowed, then took a sip of his coffee. “Aye. I think there’s wisdom in travelin’ in numbers, but no’ so many that ye draw undue attention. I’d say ye, me, and two more at the most.”

The whole while they spoke, her agitation high, Kendra attended to her breakfast. She spread preserves over a slice of toast and took a bite. The food had no flavor. No texture. She might’ve been eating foolscap.

She couldn’t stop thinking of how many of the former Earls of Montforth had died premature deaths. Now Broden was the new earl, and some fiend had already tried to kill him.

Coincidence?

Perhaps. Perhaps not.

Who was she trying to fool? Most likely not coincidence at all.

Broden brought his regard to her across the table, and their gazes tangled.

She wouldn’t plead for him not to go.

Not only wasn’t it her place, she understood he must leave. He’d never shirked responsibilities, and although he mightn’t want the duties and obligations that accompanied the earldom, he’d do what needed doing.