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Shyly, tentatively, Mayson brushed a tendril of hair away from her face. “I am mindful of my duty, Mrs. Swinton, and of the need to give you time for your grief to run its course. But only one thing could possibly keep me from asking for your hand.”

“What is that?” Evelyn felt her stomach clench. Somehow this conversation had gotten completely out of hand.

“If you told me with all honesty and sincerity that you could never love me or that there was some other person living who had claimed your heart. I will always respect your wishes, but no power on earth will keep me from loving you.”

It took all of Evelyn’s resolve not to melt and say “yes” right then. But she understood how the world worked, and she would rather not have anything happen that they would both regret. Then, almost without her conscious volition she heard herself say, “Claim your inheritance. If you still feel the same way after you have come into your own, I am unlikely to say you nay.”

Mayson recaptured her hand, and kissed the tips of her fingers. “Everything I am, everything I have, and everything I ever will have, I will gladly lay at your feet, my lady Evelyn.”

“I’m not a lady,” she protested softly.

“You are my lady,” he said. “And you always will be.”

The sun brought sparkles to the water, sparkles almost as bright as the little stars that danced in her heart. Even though she knew better, Evelyn could not bring herself to say no.

Chapter 17

Leroy Rutley closed the door behind his visitor. “You came about the advertisement,” he stated.

Yes,” his visitor replied. “My principle is interested in the bounty you are offering. What is this person to you that you offer such a high reward?”

Mr. Rutley replied, “He is my nephew. He has been missing for some time and as it stands now the estate require a great deal of repair and maintenance, all of which must be done out of the proceeds from rent and sales of stock and crops. I cannot touch the principle or even the interest, yet the servants, the farmhands, and all the other workers must be paid.”

“I quite understand,” said his visitor. “My principle has a similar problem and it is for that reason that he is interested in the bounty.”

“Have you some reason,” asked Mr. Rutley, “to believe that you know the location of my nephew?”

“Indeed, I do. I have heard stories and perhaps a name. What kind of proof do you need of his location or his demise?”

“I suppose his body would do, dead or alive. Alive perhaps would be better? Or dead. It is somewhat a matter of indifference to me.”

“That is a most amusing attitude,” said the visitor. “I gather that you were not in line for the inheritance.”

“Oh dear me, no. No, I was the second son, always the second son. It was dinned into my awareness from the beginning that my older brother was the head of the house and that his son should inherit after him. No one was planning on an illness, a miserable wasting illness.”

The visitor barked a short laugh. “I don’t suppose you had any influence on this illness.”

“No,” Mr. Rutley said. “Believe it or not, I was actually rather fond of my brother. It was his spoiled brat of a son that I could not stand. Always talking back, always knowing everything, always good at everything, even though he was often sickly, and so polite. He was so good it was beyond bearing.”

“What of your own family?” his visitor asked.

“My family? My brother married my only love.”

“It would seem to me, then,” said the visitor, “That you would have a vested interest in the caring for her child.”

“One would think that, wouldn't you? But the mewling little beast was the cause of her death.”

“I see,” said the visitor. “That is, indeed, quite interesting. I can see how you might feel some animosity toward the child, but surely you cannot really blame him for his mother's death?”

“I suppose it’s unreasonable, but love is not reasonable, nor desire for revenge.”

“Were you responsible for your brother's death?”

“No, no. No such thing. Nor will I be responsible for my nephew’s death.”

The visitor looked down at his shoes, then looked out the window. “A curious attitude, My Lord.”

“Oh, I am no Lord,” said Mr. Rutley. “As you might guess, that is part of the issue.”