Cathy Maxwell - [Chattan Curse 03] by The Devils Heart Page B

have grand plans—”
    “Actually, some are Brodie’s plans. The improvements I’m suggesting are the ones he’d started or left notes indicating what he wanted done.”
    “Brodie had high hopes for us all,” Dara said. “He always saw our best and ignored our flaws. I fear that is one of the reasons we are in such debt. He truly believed that he could breed horses and could save us.” There was a bit of silence. She sighed, the sound heavy, lost.
    “Don’t worry about the debts, Dara. I shall see to those. What is important is that you make wise choices for your life.”
    “I know.” She picked up the salve from the bed. “And you should think of the choices you have to make as well, Heath. I know you feel a responsibility to all the people here. But if you decide to sell to Owen Campbell, I’ll support you. I’d like to think as Brodie’s wife, my approval might mean something.”
    “Thank you, Dara. It does to me.”
    “So, have you given his offer any thought?”
    Heath walked over to his wardrobe and pulled out his brown woolen jacket. This time he admitted the truth. “It’s all I can think of.”
    “Then you will sell?”
    He looked to his sister-in-law. Brodie’s death had been hard on her. “I don’t know yet, Dara. This is my birthright.”
    “But you have not been here in years.”
    “Aye, and it is harder to keep this lot in line than seven frigates of sailors . . . but it is the legacy of my ancestors.”
    “And it is not my decision,” she said as if to remind herself. “I know you will do what is best for yourself and your sisters. As for the rest, I’m certain Owen Campbell will treat them well.”
    “Or turn them out.”
    “Do you truly believe he would?” She sounded surprised.
    Heath shrugged. He honestly didn’t know what Campbell would do, and there were days even he wanted to walk away from all of this. “I can’t leave. Not yet. Not until I know who murdered my brother. I owe him that much.”
    “Brodie wasn’t the sort who would have held you accountable.”
    “He wasn’t,” Heath agreed. He opened a drawer and pulled out a neck cloth. He quickly tied it around his neck as he admitted, “It’s myself who needs answers.”
    She’d walked up to him, waved his hands away and retied the knot he had sloppily managed. Lifting her eyes to meet his, she said, “You’ll know soon enough what it is you should be doing.” She stepped back. “Dinner will be within the hour. I’ll see you then.”
    “I’m going downstairs as it is,” he answered, and opened his door for her. He followed her out into the hall and down the stairs. He had an hour to waste. It was an incredible luxury. He should do paperwork, but then he rejected the idea. Lady Margaret’s arrival had disrupted the normal order of things at Marybone. She’d reminded him of the taste of the world he’d had and might not have again.
    Heath decided to walk to the stables and see how the pregnant mare was faring. The animal had been anxious all day. It was too soon for her to foal but Heath had learned a long time ago that God and nature had a way of playing tricks.
    Stretching out his bandaged arm, knowing that moving it would save the muscles from stiffening, he walked toward the back hall when he heard his sister Laren shout, “ Help me .” A crash punctuated her words.
    The call came from the library that also served as his study. Heath ran in that direction, reaching the library door a step before Dara and Anice.
    He was shocked at the sight of Laren and Lady Margaret struggling against each other. Her Ladyship held a book in her arms and Laren fought gallantly to take it from her. Lady Margaret battled just as earnestly to keep it, shoving his sister back against his desk with her shoulder in a move Heath had used himself just a few days ago in his brawl at the Goldeneye.
    Laren lost her hold and Lady Margaret turned to dash out the door with her prize.
    Instead, she ran right into