Yr. servant,
C. Throckmorton
“Have the town coach brought around in about forty-five minutes.” Giff dug into his meal.
Gunn cleared his throat. “If yer going to take the coach, you’d best be right back. His grace has need of it later this morning. It’s stoating out there. If ye want to wait, the weather will clear by the afternoon.”
It might be prudent to buy his own coach now that he had the funds to do it. “Thank you for telling me, but I must go immediately.”
“That’s what I’m here for, me lord.” His valet disappeared into the dressing room.
Giff arrived in the hall just as the coach was being brought around. His father’s butler handed him an umbrella and opened the door. It was coming down hard. He sprinted to the carriage where a footman wearing an oiled coat and hat waited to open the door. Fortunately, the coach had a cover over the coachman’s seat. Even the horses had oil skin covers.
The traffic was heavy as they made their way into the City. He’d have to sign the documents and go directly back home. The footman had taken the umbrella and held it out as he opened the door. “We’ll wait here, my lord.”
“Thank you, Peters, isn’t it?”
“Yes, my lord.” Giff nodded and went inside.
The solicitor had anticipated his arrival. He bowed. “The documents are waiting, my lord.”
“How long will this take?” Giff strode into the same room as before. “I must return soon.”
“Signing them will not take long at all.” Throckmorton handed Giff a pen. “However, the estate books for the past year have been sent as well along with the steward, Mr. William Kennedy.” So much for not mentioning his inheritance to his father. The steward would expect to stay at the house. “He was instructed to stay at a hotel while he is here.”
Giff let out a breath. “Please tell him to attend me in about two hours.”
“As you wish, my lord.” The solicitor signaled to one of the clerks, and the man donned a coat and departed. “I do not wish to appear forward, but do you have much experience with estate books?”
He leaned back in the chair. Giff didn’t want to appear ignorant, but he was, and it wouldn’t help him to pretend otherwise. “I do not.”
“We have a young gentleman whose father sent him to us for legal training in preparation for him to take over his family’s estate. His father is a client of ours, but lives in a remote area, and it is not always possible to quickly seek legal advice.” Throckmorton studied Giff as if to assess his interest. “The gentleman, Mr. Quinney, does have significant experience running his father’s estate. If you would like, he can attend your meeting with Mr. Kennedy.” Throckmorton paused for a moment. “It is not that we do not trust Mr. Kennedy, but we are acting on behalf of the solicitor in Inverness who represented your late uncle’s estate, and we do not know him.”
The one thing Giff did not want was to appear ignorant in front of the steward. Having someone there who knew what he was doing might be helpful. At any rate, it couldn’t hurt. “Yes please. I would appreciate Mr. Quinney’s advice.”
The solicitor seemed relieved. “Very good, my lord. I will ask him to arrive before Mr. Kennedy.”
“About an hour earlier I would think. He can tell me what to expect, and I can ask him any questions I might have.” Giff went back to the documents and finished signing them. “Here you are. I will expect to see Mr. Quinney in an hour.” As he was a gentleman, no one would think twice about him visiting Giff.
Throckmorton picked up the documents. “The funds you requested will be in the bank by tomorrow.”
Giff inclined his head. “Thank you.”
It was still raining cats and dogs. He almost dashed to the coach, but not only would his valet be annoyed to have to deal with a wet jacket and boots, but his father would wonder why the seat was wet. Peters ran over to Giff and held the umbrella while he climbed into the coach. They arrived at Cleveland House none too soon. He’d just made the first landing of the staircase when he heard his father stride into the hall. He’d need to decide how long he wanted to keep his father unaware of his inheritance. But right now, he was having fun acting on his own. There was no doubt at all that Papa would try to take over once he found out, and that was something Giff could not allow. Everything had to be settled before then. He informed Gunn that he was expecting a friend.
The next several hours passed quickly. Young Mr. Quinney turned out to be only a year or two younger than Giff. The family was from Northumberland. By the time Kennedy arrived Quinney had given Giff an overview of how farming and animal husbandry worked. Kennedy arrived with his son, and Giff learned that the family had served as stewards for the Dewars for several generations. As they poured over the books, Giff was thankful for Quinney’s earlier lesson.
Yet another book was set before him, and he began to read. “My uncle has a still?”
“No’ just a still.” William Kennedy shook his head slowly. “It’s a legal venture. We make”—the man fixed Giff with a look—“ye make some of the finest whisky in the land. How much time do ye plan to spend at Dewar Hall?”
More than Giff originally thought he would. “As much time as I need to. I will also be responsible for an estate a few hours north of London that I’ll receive when I wed. I hope to do that this Season.”
“Yer uncle hoped ye’d be convinced to come up and marry some nice Scots girl, but I suppose yer da would have somewhat to say about that?”
Giff did not even want to imagine his father’s response to him finding a local Inverness girl to wed. “That would be one way of putting it.”
“That’s what I told Angus.” Kennedy went on to explain how the whisky business worked.
Then the discussion turned to sheep, Cheviot sheep in particular, that were raised for their wool. “Ye understand that the Dewar family did no’ turn out their people. They moved some houses, but made it all work to benefit everyone,” he said.
Giff had learned of the enclosures and the number of people who’d been made homeless as a result. He’d always felt that was the reason his maternal grandfather insisted he spend time with the family. He would, eventually, be in the Lords and responsible for governing the country. One thing had made him curious. “I would have expected you to stay here. What made you decide to get a hotel room?”
The older man rubbed his chin. “It’s not so much a hotel as boarding house. It’s run by a Scotswoman. Angus didn’t want us bothering yer da.”
“I understand.” Someday that would change, Giff hoped.
They closed the books and put them in the bags. “What will be the protocol when I am in England?”
Kennedy slung the strap of a bag over his shoulder. “I’ll send any correspondence ye need to sign or approve by express. I’d appreciate it if ye got it back as soon as ye can.”
Giff nodded. “I’ll keep you advised of where I am.”
“Thank ye.”
His son grabbed the rest of the bags and grinned. “It was a pleasure to meet ye.”
“I’m glad to have met you too.”
