An Heir of Uncertainty by Alyssa Everett

first time he’d charged to the rescue of a pretty young lady, only to learn he was more interloper than knight in shining armor. He’d first met Harriet at Gunter’s after she’d unwittingly left her reticule at home, and he’d stepped in to pay for the ice she’d ordered. Harriet had looked so flustered, he’d supposed she couldn’t afford the cost and had hastened to make light of his expenditure. What grossly misplaced gallantry. It was probably the only time in the five years he’d known Harriet that he could boast of having possessed more money than she did.
    “...I’d prefer a southern exposure, though it may be that the eastern-facing window provides greater protection from the prevailing winds in this area.” Freddie waved his fork about as he spoke, lost in his favorite subject. “I can scarcely credit Dyson didn’t realize—”
    Win broke in. “I went to the dower house today, and discovered that someone had forced open the front door there. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
    Freddie squinted slightly. “The dower house? No. Why, should I?”
    “You didn’t see anyone or anything suspicious when you were out walking this morning?”
    Freddie gazed blankly across the table at him. “I don’t know. What do you consider suspicious?”
    What, indeed? Win doubted the intruder was skulking about with a kerchief over his face like a highwayman, or wandering the grounds with a battering ram on his shoulder. “Anything out of the ordinary, anything odd or unfamiliar.”
    “I’ve never been in this part of England before. Everything is odd and unfamiliar.”
    Win sighed. Freddie had a point—unless the culprit was a branded felon or Freddie had stumbled on him in the very act of breaking in, what was there to arouse suspicion? “Never mind. Just bear in mind that there may be a thief on the loose, and keep your wits about you when you’re out walking.”
    Freddie speared a potato with his fork. “I always keep my wits about me.”
    Win was tempted to remind him of the many complaints from his tutor at Cambridge that Freddie had spent more time lost in his own thoughts than paying attention to lectures, or of the recent occasion when he’d left the pasture gate open, allowing the Grange’s Shorthorn bull to escape. But Win had learned to pick his battles with his younger brother. Besides, it was possible the break-in had been some sort of prank, or Lady Radbourne was right and the intruder had merely been seeking refuge from the January cold. After all, nothing of value had been taken.
    “So when you went to the dower house,” Freddie said, “did you meet Lady Radbourne?”
    “Yes, and her sister. They’re both—”
    Freddie interrupted him. “Because I wish this matter of the inheritance were settled.”
    “I wish it were settled too, but there’s little I can do on that score.”
    “If we’re going to stay, obviously I’ll want to clean out the silage and unblock the window and the gables. With thirty thousand a year, that shouldn’t pose a problem, should it?”
    Win squinted in confusion. “Unblock the window and the gables? What are you talking about?”
    Freddie mirrored his own look of confusion. “The dovecote on the home farm, of course.”
    “I thought Dyson said the estate doesn’t have a dovecote.”
    “Weren’t you listening to a word I said? I discovered a fine stone pigeonniere that must be as old as the abbey itself, or nearly so, only some fool ancestor converted it into a granary.” Freddie leaned forward, his eyes lighting up with an almost feverish enthusiasm. “It’s positively splendid—much bigger than the dovecote at the Grange, a full three stories high. I couldn’t get inside, and the window and open gables were bricked up long ago, but the ledges and the nesting boxes were likely built into the walls, so they ought to be intact.”
    “I wouldn’t grow too excited about it if I were you. It sounds as if it needs a good deal