Page 12 of The Heir’s Return

“Was he ill?” Harry had known the man his entire life; he did not wish illness on him, but he was desperate to understand what had been happening at Ravenshire Manor.

Mina’s expression shuttered, her eyes turned down to reveal the impossible length of her dark lashes. “In a sense,” she replied softly, almost hesitantly.

“What, may I ask, does that mean?” Harry’s patience—already worn thin by the myriad obligations he’d inherited upon his father’s death—was fraying. Mina was quite possibly one of the most intelligent people he knew, so why was she pretending as if she did not know precisely the state of things? Surely, she understood he knew her better than that? They’d been separated for a long time, but some things never changed.

The room was suddenly too close, too stale. Harry shrugged out of his waxed wool greatcoat, tossed it over a nearby chair, and rolled his shoulders. Likely, his burgundy coat, loose cravat, and honey-yellow waistcoat were much worse for his travels, but he cared not one bit.

“He seems to be suffering from a type of senility.”

“Senility?” Harry nearly scoffed. “I know time takes its toll, but the man cannot possibly be elderly enough for that.” Besides, Harry suspected the problems he’d stumbled upon had been occurring long before now. Did senility account for more than a decade of errors?

Mina’s brows snapped up and her eyes began to spark. “I did not realize you were so well-versed in the human mind.” She crossed her arms beneath her chest, and Harry knew he’d made a misstep. He recognized the fire in her voice, the tilt of her head, everything about her defiant posture. The last time she’d looked at someone like that, she’d pushed one of the Stinson boys from the stable loft onto a tower of hay bales after he had the temerity to assert that she could not possibly have read as many books as she claimed because she was a girl, and girls did not read. Harry knew there was a fine line for him to walk. He needed answers, he had a right to the truth, but there was a chance he might lose Mina the same day she’d reappeared in his life. Was that a risk he was willing to take?

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, mirroring Mina’s stance. “You know why I am asking, Mina, and you are attempting to intimidate me with anger of your own. You forget how well I know you.”

With a huff, Mina rounded the desk and stomped over to him until they were nearly nose-to-nose. It was thrilling to be able to meet her on such equal ground. He hadn’t realized how much he appreciated a woman of Mina’s height until he threw himself into his new life in London and realized how often he had to bend his neck to speak to most of them. With her so close, his senses were filled with her sugar-and-vanilla scent. Sweet and warm.

Delicious.

Distracting.

“You may have known me at one time, but that was many years ago,” Mina growled.

“I think I still know you better than you think I do,” Harry replied, eyes narrowed. “I know you returned to Ravenshire Manor as soon as you suspected something was amiss with your father. You discovered he was in trouble, and now you are doing everything in your power to rescue him—even speaking to an earl with an astonishing level of impertinence.”

“And you forget I know how much you despise spiders and you scream like a nanny goat’s skittish kid whenever one comes too close.” The corners of her lips curled into a devious smile. “I believe that knowledge entitles me to a bit of latitude with my behavior.”

“It may entitle you, but it does not entitle your father to ruin my estate.”

Immediately, Mina paled. It happened so quickly that Harry prepared himself to catch her if she swooned, but she’d always been made of sterner stuff than that.

“Wh—What do you⁠—”

“Again, Mina. Do not insult my intelligence by downplaying yours. You are here in this study toiling away, and it is clear you have been at it for quite some time. You always did have a knack for uncovering trouble, didn’t you?” With that, Harry spun on his heel and left the office, turning toward the back of the house.

“Where are you going?” Mina called after him before cursing under her breath and hurrying to catch up, her slippers tapping rapidly on the floorboards that were in dire need of a good polishing.

“Somewhere my father was sorely remiss in avoiding,” he said through gritted teeth. Harry burst from the rear of the house, riding boots crunching on the scattered gravel of the courtyard as he strode toward the steward’s cottage. He pointedly ignored the bench upon which he’d held and comforted Mina the last time they’d both been at Ravenshire Manor.

“Please, stop!” Mina called after him, struggling to keep up with his long legs. “You do not understand.”

“I understand perfectly,” Harry growled and threw open the cottage door without bothering to knock. Absently, he noted the tidiness of the small space, the flight of stairs leading to the upper floor, the sparseness of the furnishings.

“Fletcher!” he bellowed when he saw no one.

“Who goes there?” called a frail voice from Harry’s left. He crossed the space and strode into what must have been used as Fletcher’s study. It was unclear why Mina had abandoned it and taken up residence in the manor house’s room for that purpose, but Harry did not much care at that moment. He found the man he sought seated before the popping hearth; a brown woolen blanket draped across his narrow lap, his long white hair tied back in a queue. His expression was one of vague confusion for the first several heartbeats that Harry was in the room. It looked as if the man had aged half a century in a quarter of that time, momentarily stunning Harry into silence.

What happened next broke Harry’s resolve.

A grin spread across Fletcher’s thin lips. He shoved the blanket from his lap and struggled to his feet, his bony hands straining at the arms of his chair as he did so. His rheumy eyes showed a glimmer of life when they met Harry’s. “A pleasure to see you, Lord Ravenshire!” The old steward’s voice quavered with excitement. “And you appear in such good health. Have you returned from visiting little Viscount Ashcombe at Eton? I am certain the lad will adjust well. It is natural for boys to experience some anxiety the first time they are sent away to school; the letter is to be expected. He will adjust. Now, I believe you will find everything in good order with these accounts…” He shuffled over to the desk covered in the rubble of an addled mind. Crumpled pieces of parchment, empty inkwells, broken quills, and ledgers filled with slanting lines of numbers covered the surface, and it became immediately clear that Mina had moved her work from this space to save it from her father’s influence. A pang of unbidden sympathy for both father and daughter struck Harry in the chest as he watched Fletcher sift through the mess to find what he believed he was looking for.

“I told you he was not himself,” Mina breathed behind Harry. He turned to find her verdant eyes glittering with unshed tears, the pink of her emotions cresting her cheeks, her chest heaving from the effort of catching up to him.

“Where is that damned ledger?” her father grumbled from the desk, his movements becoming more agitated as the minutes passed.

“I need to see to him before he grows too upset,” Mina murmured, brushing past Harry.

He wanted to help her but did not know how…nor did he believe she would accept it. He watched as she whispered placating words to her father. Both seemed to forget Harry’s presence, and he took his opportunity to slip from the room and out into the fresh, crisp air of the courtyard. Chest tight, head pounding, Harry gazed up at the swath of clear blue sky devoid of clouds and wondered at how things had changed since he’d last been there.