Avalon by Stephen R. Lawhead Page B

asked bluntly. He had not come all the way to London to play games. “If there was even the slightest possibility of direct inheritance, I would have found out about it long ago and I wouldn’t be here now.”
    “You are not listening,” Embries replied calmly.
    “You’re not saying anything worth listening to!” snapped James irritably. “It’s all just smoke and mirrors!”
    Cal regarded his friend with mystified shock.
    “I’ve already told you a great deal,” Embries contended mildly. “Unless there is some special distribution of assets and property to be made in accordance with the last will and testament of the deceased, the legal heirs need not be named. In fact, there need be no will at all, strictly speaking.”
    “Look, I know all this. What’s the point?” demanded James, suddenly angry with Embries for wasting his time.
    “Barring any legal impediment — such as a dispute of ownership — under Scottish law the estate would simply fall to the sole surviving heir of the Duke.”
    In his present state it took James a moment to realize what Embries had just told him. “You’re saying
I’m
the Duke’s heir?”
    “Great God Almighty,” croaked Cal, sitting down slowly. “So that’s the rub.”
    “The sole surviving heir to the Duke’s estate,” corrected Embries, “and therefore entitled to all his worldly goods and possessions.”
    James stared incredulously at his eccentric benefactor. “And just how do you figure that?”
    “By reason of the fact that you are the Duke of Morven’s grandson.” He said it so matter-of-factly that the full impact did not register on James at once.
    “His grandson,” James repeated dully. He felt his stomach tighten.
    “The son of his only son, to be precise.”
    Good Lord
, James thought, mentally taking a deep breath; he looked at Cal, who was shaking his head in astonishment.
    Embries settled his long frame on the edge of the desk and regarded his visitors with sympathetic good humor. “I can understand that this is quite a lot to take in, but perhaps I can tell you a story which will explain.”
    James regarded the old man suspiciously. “Go on then.”
    “It starts like this,” Embries said, smoothing a wrinkle from his smart black suit. “A young nobleman — a marquess, in fact — fell in love with a beautiful young woman named Elizabeth Grant whose family were tenant farmers on his father’s estate. The Marquess’ father, the Duke, opposed the union hatefully and unreasonably. He was a man of harsh judgments and definite opinions; once he got a notion into his head, it stayed.
    “For reasons known only to himself, the Duke took an intense dislike to the lass who had captured his son’s heart. I cannot think that it was anything to do with the young woman in question; she was above reproach. It is likely that the Duke nursed a private hope that his son would marry someone of his own station, thereby increasing his fortunes in the world and restoring something of the ancient luster to the family. Then again, perhaps he merely wanted to indulge a show of power.
    “However it was, he forbade the marriage. In defiance, the young people eloped, marrying in secret, and then toured the continent for a few months to give the old boy time to cool off and change his mind.
    “They returned from the honeymoon to find the Duke more bitter and adamant than ever. He took his son aside and gave him a simple choice: dissolve the marriage at once, or be disowned and forfeit his title, lands, and income, and any possibility of regaining his father’s affection for the rest of his life. He left the two young people alone to think about it for an hour or two.
    “As it happened, the young Marquess was not at all a materialistic man. I do believe he would gladly have forfeited his inheritance to live in humbler circumstances with the woman he loved. But there was someone else to consider now: his young wife was pregnant. While the Marquess might have