Straw in the Wind by Janet Woods Page B

consider. Something suddenly registered on Adam’s brain and his jaw nearly dropped open. What had Edgar said? Had he heard it correctly? ‘I think I misunderstood you, Edgar.’
    Edgar grinned. ‘About the liaisons or the fact that I intend to make you my heir?’
    â€˜Since I’m quite able to handle any of the former which may come my way . . . that leaves only the latter.’
    â€˜You didn’t misunderstand. I have no kin of my own except for an elderly uncle, who at the age of ninety-two has already outlived his two offspring. As my stepson you’ll be named as my heir. I also intend to provide for Celia, and should she marry or not, there will be a trust fund she can draw an income from so she has some degree of independence where finances are concerned.’
    â€˜Did my mother—?’
    â€˜I haven’t discussed my finances or plans with Florence or Celia, so neither has been informed as yet. I’d rather it was kept confidential between us for the time being, Adam. Rest assured, if anything happens to me your mother will be well taken care of.’
    Adam took a sip of his brandy then shook his head, which was in a state of turmoil. ‘I don’t know what to say, Edgar. You’ve been exceedingly generous and I thank you.’
    â€˜You’re a fine young man, Adam; your father would have been proud of you.’ Edgar downed his brandy, rose to his feet then held out his hand. ‘Let’s shake on it, then go and join the ladies.’
    Adam’s mother was out of her mourning dress now, and was gowned in a sweeping silver-grey watered taffeta, the delicate lace collar secured by a gold brooch, its central garnet seated in small pearls. Just turned forty-five, Florence Chapman had a fine complexion. Her blue eyes were clear, her hair mid-brown. She was a handsome woman, but there was an anxious look in her eyes.
    Did she really imagine he’d object to her marrying Edgar? Tenderness filled his heart and he crossed to where she sat, kissing her on both cheeks when he got there. ‘Congratulations, mother dear.’
    â€˜Oh dear, I thought you would mind, Adam.’
    â€˜Why should I mind when your happiness is so dear to me? Celia, are you happy with the arrangement? I’m quite happy to continue to provide for you.’
    Celia smiled and nodded. ‘Perfectly. It’s about time you had a life of your own, dear brother, and I’ll see you at the office on most days. Besides, if you’re more central, mother and I will be able to see you any time we wish.’
    Odd, the rapport he had with his sister, something that had been there since he could remember. They’d always understood each other and today was no exception.
    â€˜When is the wedding to be?’ he asked.
    â€˜On Saturday the twenty-eighth January,’ Edgar said calmly. ‘That should give us time to make the necessary adjustments in our lives.’
    The following day Adam found himself in Gloucester. The countryside itself was overwhelmingly majestic, the hills dressed in various shades of rich green. The forest had a misty, mysterious appearance, reminding him of an illustration from one of his childhood books. He wouldn’t have been surprised if knights in shining armour and dragons with fiery breath emerged from the dark interior to challenge him.
    Instead, there were sheep grazing everywhere, watched over by shepherds and their dogs. Dredging through his mind for trivial information, Adam recalled that people born within the hundred of St Braivels had the right to graze their pigs and sheep in the Forest of Dean – a hundred being a geographic division. The term was a little cloudy though, since it was also applied to the ability to supply one hundred men at arms, or that the land was able to sustain one hundred families.
    The day was cold, the air heavy with mist and the foliage dripped with water that clung to his coat and hat. The