“I need to talk to you alone, Grandfather.” Reese frowned at Duncan, then at his grandmother, Elizabeth. “I’m in trouble. I need your advice.”
Elizabeth smiled at her husband. “You counsel him, husband. I’ll send you some breakfast from the main house.” She smiled at her grandson. “Your grandfather will give you better advice on a full stomach.” She patted Reese’s arm as she walked out the door.
Duncan ushered his grandson i
nside, urging Reese to make himself comfortable. “We’ll talk as we eat,” he told Reese when Mary arrived a few minutes later, carrying a tray with enough food for two hungry men.
Reese nodded his agreement, but waited until his cousin left the cabin to begin.
“How can I help ye?” Duncan asked, reaching for a piece of fried bread and the honey pot.
“I’ve done a terrible thing,” Reese admitted. “Dishonored myself and someone I care about.” Reese bowed his head and waited for his grandfather to speak.
“I can’t believe ye would do such a thing,” Duncan said.
Reese took a sip of steaming coffee. “I have, Grandfather. And I feel very badly about it.”
“Then ye must make it right so ye’ll feel good about yourself again, laddie,” Duncan pronounced simply.
“That’s the problem. I don’t know how to make it right. I don’t know what to do. Help me do the right thing,” Reese begged.
Duncan studied his grandson. Reese had always made him proud. It was hard for him to believe Reese could do something dishonorable to himself or to anyone. But Duncan could tell from the look on Reese’s face that he felt he had dishonored someone. There were very few times Reese had sought his counsel. His grandson was a proud, confident man, sure of himself and his place in the world. If he came to Duncan seeking guidance, it was because Reese felt he needed it. This was a serious matter.
“Tell me what it is ye’ve done,” Duncan said. “Then maybe I’ll know how to help ye.”
Reese poured another cup of coffee for himself and his grandfather, then settled back in his chair and began to talk. He told Duncan the truth about his grand scheme to gain a legal heir without having to declare his feelings before God and man. Reese hadn’t had to wait at the altar for a bride who might or might not show up. He had simply purchased a mother for his child. His emotions hadn’t been involved. It was a logical business transaction. He’d paid Faith enough money to insure her appearance before a judge.
Reese finished relating the events, then sat quietly gazing into the fireplace, waiting for Duncan to speak. The plan that had once sounded so grand to his ears, so clever, now sounded tawdry, like the scheme of a swindler.
“Ye mean you didn’t stand up with the lass? Ye sent your cousin in yer place?” Duncan was outraged. “Ye mean to tell me that ye plan to take the lass’s child and keep it? For money? And never allow her to see it again?”
Reese nodded his head without speaking.
“I can’t help ye with this, lad.” Duncan shook his head. “I’m heartsore and disappointed in ye. There’s only one way ye can make this right and I canna do it for ye. Do ye understand?” Duncan’s voice rose in agitation. His gaze sought the gaze of his grandson. Their eyes met and locked. “Ye must face your greatest fear.”
Reese understood what his grandfather was telling him, but he wasn’t sure he could do it.
“It will be easy if you love the lass,” Duncan assured him. “Ye do love her, don’t ye?”
“I don’t know,” Reese confided. “I don’t know what love is anymore. I loved Gwendolyn…”
“Bah! That shallow creature?” Duncan scoffed. “Ye didn’t love her. Ye loved the idea of marrying her. Of thumbing yer nose at high society.” He gazed at Reese. “She didn’t hurt yer heart, laddie.” He gestured for Reese to keep quiet when he opened his mouth to defend himself. “She hurt yer pride.”
“What should I do about Faith?” Reese stood up, tossed the dregs of his coffee into the fireplace and began to pace. Deep in his heart he knew what to do, but he wanted Duncan to confirm it.
“I dinna raise a fool,” Duncan reminded him. “Ye know what to do. Marry the lass for real. Beg her on yer knees if ye have to. Or send her home—with her child.”
“I can’t.” A desperate, tortured expression haunted Reese’s eyes.
It broke Duncan’s heart to see it, but he refused to pity his grandson. Duncan turned his back to Reese. “Then I’ll have nothing more to do with ye until ye come to yer senses.”
Reese walked to the door.
“One more thing, lad.” Duncan didn’t turn to face Reese, but called over his shoulder. “I’ll have yer word that ye won’t touch the lass unless ye plan to marry her.”
“Grandfather…”
“Yer word, mon.”