Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“Nothing to worry your head about, Ashford.” The viscount’s tone was even, but Thomas could see a vein popping out on his forehead. “As I say, your father and I took care of it.”
“Is it true that my father and you shared some meals during these disputes, usually at your estate?”
“Ah, yes. I recall that.”
“After which my father felt a bit ill.”
Viscount Polk’s eyebrows nearly flew off his forehead. “Now I certainly don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Thomas pulled his father’s journal out of his breast pocket. “I came across this journal in my father’s study today. Interestingly, right after I had caught your son Victor and my own cousin loitering about the entrance to my study.”
“I’m certain I’ve no idea about what you’re speaking,” the viscount said.
“Yes, I’m sure you don’t.” Thomas drew in a breath, gathering his bearings. “This journal is in my father’s handwriting, and it is all the more interesting because I knew my father quite well, and I never knew him to keep a journal.”
“Perhaps he kept that to himself. Perhaps he kept a journal all his life.” The viscount cocked his head. “What the devil does this have to do with me, Ashford?”
“My father was always in robust health. Yet he died so suddenly, with no causes identified by his physicians. Of course, we did not have an autopsy done as we didn’t think it necessary. I don’t know what an autopsy would have shown anyway. But my father took ill so suddenly, and none of us had any idea he was even feeling unwell”—Thomas tapped the leather-bound book in his hand—“until I came across this journal. In it my father describes feeling ill several weeks before he passed away. And of course he didn’t bother my mother about it. He never would have worried her. And unfortunately I was touring the continent during much of that time, so he wouldn’t have told me either.”
“I assure you he said nothing to me either, boy.”
Thomas whipped his gaze directly in line with the viscount’s. “Boy?”
Polk blinked. “Beg pardon, Ashford. But I’ve known you since you were a boy. To me, you’ll always be a boy, just as my sons will be boys to me.”
Right. Thomas would take Polk’s words at face value, even though they didn’t sound like face value. It sounded like Polk was speaking down to him.
He drew in another deep breath. “I will find out the truth of what happened to my father,” he said. “I will also find out the truth of why you felt you needed to dispute land and water rights that were mapped out centuries ago.”
The viscount took a long draw of his cigar. “It wasn’t anything for you to worry about. As I said, your late father and I got it all figured out.”
“And let me guess…” Thomas began. “Nothing about the border and water rights ended up changing, did they?”
“No.” The viscount exhaled cigar smoke directly into Thomas’s face. “Everything remains as it was.”
“Then why dispute it in the first place?”
“As you well know, the last couple years had been dry, and both of our estates depend on the waters from the small creeks bordering our lands.”
“And that has to do with…”
“Blimey, I don’t know why you’re making such a deal out of this.” Polk’s face began to redden. “I was a bit concerned that my lands would not be receiving enough water. I have tenants who depend on it as well as my own family and staff.”
“As do I.”
“So we simply had some talks, your father and I. It was all on good terms, and everything has been settled.”
“Yes, my lord. I see that everything has been settled, yet nothing is changed from the original border and water rights. Which is a good thing, I’d say, especially for me. But it was not a good thing, as my father is no longer with us. And it seems he consistently took ill after sharing meals with you.”
“If you’re suggesting—”
Thomas held a hand up. “I’m not suggesting anything, Polk. I’m merely relating the facts. You and I both know my father was in robust health.”
“Your father was in his sixtieth decade.”
“He was, but still in excellent health, according to his physicians. His physique was that of a much younger man.”
“People die, Ashford. It was a tragedy, to be sure. But people die.”
Thomas drew in another deep breath. Anger curled at the back of his neck, and for a moment, he thought he might strike the older man.
But that was not his way. He was bigger and stronger than Viscount Polk, and it wouldn’t be a fair fight.
But if he found out that the viscount—and his son—had anything to do with his father’s demise, Thomas would no longer be a gentleman.
He would see both of them to their graves.