Devil in Disguise (The Ravenels #7) by Lisa Kleypas

“Wallace,” Keir said dryly, “I dinna know where you think you’ll find a blessed inch of empty space.”

The terrier persisted, however, hopping up near their feet and painstakingly crawling over their bodies.

“Wallace will come to London with us, of course,” Merritt said, reaching out swiftly to steady the dog as he wobbled. She pulled him onto her lap and leaned back against Keir. “As soon as Ethan says it’s safe, we’ll stay at my—our—home there, and meet with your father.” She paused, disconcerted. “I’m sorry, I meant with Kingston.”

“I dinna mind,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. “He is my father, whether I call him that or no’.”

Merritt smiled and gently scratched Wallace’s head and ears until he sighed and slumped across her lap. “He’ll explain how we should proceed with the trust, and we’ll meet with all the solicitors and bankers and so forth.”

“’Tis no’ the trust I’m worried about,” Keir said morosely. “’Tis the estate and title. I have no connection to those lands—nor to the people who farm it—and I dinna think I can live in a place where my mother bided in such misery.” He paused. “Can I no’ give any part of it away?”

“One can’t give away a title, I’m afraid. And perhaps there’s a tiny percentage of land you might be able to sell, but most of it’s probably entailed. That means it has to be kept all together, along with the house, to pass down to the next generation. You won’t really own it so much as you’ll be its caretaker until the next Lord Ormonde. Certainly you wouldn’t want to evict the current tenants, who are good, hardworking people.” She thought for a long moment. “However … that doesn’t mean the manor house itself can’t be used for some other purpose.”

“Such as?”

“A school?” she suggested.

“A school for what?”

“For boys and girls who are disadvantaged and need a good education as well as a healthy, happy place to live.”

Keir pressed his lips to her head. “I like that idea,” he said. “Very much.”

“It’s not the same as running your distillery of course, but there might be aspects you would find interesting and rewarding.”

“’Tis about more than making whisky, my distillery,” he said reflectively. “The part I like the most is that my men and I, we’re all working together to make something good. Something we’re proud of. I think … I could feel some of that for a school.”

Merritt smiled and nestled more tightly against him.

They talked into the evening, until they were both tired and ready for bed.

“Let’s bathe first,” Merritt suggested.

Keir parted his lips to reply, when Wallace suddenly leaped off the settee and ran uneasily from the main room to the bedroom and back again. His small body quivered with excitement, and his wiry fur stood on end.

“What is it?” Keir wondered aloud, going to the window. Merritt turned down the lamp to reduce the glare of reflected light.

All three of them jumped as they heard a jarring sound from the distillery, a mingling of groaning metal and broken glass, as if something had smashed.

Then the night was silent.

Wallace erupted in furious barking, until Keir laid a gentle hand on his head, quieting him.

“An accident with machinery?” Merritt suggested. “Perhaps one of the copper stills fell over?”

Keir shook his head, staring intently out the window.

Something was wrong. Merritt felt her insides turn hollow. She went to the bedroom, took the Bulldog revolver from the leather valise where she’d been keeping it, and turned the lamp down in that room as well. As she glanced through the window at the whitewashed walls around the distillery, she couldn’t detect any movement.

Soon Keir came into the bedroom, his face grim. “Duffy would have come in to say something about it by now, if he were able.”

“Let’s go out together and look for him,” Merritt suggested.

Keir shook his head. “Stay here in the bedroom with the dog, keep the revolver with you, and lock the door. Wallace will growl if a stranger tries to come in.”

“What are you planning to do?”

“I’m going to look for Duffy outside, and if he’s no’ there, I’ll look in the distillery.”

“Keir, no—I’m coming with you. You’re not armed, and I—”

“You can’t shoot in the distillery, darlin’, or you might blow it to kingdom come. I can find my way through the distillery in the dark if need be, Merritt. I know it much better than he does. Dinna go in there—wait for me here. I’ll come back. I promise.” His lips twitched as he added, “And dinna shoot my dog by accident.”

After Keir had left the house, Merritt watched from the bedroom window for at least fifteen minutes. The distillery’s many roofs and walls, and the long ma-chair grass surrounding the whole of it, were eerily illuminated by the blue light of a cloud-ghosted moon. Her breath caught as she saw Keir go through one of the side arches leading into the main building.

Wallace, who was standing beside her with his front paws braced on the windowsill, wagged his tail, and licked and panted.