Free Enlightened by Joanna Chambers Page B

solicitor administering Elizabeth’s trust.”
    “Yes, I remember.” Although David was one of Elizabeth’s trustees, so far he’d had no need to perform any duties since Donald had taken that burden on his shoulders after David’s accident. “Is there a problem?”
    “It’s Kinnell. He’s been to Charles’s office. He was asking questions about Elizabeth.”
    David stared helplessly at his friend, trying not to betray how profoundly this news, that Elizabeth’s husband was so close to her, scared him. He’d experienced firsthand what Kinnell was capable of when he had his wife in his sights.
    “Charles doesn’t think it means Kinnell knows about the trust, or even that she’s in London,” Chalmers continued. “Kinnell may have just gone to see him on the off chance—he knows Charles is family—but equally, he could have been watching Charles’s offices.”
    Charles’s office, where Elizabeth went to collect her trust income every month.
    David searched for something reassuring to say, but before he could come up with anything, Chalmers spoke again.
    “I want you to move the business of administering the trust to another solicitor—preferably in another city altogether, if Elizabeth can be prevailed upon to leave London. Only one of the trustees can deal with this.” He paused and sent David a regretful look. “David—I know it isn’t fair to ask you, but I can’t ask Donald. Not with Kitty as she is.”
    “Is that all?” David asked. “No need to apologise, old friend. Consider it done.”
    “I shouldn’t be asking you,” Chalmers replied unhappily. “I know you’re not fully recovered.”
    “Well, I don’t need to be for this. It so happens that Lord Murdo leaves for London tomorrow, and I’m sure he’ll be willing to take me with him in his carriage, so I’ll travel like a king and be in the capital within the week.” He paused briefly. “And I’ll do what I can to persuade Elizabeth to move elsewhere. She needs to get out of Kinnell’s reach. I’ll write to let you know how I get on.”
    Chalmers sighed, a soft gust of mingled relief and sadness. “Thank you. Though I doubt I’ll see any letter you send me once you’re there.”
    “Of course you will—”
    Chalmers waved an admonitory finger at him. “No lies, David, please. Not between us.”
    David swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat, then forced himself to nod, and Chalmers managed a weak smile in reply.
    The silence that followed was broken only by Chalmers’s laboured breathing. David watched him, noting the tiny facial clues—the faint furrowing between his brows, the tightness of his mouth—that hinted at the pain he was suffering.
    After a while, Chalmers roused himself to speak again. “She talks a lot about this Euan MacLennan. I think they may be living in the same house.”
    His tone was neutral, impossible to read.
    “I believe so.”
    A brief lull, then, “Do you think she loves him?” Chalmers’s gaze was troubled.
    “I don’t know,” David said. Then, driven to honesty: “But I know he loves her. And he is a good man. As far from Kinnell as a man can be.”
    Chalmers gazed at the ceiling, pondering that.
    “When you see her,” he said at last, his voice dropped almost to a whisper, “tell her—tell her that I’m sorry I allowed Kinnell to propose to her. I never liked the look of him, and I should have gone with my gut instead of being swayed by Margaret’s wishes.”
    “I’ll tell her.”
    “And tell her I want her to be happy—above all else. If she loves MacLennan, she should have him. It’s not her fault that she can’t marry him.” His eyes drooped again as he rested back against the pillows, breathing shallowly. He was exhausted now, paper white, with a sheen of perspiration on his brow. Yet he steeled himself to speak once more. “Tell her about—about Mary,” he said.
    “I will,” David murmured, covering one frail hand with his own. “I