He’d given his will to his friend Simon St. Clair, who was the leader of the O.S.S. and would make sure his earnings found their way to the charities Morgan most supported. Morgan also owned half of Atlantic Imports, a shipping company that had made him and Sir Lucas Seton very wealthy men. The only country the company didn’t do much business with was America because of their insistence on keeping slaves. Morgan had plans for his money to help many of the improvised families in London and if he died, he knew Lucas and Simon would see to it.
As he neared the house, he heard the distinctive sound of an ax breaking wood and followed the noise around the front and toward the back of the house. Once he cleared the building, he stopped.
The man holding the ax had always been a large man, both intimidating and imposing, while his heart was full of kindness. Hiram’s hair had grown. The dark locks were tied at the base of his neck. He looked nothing like the young lord he’d once been. A beard covered the lower part of his face, but Morgan would recognize his own brother anywhere. How Wardington had managed to find him while the Marchioness of Durham and her army of servants and hired men hadn’t, Morgan would never know. Morgan probably could have found Hiram himself, since he was well trained in finding people and knew his brother well. However, Morgan had understood the reasons Hiram had left and let his brother go, wishing him luck and happiness.
Hiram Platt looked up and blinked. “Morgan?” He looked older, his plain cotton shirt and trousers stained and tattered from being well worn. If their mother saw him now, she would cry. Faint even.
Morgan walked over to Hiram and found himself looking up as he went. It wasn’t that Morgan was a short man. He was much taller than most, but Morgan had yet to meet a man who was taller than his brother. “Hiram.”
Hiram smiled before wrapping heavy arms around Morgan. He smelled foul, but Morgan didn’t hesitate to hug his older brother back, clinging to him. It had been seven years, seven long years.
When they pulled away, there were tears in Hiram’s eyes. “I thought I’d never see you again.” He kept a hand on Morgan’s shoulder as though to ensure he wasn’t a vision. Slowly, Hiram’s smile fell. “How did you find me? Did you come alone? Did Mother send you?” He looked worried.
Morgan shook his head. “No. No one knows I’m here, Hiram. I didn’t even know it was you I was coming to see.”
Hiram frowned. “If not Mother, then who sent you?”
“The Duke of Wardington.”
Hiram’s expression didn’t clear. “Wardington sent you? Why? I knew him. We spoke occasionally, but we were never close.” Hiram paused to think. “What does he want from me? Surely, Mother has not enlisted his help in getting me to return to London.” Hiram’s English accent was all but gone, but the dread that filled his face touched Morgan’s gut.
Morgan couldn’t offer his brother any assurances. Since Wardington had not told him who he was seeing, Morgan hadn’t been prepared to see his brother. Had he known he was visiting Hiram, he would have brought things for him and perhaps letters from his friends… and maybe that was the reason Wardington had not told him. Perhaps Wardington had no plans to expose Hiram. It made sense, but it was also possible that Wardington had only kept his brother a secret in order to drive Morgan mad. That idea seemed even more plausible.
“How are you?” Morgan decided to say. “How’s Lila?”
At the mention of his wife, Hiram smiled again, and Morgan could feel the warmth that touched his eyes. The look his brother was giving him was one that Morgan would have to resign himself to never having. He could never see himself loving any woman of his mother’s choosing.
“Lila is Lily here,” Hiram told him. “And I’m Henry Pike.”
Morgan nodded in understanding.
“We’re not rich, as you can see. Some days are harder than others.” Hiram laughed softly. “Lily is better at everything than I am, since she came from the country. If not for her, we’d have starved last winter.”
Hearing that nearly broke Morgan’s heart and though he thought it insensitive, he had to ask, “Has it all been worth it?”
A peaceful expression softened Hiram’s brown eyes. “Yes. I’d choose Lily over life. I’d choose her over anything.” It was exactly what he had done. He’d chosen his wife over a title and a loveless marriage to a woman of his mother’s choosing. That had been the arrangement when their parents married. The Marquess of Durham had been impoverished when he’d begun courting Julie Grace. The Grace family had been wealthy and in order to get their money, Julie had required a few things from her husband and one of those things had been choosing the wife of the next heir. Duty to that oath had held Hiram in a bind, but Hiram had chosen love over title and left Morgan with the burden after their father died a few years ago.
And before Morgan’s father left this world, he’d made Morgan swear to honor his oath. Morgan had no other choice but to do as his father had asked.
Hiram squeezed Morgan’s shoulder, bringing him back to the present. “You have a nephew. He’s six and very tall.”
Morgan smiled at the good news and laughed. “I’m not surprised to hear this, considering who his father is.”
“Lily is pregnant again.” Hiram put on a smile, but the worry was there. They were struggling. Another child would not be good.
“I can’t let you live like this,” Morgan said. “I’ve money. I’ll send you some.”
Hiram dropped his hand and shook his head. “If you keep sending us money, eventually Mother will find me, and I’ll be forced back to London.” And once he touched England, his title would be restored.
“But you’re married. Mother has no control over you,” Morgan said.
The expression in Hiram’s eyes put fear in Morgan’s blood. “Morgan, you have no idea who that woman truly is and what she’s capable of.” He looked away.
Morgan frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, I suppose they never told you.” Hiram shook his head. “I’m sorry you’re going through this. It’s my fault.”
That couldn’t be denied.
Hiram said, “I’ll tell you what you need to know, but I warn you that you’ll never see that woman the same again. You do plan to stay the night, don’t you?”
“Of course, and while I’m here, I plan to pay my own way.”
“Morgan.” Hiram frowned.
Morgan held up a hand. “I was instructed by Wardington to bring coins. American money. No banknotes. Nothing that our mother can use to find you. You’ve nothing to fear.” Then he remembered the other half of his mission and dug into his breast pocket. He pulled out two notes, looked them over, and handed the correct one to his brother. “Wardington told me that if you replied to the question ‘Was it all worth it?’ with a yes. I was to give you this note.”
Hiram took the wax-sealed note and, without hesitation, broke it open. As he read, Morgan watched his eyes widen and his brother’s large body sway before he finally took a seat on the stump behind him.
“What is it?”
Hiram continued to read as though his brother hadn’t spoken. He looked up at Morgan. “I own half of a paper mill.”
Morgan frowned. “What?”
“Henry Pike is the heir to a paper mill in northern Virginia.” Hiram looked down at the paper and shook his head, reading again. “Apparently, a man named Adam Pike died last year, and they’ve been looking for his heir ever since.”