Page 96 of A Rogue in Firelight

Ronan turned to the second page, read through to the end, and glanced up, stunned and relieved. “He will recommend that the courts grant Darrach to me.”

“Lock, stock, and barrel. You will be—and essentiallyare—Viscount Darrach.”

Shaking his head slowly, trying to take it in after so much doubt, Ronan read on. “He says he will ensure that I am declared legitimate heir to Darrach through close kinship. He will recommend that I be awarded the estate, including Darrach Castle and its grounds and lands to its north, south, east, and west boundaries, including villages, crofts, and tenanted properties.”

He felt almost dizzy, as if the world had tilted and was righting again.

Hugh nodded. “He submitted his decision in signed documents to the Session and Lyon Courts. We must await the letters patent, but Evan made their task simple.”

“My God,” Ronan breathed. “I did not expect this.” Relief washed through him. Now the ruse was unnecessary. He could be presented to the king and to anyone as a legitimate member of the peerage.

And the risk to Ellison was lifted. He blew out a breath, rubbed his neck.

“It is not quite as perfect as it appears,” Hugh said. “There is a condition.”

Ronan narrowed his eyes. He should have known not to fully believe in luck.

“Sir Evan wrote to me separately. His father, the late chief, favored you as the heir to Darrach, but without your cousin’s will, it needed to be reviewed by the Court of Session and the Lyon Court. Then Sir Evan had to review clan matters anew. All this you know.”

Ronan nodded. “Go on.”

“Your, ah, legal difficulties gave Evan pause. But rest assured that Ronan MacGregor, accused smuggler, is not named in the inheritance documents. Only John Ronan MacGregor of Glenbrae, lawyer, nearest kin of the deceased, is mentioned.”

“My legal name. Good.”

“You should also know that Sir Evan took pains to keep it separate.”

Ronan felt his throat tighten. “I am grateful.”

“The courts had tossed the decision to the clan chief, but when Evan heard of your pardon, he was keen to review it carefully.”

“I am not convinced that the charges have been cleared entirely. I do not trust Sit Hector—or his secretary Corbie.”

“Nor do I. We will sort that out. Now to the condition.” Hugh sat forward. “Sir Evan has decided that Glenbrae must be sold.”

Ronan stared, dumbfounded. “What do you mean?”

“The inquiry into the Darrach estate revealed considerable debt, the result of poor decisions and expenditures over two generations. Nothing you knew about.”

“I had no idea. My cousin John never said during the time he held Darrach. Go on.” Lose Glenbrae! He felt cold and numb.

“The debt on the estate must be cleared to avoid forfeiture, especially as it is attached to a peerage title. Sir Evan feels that selling Glenbrae is the solution. There has been an offer.”

“I see.” He suspected from whom, and it sat like a stone in his chest. Suddenly other things made sense. He recalled his father and his uncle, the elder Darrach, arguing about luxuries and expenses. When Ronan’s cousin John had inherited the Darrach estate, he had insisted that Ronan make Glenbrae whisky the finest it could be and move it as fast as possible to fetch the highest price.

Risks were taken too often. Ronan, Will, and young Darrach had argued, and soon the notorious Whisky Rogues—Will and John only—emerged to be chased, hunted, and finally killed. To protect their reputations and that of the whisky, Ronan had taken on all of the work—and the smuggling plan—with help from the Muirs and Linhope and MacInnes too.

But he had not known about the burden of debt on the Darrach estate.

“I see,” he repeated. “What becomes of Glenbrae now?”

“You will have the rank and title of Viscount Darrach and keep the Darrach lands. But you must relinquish Glenbrae, Invermorie, and any related properties to be sold. I am sorry, Ronan.”

“My glen.” Ronan gripped the arm of the chair. “The tenanted farms. The castle where my family lives. The distillery?”

“All of it.”

“Sold to whom?”