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“You are ungrateful, unworthy of the inheritance that should have been your father’s, that should have continued in a strong Scottish line. It ought never to have been yours.” The vitriol in the laird’s voice could not be mistaken. “I will not see an Englishman claim this castle, not while I am alive.”

An Englishman. Because Sebastian’s mother had been English, the laird considered Sebastian English as well. Only English.

“The Wakefields are English,” Sebastian said. “You seem to approve of them.”

“I approve of them for Burnwick House. This is Teviot Castle. I am its laird. And you are—” Grandfather stopped himself but did nothing to hide his angry disapproval.

“I am Sebastian of the Home Farm. In your eyes, that is truly all I am.”

“Even that is more than you ought to be.”

To Sebastian’s surprise, the hurtful words didn’t pierce or stab. They were less a matter of discovery as confirmation. His grandfather resented his very existence. Deep down, Sebastian had suspected as much.

“You truly mean to lie to the Wakefields should they ask you the truth of my family connections?” Again, he was looking for confirmation, not asking because he didn’t know the answer.

“It will not be a lie. I consider myself to have no family.”

No family. For so long, Sebastian had exhausted himself attempting to make the bitter old man accept him. He’d clung to the thread of family, a thread the laird had long ago severed.

You feel your father here. You ought to feel your mother here as well. Cordelia had, in her quiet way, taught him something valuable and remarkably timely that day. The laird was not the only family connection he had. He could feel his parents with him. And he felt them especially at Dalwyck.

He didn’t need the laird to love him. “Very well. I know how to proceed.”

“And how is that?” For the first time, the laird looked a little uncertain.

“It is not for the home farmer to take up the valuable time of the laird.” He dipped a bow and turned and left without another word.

Sebastian felt more than a little foolish standing at the far edge of the Burnwick House grounds. But Connall had learned from his sister that Cordelia and Miss Seraphina took morning walks in this area of the estate. He needed to talk with Cordelia but didn’t dare attempt to do so at the house.

He’d spent the night before sorting things out in his own mind. He wasn’t entirely certain how to make the Wakefields aware of his true identity, but he would not leave Cordelia in the dark on that matter any longer.

Connall and his younger brother were tending to things on the home farm again so Sebastian could make yet another unexpected journey away from home, this one far shorter than the last.

He’d been standing where he was for nearly half an hour when Fate finally decided to smile upon him. The two sisters came around a turn in the path and spotted him there. Wanting to give them the opportunity to avoid him if they chose, he stayed where he was and waited. Neither hesitated, neither seemed upset. They both came quickly to where he stood.

“Our parents will be upset if they see you here,” Cordelia warned.

“I’ll be quick, I promise. I have been worried about you since yesterday. Your parents were very cross. I’ve feared they might be mistreating you.”

“Nothing so—” Her stalwartness dissolved, and tears filled her eyes. “Oh, Sebastian.”

He wrapped his arms around her. She leaned immediately into his embrace.

“They took my paints and my pencils and everything.” Her voice broke with emotion. “And they have absolutely forbidden me from seeing you.”

“Clearly that declaration is proving efficacious,” Sebastian said dryly.

He felt her laugh a little. A very little. Sebastian glanced to Miss Seraphina, hoping for a little more information without pressing Cordelia to speak while so upended.

“They are being utterly terrible about all of this,” Miss Seraphina said. “They destroyed all of her art supplies. I think they would actually lock her up if they saw her talking with you.”

“And if they saw me holding her like this?”

“They’d probably shoot you.”

“Lovely.” He pushed out a breath. “Cordelia, dear, allow me to set your mind at ease on the first matter.” He set her just enough away from him to look into her tear-splotched face. “Glenna gave your art box to her brother, who brought it to me. It wasn’t destroyed. It is safe and whole at the home farm, hidden from view and waiting for the day when you can safely reclaim it.”

Hesitant hope entered her eyes. “Truly?”