“The estate will be mine? It won’t belong to a gentleman who will hold it for me?”

The secretary shook his head. “The instructions are clear—you will be the owner.”

She stared at him in utter disbelief. This was beyond unexpected. It was a bloody miracle. “Does the estate have income?”

“Enough to support the house and provide a modest living for the inhabitants.”

This was unbelievable. “You said it’s called Horethorne?” The name was familiar.

Dyer smiled. “Yes, it’s a lovely estate in south Somerset.” As soon as he said Somerset, Fiona remembered where she’d heard the name of the estate. And with that, she recalled precisely what it was before the secretary even finished. “His lordship spent most of his childhood there.”

Her stomach sank. “Lord Overton told me about his mother’s house,” she said softly, her heart aching at his father’s cruelty. “Why would the previous earl write such a thing into his will?”

Dyer averted his gaze. “I’m sure I don’t know.”

“How can that be? You were his secretary, were you not?”

“I was. His lordship was an exacting employer, and he did not suffer inquiries, particularly regarding his intent. Such curiosity was insubordination in his eyes.” The secretary’s chin seemed to quiver a moment before his jaw tensed. “I cannot disagree that this act was singularly ruthless.”

Yet while it was terrible for Tobias, it was wonderful for her. Again, she wondered why Tobias’s father had involved her in any of this. It was one thing to be her guardian, but to see she had an extravagant Season, a large dowry, and now an estate?

“If Lord Overton weds by the twelfth, I will not inherit Horethorne, is that correct?”

Dyer nodded. “The likelihood of him doing so is quite low, however. He would need to marry by special license or perhaps run away to Gretna Green.” He said the last with a smile, then quickly sobered. His neck flushed. “Please forget I said that.”

Fiona wasn’t sure if the man was aware of the rumors about Tobias and Gretna Green but thought he must be. Why else would he react that way? Her mind returned to earlier in the interview. “You were surprised I didn’t know about this. Did his lordship tell you I knew?”

Again, the man hesitated, and his neck remained a faint pink above the crisp white collar of his shirt. “He did.”

When had he planned to tell her? Or had he decided to leave it to his secretary?

She released her hands and gently flexed her fingers to restore feeling. “Is there anything else I need to know?”

“Not at present. Do you have any questions for me?”

“No.” She rose, and he jumped up from his chair. “Thank you, Mr. Dyer. I hope you don’t feel as if this put you in an awkward position. You are only doing your job. Lord Overton—this Lord Overton—will not be upset with you.” If he was, Fiona would kick him. Repeatedly.