“I’ll ask Simon about Jackson then.” She glanced at the windows. “Would you like to go for a walk to Thorsay House? The weather is pleasant and there are a few things I’d like to collect for Christopher.”

Lucas rose. “I’d love to. I’ve been studying financial reports and they’re putting me to sleep.”

“Financial reports?” she asked as they headed outside into a brisk but bright spring day. “Are you sure you wouldn’t find a nice novel or travel account more amusing?”

“Anything would be more amusing,” he said with a laugh. “Simon and I both inherited substantial ownership in several businesses from our mutual grandfather. Since retiring from the army, Simon has become interested in running them and he seems to have inherited our grandfather’s business brain. Personally, I’d much rather spend a pleasant afternoon setting broken bones.”

It was Kendra’s turn to laugh. “Isn’t it fortunate that there are so many different talents in the world!”

“Indeed,” he said as she took his arm. “I’m content to let Simon run the businesses, but he asked me to spend some time familiarizing myself with how they’re run and how money is made and spent. He’s right, I need to have a general idea of their operations, but it’s too much to ask me to enjoy it.”

“I must admit that I find business and the management of money rather interesting,” she admitted. “I speak with my lawyers regularly about the investments made in my grandfather’s trusts. The lawyers are entirely honest and capable, but I feel it would be irresponsible of me not to pay attention.”

“You’re sounding like Simon,” Lucas said. “I am surrounded by intimidating financial competence!”

“But I would be hopeless at splinting broken bones,” she pointed out. “I know whom I’ll call if Kit falls down the stairs and needs mending!”

“Different skills, as you say.”

They continued bantering the last blocks until they turned a corner and saw Thorsay House. Several people were clustered around the open door and raised voices could be heard. Lucas swore under his breath and accelerated. Kendra kept pace, her expression tight.

Denshire was accompanied by two men, one a burly ruffian and the other a thin gentleman who looked pained by Denshire’s shouting. Of course it would be Denshire. “I know my son is here,” he bellowed. “Give him to me!”

Mr. Brown stood in the doorway, his wife a step behind. He was looking very stubborn and very military. “You’re talking nonsense,” he said, his northern accent strong. “There’s no child here.”

“I’d have noticed when I was cleaning,” Mrs. Brown said acidly. “Now get you gone and leave us alone!”

“You’re lying!” Denshire growled. “Stand aside. I’m going to find him.”