“Lady Whitmore.” Her brother’s solicitor rose and inclined his head in greeting. “Thank you for receiving me.” With a warm smile, he added, “I am glad to hear that your husband has safely returned.”

“He has, yes.” She bade him sit down. “What business brings you to Falkirk, Mr. Robinson? Have you located Daniel’s will?”

“I have.” He accepted a fresh cup of tea when she poured it. “As you know, after your brother’s untimely death, we spent several months searching for it.”

“Royce inherited the title and lands, didn’t he?”

Mr. Robinson nodded, and Emily was able to breathe again. “Good. That’s good, isn’t it?”

The solicitor took a sip of tea, his eyes troubled. “I’m afraid there’s more. It came to our attention that your uncle Nigel was named legal guardian of the children, instead of you and your husband as we’d assumed.”

Her mind barely registered his words. Uncle Nigel? As an elderly widowed gentleman, Nigel had no use for young children. Why would Daniel have done such a thing?

“Uncle Nigel is still in India,” she informed Mr. Robinson.

“He was. But he has recently returned to his estate here, upon hearing of your brother’s death. His men contacted me, and, thanks to his efforts, we were able to locate the will. It seems your brother put it into his safekeeping.”

Emily’s suspicions darkened. It seemed a bit convenient for Nigel to suddenly find the will. She barely remembered her uncle from when she was a little girl. He’d been a stout man, always smiling. But they’d had little contact with him before he’d gone off to India, save the occasional letter.

“Why hasn’t he come to see us, if he is back in England?”

“He has invited you and the children to come and visit him. Here is his letter.” Mr. Robinson handed her a folded envelope.

Emily read the contents, and when she’d finished, she clenched her hands into fists. “He expects me to leave them behind.” It was a struggle to control her anger. “The children belong in my care. I have taken the place of their mother for almost a year now.”

“True, yes. But according to the law, they are now under Mr. Barrow’s protection. Unless he agrees to name you as their guardian, you have no choice.” Mr. Robinson reached for another treacle biscuit, offering her a sympathetic smile. “I would suggest that you go and ask him to relinquish his rights. He may well agree—”

She cut him off. “I will not give my brother’s children to Nigel or to anyone else.” With a hard stare at the solicitor, Emily rose to her feet. “Good day.”