The Last Heiress Read Free

his own wealth. His estate of Brierewode, along with the matching lands his marriage to Philippa had brought him, were more than enough for him.
    And when his cousin Rosamund had despaired of what would become of her beloved Friarsgate, it was her youngest daughter, Elizabeth Meredith, who had spoken up and declared she would have it, for of the three sisters it was Elizabeth who loved Friarsgate the best. So it had been agreed that upon her fourteenth birthday Friarsgate would be turned over to Elizabeth, and it had been. Rosamund, who had spent much of her life caring for, loving, defending, and making Friarsgate prosper, retired to her Scots husband’s home at Claven’s Carn to raise Logan Hepburn’s five sons, four of whom were theirs.
    Elizabeth Meredith, like her mother before her, had been born to manage the Friarsgate inheritance. She loved the land. The raising of sheep fascinated her. She tried breeding different kinds of the creatures to see whether the wool they grew was different, or better. She spent two days each week in a chamber set aside for estate business, where she oversaw the export trade her mother and uncle had set up.
    No one had yet to match the Friarsgate blue wool cloth they sold through their factors in the Netherlands, and Elizabeth had been working for several years now to develop a new and unique color. So far, nothing had satisfied her.
    She was a great chatelaine of her lands, and therein lay the problem. Nothing meant more to her than Friarsgate. It was her raison d’être. Elizabeth did not acknowledge the passing of time, or bother to consider a future in which she would play no part. Like all great estates, Friarsgate needed to be assured of a new generation.
    Thomas Bolton sighed to himself. Elizabeth Meredith was by far the loveliest of Rosamund’s daughters. But her social skills were practically nonexistent. She had been taught them, but had no use for fine table manners, or the playing of an instrument, which she had once done quite well. Her clothing was that of a country farmer’s wife, and not a young heiress. She spoke directly, and sometimes roughly. All the niceties she had been bred and born to were forgotten in her passion to oversee Friarsgate.
    And that in part, along with his desire for a quieter household, was his reason for going to Friarsgate for the rest of the winter months. Before he might introduce Elizabeth into court he would have to reeducate her in the ways of her station. They were going to need Philippa’s aid once they were at Greenwich, and Philippa was unlikely to give it, blood kin or no, if Elizabeth was going to prove an embarrassment to her oldest sister. That would be one of the first things he must work on with Elizabeth, Thomas Bolton decided. He had to convince her before they departed Friarsgate not to deliberately irritate Philippa.
    Finding a husband for Elizabeth Meredith was going to prove a far greater challenge to him than finding a husband for her two sisters had.
    William Smythe was an invaluable servant and companion. By the following morning he had his master prepared to depart Otterly. The cart carrying their baggage had left at first light for Friarsgate. Six Otterly men-at-arms were waiting to escort Lord Cambridge and his secretary. It was a long ride, but if they rode out early enough they would reach Friarsgate shortly after dusk.
    “Oh, Uncle, must you leave us?” Banon Meredith Neville asked him as they broke their fast in the hall. “When will you return?
    Jemima, stop teasing your sister!”
    “My dearest girl, you know how your mother relies upon me in such matters. Elizabeth must have a husband, and seems not of a mind to find one for herself. I must drag her off to court and seek a miracle, Banon, my angel. I hope you will pray for our success.” He spooned some egg into his mouth, smiling as he tasted a hint of both chive and cheese. Then he took a swallow of his morning wine. “Your youngest sister is not an