This time Cain didn't bother to hide his surprise. "Are you telling me I have a half sister?"

"No, no. She's a stepsister. You aren't related by blood. The girl is Weston's child from his previous marriage. She does, however, concern you."

"I can't imagine why."

"Her grandmother left her quite a lot of money, fortunately in a Northern bank. Fifteen thousand dollars, to be exact, to be held in trust until her twenty-third birthday or until she marries, whichever event occurs first. You've been appointed administrator of her trust and her guardian."

"Guardian!" Cain erupted from the deep seat of the leather chair.

Woodward shrank back in his own chair. "What else was your mother to do? The girl is barely eighteen. There's a substantial sum of money involved and no other relatives."

Cain leaned forward over the gleaming mahogany surface of the desk. "I'm not going to take responsibility for an eighteen-year-old girl or a run-down cotton plantation."

Woodward's pitch rose a notch. "That's up to you, of course, although I do agree that giving a man as-as worldly as yourself guardianship over a young woman is somewhat irregular. Still, the decision is yours. When you go to Charleston to inspect the plantation, you can speak with Mr. Ritter and advise him of your decision."

"There is no decision," Cain said flatly. "I didn't ask for this inheritance, and I don't want it. Write your Mr. Ritter and tell him to find another patsy."

Cain was in a black mood by the time he arrived home, and his mood wasn't improved when his stable boy failed to appear to take the carriage.

"Kit? Where the hell are you?" He called twice before the boy raced out. "Damn it! If you're working for me, I expect you to be here when I need you. Don't keep me waiting again!"