‘You were charged by her parents to give it to her, on her marriage.’
‘Her acceptable marriage,’ her grandfather countered.
‘And what did her parents deem acceptable?’ Thomas asked.
‘There were no criteria. It was left to me.’
‘Show me the will that says so,’ Thomas demanded with a cold smile.
Perhaps, if power did not work, the law might. Louisa felt a flicker of hope.
‘Do you doubt my word?’ her grandfather said, equally frostily.
‘Is there a reason to?’ Thomas did not move.
Her grandfather paused a moment too long before answering. ‘You will think so, no matter what I say. But as it happens, there was a fire and all copies were lost.’
A fire?
There had been no such thing here. Percy would have told her if the solicitor’s office had burned. Did he mean he’d burned them himself? If he had, he’d have gloated about it, just to hurt her.
He went on as if the point was insignificant. ‘I have nothing to offer but my assurance that all I have done is in the best interests of my grandchildren. And so I will continue.’ He smiled at Louisa. ‘Your brother will have everything, after I die. And that time cannot be very far off.’ He coughed theatrically and looked at Louisa. ‘I suppose that makes you happy.’
‘Certainly not, Grandfather,’ she said. ‘I have always hoped that you live just as long as you deserve to.’
He smiled in satisfaction, but only for a moment. She could see the moment the ambiguous nature of her words reached his brain. His brow wrinkled as he tried to decide if he’d heard them correctly. She could not have meant what he’d thought he heard, for it had sounded almost like a threat.
She maintained her bland smile, careful not to let it become a grin.
With a slight shake of his head, he turned back to Thomas. ‘There is scant little money, in any case. My son was a wastrel, as is his son. Most of what was left has gone to fruitless trips to London. Louisa’s portion is already spent on ballgowns and shoe buckles. She can sell them and live on the proceeds for all I care. Married or unmarried, she will not see another tuppence from me.’
She turned to Thomas, who looked ready to erupt. While it might be entertaining to watch, it was probably counterproductive. She smiled at him with an intensity that evenshe could feel was insincere. ‘I think my grandfather has made his point clear. Why don’t I show you to your carriage, Your Grace?’
He stared back, nostrils flaring and eyes blazing, struggling to maintain control. The sight of her seemed to soothe him and in a few seconds he had calmed sufficiently to speak. He shot a final glare in her grandfather’s direction. ‘We are not through with this discussion, Skeffington.’
‘I beg to differ.’ Then, without waiting for leave or even saying goodbye, he rose and left the room. It was a spectacular breach of etiquette that would have embarrassed her, had she not been so eager to be rid of him herself.
She relaxed her smile, which now felt more like a grimace. ‘Perhaps you would like to see the garden, before you go, Your Grace?’ She still used her most formal, most conciliatory voice, in case the old man had paused to listen.
It took Thomas less than a blink to guess what she was doing and play his part. ‘If you are sure it is what you wish, Miss Skeffington, I will escort you for a turn around the garden.’
‘That would be delightful.’ Louisa rose quickly and stepped towards the door, offering her arm to Thomas so he might escort her. They were silent until they reached the doors to the garden, and silent longer still, until they were away from the windows and she did not think they could be heard. Even then, when she spoke, she was quiet. She smiled up at Thomas, pointed to a flower and spoke without moving her lips. ‘He is probably watching us.’
Thomas turned his back on the house and looked down at the plant she was pointing to. ‘You must leave here with me today, Louisa. There is nothing more I can do to help you without involving my solicitors.’
‘Nothing more?’ she echoed, annoyed. ‘You could have admitted today what has been going on and finished this.’
‘I doubt it would have made a difference,’ he said. ‘He is set on keeping your money, no matter what happens.’
‘That is probably true,’ she said. The truth did not really matter to anyone but her.
‘I was a bit of an idiot, I’m afraid,’ he muttered with a shrug. ‘The scheme was doomed from the first.’
When she said nothing, he added gratefully, ‘That shows what a kind soul you have. Any other woman would berate me for letting this nonsense go on for so long.’
‘It does not really matter,’ she said, hating herself, just a little. Why was she always telling people that? Itdidmatter.Shemattered. ‘Perhaps there will be time to argue about it later, if you still wish to.’
‘You will get no fight from me. After the lies about your engagement and—’ he made a vague gesture probably meant to encompass what they’d done in the moonlight ‘—everything else? Your reputation has been ruined if there was anyone you wished to marry.’
