Page 5 of A Question of Worth

Nathaniel, having very little understanding of who Lord Harding was or what he had done, said nothing. Fairleigh was the family's own name; Harding, the title her father bore. And yet he could not pretend the objection unjust. A young lady with no connection to the family, handed so great a sum; afather impoverished and, by James's account, foolish with his debts. To his mind, a daughter raised in such a house would, no doubt, follow in her father's footsteps. That money would be squandered, or would go to pay debts that were no concern of Lady Warrington's. And she not even related to her in any way.

Mr. Braithwaite let the silence stretch, one eyebrow raised, until James subsided into his seat. Then the solicitor cleared his throat and repeated, evenly, both the amount and the recipient.

"As I was saying — an inheritance of ten thousand pounds to go to Miss Eliza Fairleigh." He picked up his sheaf of papers again. "And that with — "

Before Nathaniel could put out a hand to stop him, James was on his feet once more, throwing up his hands. "There must be something we can do. There must be some way we can contest this. I will not allow my great-aunt's fortune to be so divided." Mr. Braithwaite sent him a sharp, austere look, but James did not buckle under it — just as Nathaniel had expected. "As we have said, Miss Fairleigh is no relation to Lady Warrington, from what we can see, and thus — "

"If you will excuse us."

The urge to leap up beside his brother and begin to exclaim along with him died a quick sharp death as the lady he now knew to be Lady Newark rose to her feet with dignity, her chin lifting and her eyes flashing with what Nathaniel presumed to be anger.

"As you can imagine, this is a great shock to Eliza and to myself. I believe her part is completed and thus, we shall take our leave." Again, she let her gaze move between the two gentlemen, making no move towards the door as Miss Fairleigh remained where she was, her head bowed. Nathaniel licked his lips and looked away, feeling shame begin to settle on his shoulders. It was not as if this Miss Fairleigh had done anything wrong, just as her aunt had stated. In turn, he had given nary athought to the lady, without even being certain of her character. They ought not to blame her for anything whatsoever.

Not at this juncture, at least.

Lady Newark swallowed, clasped her hands in front of her and narrowed her eyes a fraction. "You are astonished, which I can well understand. But pray, bear in mind that mydearEliza is all the more confused and that speaking of either herself or her family in a manner that is unkind or even cruel is not at all welcomed. It only adds to our trouble."

Nathaniel lowered his head, shrinking into himself as the lady's soft voice threw heavy blows upon his own conscience.

A chair scraped as Mr. Braithwaite rose to his feet, looking towards Lady Newark and Miss Fairleigh. "There is only one thing more, but that can be spoken of in private, Lady Newark. If you step outside, I will join you shortly."

Nathaniel let his gaze settle on Miss Fairleigh as she too rose to leave. Her movements were stiff, her eyes fixing to the floor at her feet so she would not have to look at any of them. Her aunt glanced back at her, and it was clear she made a great effort to lift her chin and pull her gaze upward. He caught how her hands trembled as she reached for the door, confusion clinging to her every movement. Nathaniel had no doubt that the words spoken about her father had been cutting but, at the same time, it seemed to him that they were, at least, true.

Schooling his expression into neutrality, he turned his head away from the lady and faced Mr. Braithwaite again, noting how the solicitor's gaze lingered on the two ladies as they quit the room. For a moment, Nathaniel wondered if the man had expected such a reception, a sense of embarrassment coming over him at how harshly he and his brother had received the news of Miss Fairleigh and her inheritance. There had been nothing genteel about their sharp words!

He waited.

The door shut with a click, and James was on his feet before it had quite settled, pacing the narrow room, too agitated to keep still. Nathaniel remained where he was, leaned forward, put his head in his hands, and groaned aloud.

"This is madness, brother."

Nathaniel closed his eyes and shook his head. "I quite agree, James, but what is there to be done?"

"What in heaven's name was she thinking?" James continued, seeming not to pay the least bit of attention to what Nathaniel had said. "I cannot understand it."

"Nor can I." Sitting up, he glanced at Mr. Braithwaite, who had gathered his papers and stood waiting by his desk with the patience of a man accustomed to letting tempers burn themselves out. "It seems most unusual, for our great-aunt was not someone given to whimsical decisions and the like. She was always so considered and cautious."

His brother let out a short, humorless laugh. "Which does make it all the more confounding, does it not?"

Nathaniel grimaced, agreeing with his brother silently. His great-aunt's reputation for foresight and deliberation was well known, which meant that this bequest was not only astonishing, it was utterly mystifying.

"There will be whispers."

Nathaniel's chin lifted. It would not stay within these walls — that was the trouble of it. There had been no great crowd here to carry the tale abroad, and it made no difference at all. A young lady of no connection and no fortune, suddenly possessed of ten thousand pounds from the hand of Lady Susanna Warrington, was not a thing that could be kept quiet. Her changed circumstances would be remarked the moment she stepped back into society; the questions would follow of their own accord, and his great-aunt's name — their name — would be in every drawing room in London before the season was out. Rumours, quiet butinsidious, would thread their way through the ballrooms, spoken over games of cards and cups of tea. It could not be prevented. It could only be got ahead of.

"Our great-aunt's legacy could be stained because of this," James muttered, his jaw tightening. "Ourgood name could be tarnished. We are her relations, are we not? It must be done."

"There are others who could do it," Nathaniel murmured, uncertain of just how involved he wished to become. "Yes, it may bring some whispers and rumors, but — "

"Wewill be brought into whatever stain is pushed into the fabric of the Warrington name!" James gripped his arm, his green eyes bright with fervor as he threw back his dark hair from his forehead with the other hand. "Reputations are as fragile as a bird's egg. Pristine, beautiful but easily fractured — and once they are cracked, they can never be truly mended. You know that, Ashcombe."

Nathaniel shut his eyes.

The request was perfectly reasonable, and that was what made it impossible to refuse. James was not asking him to do something reckless. He was asking him to do his duty — the very thing Nathaniel had been trained to do since boyhood. And yet the duty in question required him to step into Miss Fairleigh's life. Not at a distance, not through intermediaries, but directly — to seek her out, to speak with her, to probe the circumstances of a bequest she had not asked for. Lord Merrow would be better placed, surely. Or Lord Harper, whose interest in the family lines was well known. Or even their cousin, Lady Bridgeford, who was far more at ease in the drawing rooms where such conversations were had.

But Merrow had no standing in the Warrington line. Harper's interest was genealogical, not practical. And Lady Bridgeford, for all her social gifts, would not pursue the matter with the tenacity it required.

There was no one else. There was only himself.