Page 7 of A Question of Worth

Eliza swallowed thickly, aware of the tears that were threatening her still. "I do not know, Aunt. I am all of a confusion."

"Let us think with both hope and belief in our hearts," came the firm, encouraging response. "I am certain that you will fulfil all that Lady Warrington has said and shall be free of your father's selfish, grasping hands. You will rise in society's estimation and will be able to make your own choices as regards your future... and shall be free to live just as you please, once you are of age, if you choose to remain unwed. Your father will not be able to take hold of a single penny of your inheritance, Eliza. That is a blessing, surely?"

Thinking of her father, Eliza shook her head, waiting until the fresh tea tray had been set out and the maid gone from the room before she spoke again. She could still remember the evening her father, in something of a drunken state, had informed her that she would not have a debut, would not be able to step out into society, though that was what he had promised her. His debts were too great, and the townhouse in London was no longer available to her, having been let out to anothercharminggentry couple. Eliza had not known how to respond, her emotions had been too varied and too strong for her to give him any clear answer. She had watched him as he had slumped down in front of the fire, his head lolling to one side of the chair, his other hand propping up a half-empty glass of brandy on his chest.

"Have you written to father, Aunt Letitia?" she asked tentatively. "Will he know of this?"

Her Aunt Letitia drew herself up. "Most certainly, I have not! My wastrel brother can do you no good, and to inform him of your great fortune would not only bring him to London. His presence would also shame us both, no doubt. No, my dear. We will keep ourselves quite silent on the matter until it is confirmed, one way or the other. And, I think it would be wise to have a solicitor present when hedoesarrive, once you have your inheritance secured. That way, they will be able to inform him that he has no claim upon it." She let out a small breath, a hint of a smile about her lips. "I think I should very much like to be present for that moment. Perhaps that will show him just how grasping he truly is. Mayhap that would be the catalyst for him to change his ways."

Eliza was about to state that she very much hoped that her father might one day become the considerate, careful gentleman she always prayed he might be, only for there to come a quiet knock at the door.

She frowned.

"Come."

A footman stepped inside. "My apologies, Lady Newark, I understand that you were asked not to be disturbed, but a gentleman has come to call."

Eliza's stomach twisted uncomfortably. "His card?"

The footman held it out to her, and taking it, Eliza studied it carefully. "I am not acquainted with the Viscount Ashcombe."

"Nor I." A note of interest wound through Lady Newark's voice. "He wishes to call, did you say?"

The footman nodded. "He is waiting at the door, my lady."

"Then I think it best that we speak with him, at the very least," Lady Newark said, as Eliza sighed inwardly and rose to her feet, straightening her gown as best she could and hoping that her chignon was still neat. "Have him step in." She shot a quick look towards Eliza. "I understand that your thoughtsare elsewhere but it is important that we see what it is this gentleman wants. Mayhap he has come to call upon you out of interest!"

Eliza shook her head. She knew such a thing could not be. She had only made her debut and attended one ball thus far. No gentlemen had danced with her, no one had paid any great attention to her, and thus far, no one had once come to call. Whatever this was, it was for an entirely different reason.

"Lord Ashcombe, my lady." The footman stepped to one side just as a broad-shouldered, dark-haired gentleman stepped inside. He entered with a quiet authority that Eliza felt at once. Tall and refined in his dress, his presence filled the room with a weight that had not been there moments before. She dropped into a curtsy as he bowed, aware of his brief, measuring glance. A wave of uncertainty washed over her, and she licked her lips as she sat down, throwing a glance to her aunt and hoping that she would speak first.

"Lord Ashcombe." Lady Newark cleared her throat and smiled, gesturing for him to sit down. "We are not yet acquainted, I do not think."

"No." His smile was brief, his voice low and measured but formal. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Newark." Again, he turned to Eliza, who tried but failed to smile. "And you also, Miss Fairleigh. Please forgive me for my unexpected visit. I felt it... necessary."

Eliza could not quite place the tone in his voice. There was no kindness there but an underlying coolness, as though he were determined to keep distance between them.

Was this about the will?

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance also, Lord Ashcombe," she replied, keeping her voice as steady as she could. "An unexpected visit but not unwelcome." She formed her lips into a smile, but Lord Ashcombe looked away, turninghis gaze again to Lady Newark. A silence settled over the room, a silence that Eliza did not know how to break. It was unsettling, making her skin prickle. She went still, then breathed out through her nose — a small, controlled release. Helpless, she looked to her aunt, seeing Lady Newark give her an almost imperceptible smile.

"Is there a purpose to your visit, Lord Ashcombe?" Lady Newark, unflinching in her directness, lifted an eyebrow. "Since we are not yet acquainted, I must wonder at your presence here."

Lord Ashcombe cleared his throat, nodded, and then looked again to Eliza, his expression steady. "I must confess, as you have suspected, that I did not come here for idle conversation." His tone sharpened slightly, and Eliza felt her stomach tighten. "I am here because of my great-aunt and her will. A lady you were also acquainted with — Lady Warrington."

The name struck Eliza like a blow to the chest. Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt the heat drain from her face. She had not recognized the gentleman, had not seen him at the reading of the will, but he must have been there, and must have been present to hear of the inheritance that was given to her.

"Lady Warrington's will," she repeated, her voice little more than a breath. "Might I ask if you were there at that meeting? I felt so confused and unsettled, I am afraid I scarcely lifted my eyes to take note of the others present."

He gave her a sharp nod, one thumb pressing slowly into the opposite palm where his hands rested against his knee.

Eliza looked away. "I am not at all acquainted with Lady Warrington, I am afraid. I was introduced to her many years ago, but aside from that, there was nothing of note between us." The words were true but sounded strange and brittle in her own ears. She was still asking the very same questions that were flickering in his eyes. How could it be that his great-aunt, whom Eliza had only been introduced to, would have had any interest in her?

Lord Ashcombe's eyes narrowed slightly. He rose to his feet and began to walk the length of the room, his head bowed, his hands clasped behind his back — his right thumb pressing into his left palm, slow and deliberate. "You state that you were only ever introduced?" he asked, a whisper of accusation in his words. "You are quite certain?"

Eliza lifted her chin — a fraction too high, the tendons in her neck pulling taut — as she looked to her aunt, seeing how Lady Newark's brows shot upwards. This was no simple inquiry; this was an examination. The room felt smaller than it had, and she willed her hands to stillness as she clasped them tightly in her lap. "I am certain," she said quietly, her gaze meeting Lord Ashcombe's as he spun on his heel to face her. "I have no acquaintance with Lady Warrington aside from an introduction some time ago."

"And you have no understanding as to why she singled you out in such an extraordinary fashion?"