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He recognized it, for somewhere deep inside himself, he was feeling the same.
“I will get straight to the point,” Backston said, pulling out a stack of papers which he spread onto the table before him. “It has come to her ladyship’s attention that you, Lord Brooks, sold a valuable estate to her father little more than a decade ago.”
This was about Langdon Hall? Now Backston had Isaac’s full attention.
“She now desires to sell it back,” the man continued, his words slowing, “for exactly the same amount which it was originally sold to Mr. Grant.”
“What?” Stanley cried out, echoing Isaac’s own thoughts.
Backston nodded at their shock. “The estate was never added to the entailment, so it is perfectly legal.”
Give him back Langdon Hall, and for nearly nothing? Isaac’s gaze jumped back to Lady Nightingale. But she wasn’t looking at him anymore. Her mouth was turned downward, and her gaze rested upon the papers.
“Are you in earnest?” he asked her.
Her gaze flitted to him. “Lady Nightingale feels very sorry over her father’s treatment of you, and she wishes to set things right.”
Set things right? This would do more than that. This would set him up for good. No more scrimping to get by while scouring London for a wealthy wife. The amount she was asking would not be hard to get his hands on—she was only asking a tenth of what the estate was truly worth. No...she was asking a tenth of what ithadbeen worth.
“But,” he said, “Lady Nightingale has put a lot of work and effort into the estate. Langdon Hall is worth more now than it was when I first sold it to Mr. Grant.”
She slowly inclined her head. “Consider it interest paid on allowing her use of the land for a time.”
How he wished she didn’t have to be Mr. Allen right now. He wanted to hear her sayshewas sorry for what her father had done, thatshewanted to set things right.
Backston pushed a small stack of papers toward him and Stanley. “If you wish to look things over, please do. But you will find it’s all very straightforward.”
Stanley took hold of the papers like his very life depended upon him holding them tightly enough. In a manner, these papers did signify life, for Isaac’s holdings and wealth anyways. Stanley studied each line.
“You’ll want to read them carefully,” Lady Nightingale said. “I don’t want there to be any question. Lady Nightingale is not her father, and there isn’t any hidden clause or disadvantage to you in the deal.”
And yet, she’d been lying to him this whole time. Now this? He couldn’t understand it.
Stanley finished quickly and turned toward him. “All is in order. It’s exactly as they said, an easy purchase. Money for the full estate, exactly as you originally sold it to Mr. Grant.”
“And I am at liberty to take possession of it immediately?” Isaac asked, still reeling at the thought of owning Langdon Hall once more. Of owning an estate that generated more than all his other estates combined.
Lady Nightingale inclined her head. “Her ladyship says there is nothing of a personal import at the hall. Everything is exactly as it was when you first sold it. So, yes, you are free to take possession as soon as you wish it.”
Which meant he could take possession in time to make Spring decisions.
Isaac ran a hand down his face, glancing over at Stanley. The man seemed to be staring him down, willing him to accept the offer with every ounce of strength he had inside him. The man’s expression nearly made Isaac laugh out loud. This was all so unexpected, he hardly knewhowto react.
“Then I accept,” Isaac said, the words stumbling out of him like a colt trying to walk.
Backston motioned toward the papers. “Just sign where it indicates, and we’ll consider the deal finalized.”
Isaac couldn’t help but marvel that this was all happening so quickly. Normally a sale of this size required months of negotiations. The buyer would need to see the land, ride or walk the border, speak with some of the tenants, stay at the house for a time. The seller would want to know the buyer had the funds necessary, references would have to be consulted, and exact terms would have to be talked about over and over again.
But Isaac already knew the property, knew exactly what he was buying. And even he could afford the small amount Lady Nightingale was asking for payment. A few scratches of ink on paper and the deal was formally agreed upon.
“Thank you for your time, Lord Brooks,” Backston said, standing.
Isaac and his own man of business stood, as did Lady Nightingale. The more he saw her in breeches and those ridiculous fake sideburns, the more he could see the woman in the disguise. And, if he were being completely honest with himself, the more he wanted—needed—to speak with her.
They all began walking toward the door, the two men of business speaking in low tones as they discussed the act of physically moving monies about. Lady Nightingale seemed willing to look at anything other than him as she reached the door first. Isaac took a couple of long strides and rested a hand lightly on her arm.
She stilled at his touch, her gaze jumping to him, and in that moment, he could see the uncertainty inside her before she looked away once more.
