“Save your pity,” Lady Clarice snapped, not even looking at her. “Your heathen Highlander has more to say.”
“So I do.” Lucian didn’t smile. “It wasn’t the lack of coin that drove you to the Sea Rose. The patrons filled your need for certain attentions. That was especially so after your husband was lost, which is entirely understandable.”
She bristled. “I do not wish your sympathy.”
“You do no’ have it,” Lucian returned. “You would, had you not let greed drive you to make attempts on your stepdaughter’s life.”
She gasped, coloring again. “I have no idea what you are insinuating.”
“Nae?”
“Nae,” she snapped, mimicking his Scottish accent.
A that was a mighty mistake.
Lucian set down the brandy he’d been about to sip. Instead, he glanced at Melissa, his innards twisting at having reminded her of such frightening events.
Regrettably, it couldn’t be helped.
So he ignored how her stepmother’s eyes narrowed and told the woman everything he knew about deliberately damaged bridge timber and falling urns.
When he finished, he had the unpleasant feeling that when his business with the woman was done, he’d suffer the same sort of achy-head he’d earn if he’d downed a barrel of soured ale. Even so, not addressing certain intolerable affairs would leave him in a much worse state. And he did not want to carry around such guilt for the rest of his days.
So he kept his gaze on Lady Clarice, not surprised by the anger churning inside him. He could not tolerate injustice or cruelty, and he viewed greed as an abomination.
“You cannot prove a word of your accusations.” The lady misjudged him.
“I know them to be true,” he said, his tone as cool as hers. “And as they are, you cannot be allowed to remain in this house. But I am not entirely heartless. As one of my reasons for journeying to London was to sell my townhouse and that has not yet happened, I propose that you, your daughters, and your staff, take up residence there. I shall have my own staff moved here.”
“Are you mad?” She looked amused.
Lady Melissa said nothing, her eyes round as she watched them both.
“No doubt I am crazed, my lady,” he admitted, shaking his head. “I should not offer you a new home at all.
“But…” He paused, his gaze on a large gilt-framed portrait over the hearth, a painting of Lady Melissa’s father. “As my bride’s father clearly had feelings for you, I will not see your neck stretched. Nor will I see your daughters made to suffer the lack of a decent roof over their heads. London will also-”
“My girls and I will not be moving to your townhouse.” She lifted her chin. “You can leave now and take my stepdaughter with you. Good riddance to you both.”
“London will afford you all opportunity to secure advantageous matches for your daughters,” he said, knowing that was also true.
The girls were prickly and vain, but also beautiful. Three poor sods would fall for them, paying any price to claim such lovelies as their brides.
“Are you quite finished?” She eyed him haughtily.
“Nae.” He looked her up and down, annoyed that he had to admit that she, too, was stunning. “You will surely attract a third husband for yourself as well, should you desire one.”
“My desires are none of your business.”
“Indeed,” he agreed. “But seeing you removed from Cranleigh does concern me. You have heard my suggestion. Accept it, or you will be left to fend for yourself without such aid.”
“I do not need your help.” She spoke with finality. “I am not going anywhere.”
“Ah, well…” Lucian turned from her to stare out the window at the gardens. “That is your choice, but be aware that I have witnesses who will swear that they not only heard but saw you instructing the men who tampered with the footbridge. Likewise, they will testify to having seen your men carry away the damaged planks and then burning the wood out on the moor.
“Other men will swear they witnessed you order someone to hurl the stone planter from the roof, hoping to strike your stepdaughter dead.”
“Someone?” She lifted a brow. “You cannot even name this person?”
