“Anything.”
“Lord Tarrington is dead, and Lydia needs to return to his estate.”
Mother’s shock was apparent. “Oh, the poor dear. She does not need another upheaval in her life.”
“I agree. I have offered to return her myself, but I would appreciate a little help in navigating what may be a messy change of guardianship. She has no idea who may be the next Lord Tarrington, and—”
A loud knock sounded at the door, interrupting him.
“That is an early caller. I will have Drake dispose of them.” Mother made for the door in the same moment it opened.
“There is an urgent missive for Miss Faraday, my lady,” the butler said.
“Thank you, Drake.” She took the letter then turned to Lucas with lifted brows. “Would you like to take it to her?”
More than anything. “Yes,” he said. “It is likely just reiterating what we already know, but I will take it. But after—I would like to borrow the traveling carriage, if I may. It would be best to help Lydia return to Tetbury as soon as possible.”
His mother appeared a bit hesitant. “I am not sure you two should travel alone...”
“You may send whomever you wish with us, but I am going with her.”
Her eyes softened. “You really care for her.”
An odd lump formed in his throat, and he coughed a bit to dislodge it. Then he nodded. “More than I thought possible.”
Her smile was wide. “Go on then, give her her letter. And tell us the moment you propose.” She paused in the act of picking up her cutlery. “Do you realize what this means? A wedding! Grandchildren!” She sighed in near ecstasy, and chuckling, Lucas quit the room, taking the stairs two at a time. He knocked on Lydia’s door with an eager sort of energy that he had not felt in years. Maybe he should not have laughed at his mother. His own insides felt very nearly buoyant. It was strange but not at all unpleasant.
The maid opened the door, and Lucas looked over her shoulder, attempting to see into the room. Apparently, love was making him improper.
Love.
It felt right—if terrifying. But it seemed he would be facing his fears because he could not live without her.
The maid pulled the door close to her shoulder so he had less room to look. He cleared his throat. “I have an urgent missive for Miss Faraday.”
The maid held out her hand. “I will take it to her.”
Lucas hesitated.
“Oh, Jones, leave him be.” The door pulled open to reveal Lydia. Her hair was up—unfortunately—but her smile was just as bright as it had been when he’d left her the night before. “A letter, you said?”
He handed it to her then remained as she pulled back the seal. Before unfolding it, she glanced at Jones. “You can go, Jones, thank you.”
The maid gave Lucas an appraising look before leaving.
“It is from a solicitor,” Lydia said, eyes making their way down the page. But of a sudden, she stopped, mouth falling open a little.
“What is it?”
She blinked twice, meeting his eyes, then looking back at the paper. “I... It says...” Her reading seemed to speed up until she reached the end. “It... No, this cannot be right.”
“What cannot?”
She reached for him, grasping his sleeve and pulling him to her side so he could read the paper with her, but before he could even begin, she said, “It says I have inherited Lord Tarrington’s title.”
“What?” But now he was reading, and she was correct. The solicitor requested she attend him at his office to go over the particulars, but in very clear, very neat writing, the facts were spelled out: Lord Tarrington was dead, the barony could pass through the female line, and Lydia was— “You are his niece?”
She made a wild, flustered sort of face at him as if to say she had not a clue. “No. I mean, I do not think so. Except—no, he has never said.”
