“Oh?” She glanced over her shoulder. Every moment was precious with Jones only minutes behind her.
He nodded, shuffling through several papers until he found what he was looking for, a black portfolio that he pulled open. “Yes, indeed. When I heard you had settled here with Lord Tarrington, I assumed my luck had turned and I could finally relay my information.”
Lydia nodded as if she were following the conversation entirely and not at all confused.
Mr. Sperry brought a page from the portfolio, glancing at it before setting it in front of her. “This is from your grandfather.”
Her eyes skittered down the page then back to the solicitor. “I did not know my grandfather.”
Mr. Sperry nodded. “Yes, his original letters indicated as much.” He gestured at the paper. Hesitating, Lydia finally began to read.
Little Lydee,
You have likely forgotten me by this point in your life, but rest assured that in all of mine, I did not forget my little granddaughter. I would have been involved more in your childhood if I’d been able, but business took me to India and required me to stay. By the time word reached me of your mother’s death and I was able to tie up my affairs and return to England, you had long since been taken to live with your guardian, and I was unallowed to visit.
The physicians tell me I will die soon and that it is time to settle my estate. I will forever regret not being able to be in your life longer, but I hope that the gift I leave for you will make up for my absence. I make only one request. Do not make the same mistake as your mother in marriage.
All my love,
Grandfather
Lydia stared at the short missive, turning it over, then, finding nothing on the back, turning it to the front again. That was all, but it felt like so very much. It was a letter written by the hand of a blood relative. His handwriting slanted heavily to the right. Hers did that as well; could it have been a family trait? She swallowed back a surge of unfamiliar emotion and looked up at Mr. Sperry inquisitively. “I do not understand. He is dead?”
Mr. Sperry gave her a kind, nearly pitying look. “Yes. Some years ago.”
Her heart dropped, her hands closing tighter on the letter. “Why have I not heard from him before now?”
Mr. Sperry cleared his throat, searching through the portfolio for something else. “I was not privy to the details, but I believehe was forbidden by your guardian. They... did not see eye to eye.”
Lydia glanced back down the paper. “And he speaks of my mother making a mistake? In marriage?”
“Ah, yes, his stipulation.”
Lydia’s brows furrowed.
Mr. Sperry pulled out another paper, pushing his glasses down his nose to peer at it. “Here it is.” He cleared his throat again. “To my granddaughter, Lydia Margaret Faraday, I leave the entirety of my fortune, at current, thirty-thousand pounds.”
Lydia could not contain the gasp that fell from her mouth, but Mr. Sperry continued undeterred, “On the condition of her reaching her twenty-fifth birthday unwed.” He cleared his throat.
Her entire body felt as if it were filled with both heat and cold at once. This could not be real.
Mr. Sperry pushed his glasses back up when she did not respond. “There you are.”
In the back of her mind, Lydia was well aware that she was still in a hurry. Jones was certain to be furious with her. She needed to conclude this interview and be on her way. But she could not bring any words to her mouth.
“Miss Faraday? Are you well?”
She nodded with a jerk. “Yes. Well... I... Thirty-thousand pounds?” Her words sounded more like the croak of an ailing grandmother.
Mr. Sperry nodded, smiling. “Your grandfather, Mr. Warthen, was quite successful in his business.”
Lydia blinked rapidly, trying to place each of her thoughts. “But I cannot marry?”
Mr. Sperry nodded. “Yes, your grandfather was rather particular in that. For a time, he wanted to insist you not marrya man with a title, but near his death, he wrote to me to change that.” The man shrugged, gathering up the papers.
Lydia was nodding. This changed everything. This was... It was incredible. “And then I obtain the inheritance? But why can I not marry?”
“To own the truth, Miss Faraday, I haven’t the slightest notion. But this is not my first strange request. Usually they center around someone’s personal beliefs. It would seem Mr. Warthen did not particularly like marriage, at least until the age of twenty-five. He also, clearly, did not like lords.” The man’s smile was crooked, and his eyes twinkled with amusement.
