This drew a real smile, quick and bright. “Will you stay?”
She cut a sliver of cheese and balanced it on the bread. “Of course. I did not come to slink back to town with a basket of regrets.”
“Some would call that prudent.”
“Some are cowards.” She ate and ticked items off on her fingers. “Staff. A proper cook. Garden repairs. The roof leaks. The west stairs are a hazard. And the library... do not laugh... requires order. I will make it work. I will bring it back to a state of glory.”
He did not laugh. “You mean to live here alone.”
“Being alone does not frighten me, Maximilian. It allows freedom in a world that tries to deny it.”
His eyes lifted and slid away. “You need not do it alone.”
She regarded him over her cup. “Do you volunteer, Your Grace?”
He opened his hands, unsure. “I do not know what I am to you.”
“Nor do I,” she said gently. She paused, then added, “Let us begin with breakfast. If that does not kill us, nothing will.”
They ate in silence. The bread was sour, the cheese sharp, and by Lydia’s third sip, the coffee tasted bitter. She drank anyway.
“So,” she asked, “what is next?”
“Inventory. You must establish your claim with the magistrate. There are lingering debts—small, but not invisible. And you need staff.”
“You found the accounting ledgers?"
"Early this morning in what must have been the steward's bedchamber," he said.
A flicker at the window drew her eye. A carriage pulled up the drive in unfamiliar livery.
Maximilian followed her gaze. “Expecting callers?”
“No.” Her hands stilled.
The bell groaned rather than rang. Maximilian rose, brisk but unhurried. Lydia stood with him, her pulse quickening.
Boots thudded in the entry—too many, too heavy. Then a voice, loud and unwelcome, echoed against the marble.
“Montague! Is there no one to receive a guest in this place?”
The sound jolted her. Lydia steadied herself against the table as the intruder strode into the room.
He smelled of horse and rain. Two men followed—silent, expressionless—there to fill space while Edmund spoke. His hair was slicked back, andstubble roughened his jaw. When his pale eyes found Lydia, they brightened with pleasure.
“Montague,” he said, without a bow.
She did not rise. Maximilian stood behind her, quiet and steady.
“Cousin,” she replied, with all due disgust.
Edmund’s mouth curled toward Maximilian. “Scandalously keeping house with the Duke, I see.”
Maximilian remained silent, his hands resting on the back of Lydia’s chair.
Edmund slapped a sheaf of papers onto the table, scattering crumbs. “I have the right of it. The estate, the house—promised to me by Lady Eugenia. Dress your lies as you like, but your time here is limited. You are a fraud and a thief.”
Lydia leaned back, folding her arms. “The codicil bears her hand and seal. The magistrate has seen it. She changed her mind about you, Edmund.”
