“Listen to you, being kindhearted to the girl.”
“Pain in the arse,” Heathcliff retorted.
Lucas chuckled. “Where is the girl going to stay? Not in London.”
“No.” Heathcliff shook his head. “I’ll set her up in the county seat while the governess gives her some polish, then will bring her to London for a proper season, and pray the Good Lord gets her matched up real quick.”
Lucas arched a brow. “Never thought I’d see the day when you’d join the ranks of the matchmaking mamas of the ton.”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures, my friend.”
“Clearly,” Lucas replied.
After a moment of reflection, Heathcliff said, “So, what is your news, and if it’s more startling than mine, I may have to start drinking now and pray I get drunk rapidly.”
Lucas gave a little shake of his head. “Pour a glass, my friend. Your world is about to turn on its ear.”
“Not again.” Heathcliff groaned. “My heart can take only so much shock in a day’s span. What the hell did you do this time?”
“Would it shock you to hear that I may have a tendre for Lady Liliah Durary?”
“No. I’d say you’d been bloody denying it for a while though,” Heathcliff replied suspiciously.
“Well, then what if I told you I was finally taking my head from my arse and doing something about it?”
“Then I’d say it was about time for you to grow a pair of bollocks and be a man about it. Took you long enough.” Heathcliff shrugged. “What are you planning to do?”
Lucas grinned, then explained what Ramsey had shared earlier that morning concerning the current state of Greywick’s estate.
“You don’t say! The blackguard!” Heathcliff all but shouted. “I knew something was suspicious.”
“Very suspicious.”
“Ramsey didn’t give me that information, bastard.”
“I’m sure he was more than inclined to allow me the honors, based on your current fit of pique.”
“I’m not pitching a fit,” Heathcliff grumbled.
“Close enough, but back to the subject at hand. I have an idea as to how to address the situation, but I’m going to need some help digging around.”
Heathcliff sat up straight. “I love digging.”
“I know. Of the three of us, you’re the one who enjoys getting his hands dirty.” Lucas gave a low chuckle.
“What do you need to find out?” Heathcliff’s gaze narrowed, his expression one of intense concentration.
“Several things. First, I need tangible evidence of Greywick’s estate’s financial status.”
Heathcliff nodded once. “Done. Next.”
“I need to know if there’s any possible way Greywick would be aware of the truth of Catherine’s . . . situation,” Lucas added in a strained tone.
“Very good. Anything else?”
“I need to know if anyone else is involved, or if it’s simply a . . . transaction of sorts between Greywick and Chatterwood.”
“Understood. This will be a welcome distraction from all the irritation of making accommodations for the new ward. Good Lord, I need a drink.” Heathcliff stood and marched over to the decanter and poured a liberal splash, then raised it. “To us, may we survive the challenges we face!” He took a long drink.
