“I’m sure I’ve no idea what you’re talking about!” Lady Morley raised a hand to her chest, the other patting her forehead. She should’ve been an actress. “You must be mistaken. You have no inheritance. You’ve a dowry, of course, but it was useless.”
Andrew heard the breath heave out of his lungs. He sucked in air between his clenched teeth. It seemed an unnecessarily cruel reminder to them both, that there were foolish men who wouldn’t even be paid to marry Della. It was a reminder that all those years ago, he’d have married her in a heartbeat even if neither of them had a pound to their name. He’d consider it the honor of his life even now.
“We are talking about Kinloss,” Della said. Her face had gone blank, taking the lack of emotion she was exhibiting one step further.
Her mother gasped again. This one was stunningly real. He couldn’t tell exactly what those feelings were flashing across her face.Shock, or disbelief, maybe, but he knew they were true.
“Perhaps we should wait for the viscount,” Andrew suggested. He still didn’t like the thought of airing out their grievances in the middle of the hall for all of Mayfair to walk by and observe. Not to mention the exhaustive household roaming about. Besides, Della needed a chair. It wasn’t good for her to stand for so long, and he couldn’t stand looking at her rigid posture any longer. He couldn’t make this hurt her heart any less, but he could at least make the process easier on her body.
“Very well,” Lady Morley said. She gestured to the drawing room they used for guests and led them there. Andrew watched as she walked past him, looking for any slight break in her confidence. She was like bone china, he thought. It would only take a crack in the veneer to shatter the entire piece. She whispered harshly toned words to the footman at the door, and he swiftly disappeared. Andrew felt Della tense up as she watched them interact. He knew she couldn’t stand the way her mother treated others, but it was as if seeing it in the flesh caused her physical pain. He hoped not. Of that, she had plenty already.
Lady Morley delicately arranged herself on a low settee near the corner of the room. It was upholstered in an ugly striped fabric, as if it were almost intentionally made to look overdone. Andrew sat on one end of the sofa. His body wouldn’t relax, and he stayed perched on the edge, his back still far from resting against the equally ugly upholstery. Della sat next to him. Closer than she needed to, given the size of the sofa. Her hand hovered near his on the cushion, and seeing her pinky so close to his own made the damask pattern beneath it so much more palatable. This wasn’t a competition, but already, he felt like he’d won.
“The viscount is on a ride.” Lady Morley looked at each of them. She looked between them. Andrew had always thought that odd, how those with titles referred to each other so formally. He knew it was the way things were done, but it had always felt so cold. “David is withhim. They should be back soon, but I’ve sent a servant to fetch him.”
There was disdain in her voice as she addressed them, but Andrew caught the way she fidgeted. She was wringing her hands, running her fingers over each other. He saw it for what it was. A crack. He could almost hear it, the sound of her splintering, then shattering entirely. That imaginary sound filled him with strength. It straightened his spine and his resolve.
“You know,” Lady Morley looked down at the hands she now had clasped in her lap, “it is good to see you, my dear.” Her gaze had recovered that manipulative veneer, and Andrew hated to see it.
“It is good to see you too, Mother,” Della parroted the appropriate words back to her, but her gaze was a startlingly blank canvas.
He’d always seen her as so emotive, her face so full of life that it spilled over, but it seemed his Della had a veneer of her own.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Della feared shewas about to break. All the pained words Andrew had said that afternoon swam through her mind in nauseating waves. It was too much for her to process at once. Violently closing off her thoughts and emotions was the only thing she knew to do. That door was shut and locked and barricaded, but it was that one lie that threatened to break it down entirely.
It’s good to see you too, Mother.It was a simple expression, the smallest of falsehoods when her life had somehow become a mountain of them. It wasn’t the lie that hurt so much as the truth. It wasn’t good to see her mother, or to be home for the first time in years. Della almost wished the lies were the crux of her problems. Unfortunately, that was reality.
She prepared to say something, anything that would drown out the overwhelming silence that had befallen them, but she heard the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut. Heavy footsteps making their way toward the room. A shout that she knew had to have been directed at a footman or the butler, the tone was so lacking in respect.
“What the devil is going on here?” she heard him say, just before the door was opened for him. “Adelaide.” His voice was a whisper of shock. “It really is you. I thought there must be some misunderstanding.”
She’d never wanted to roll her eyes so desperately in her entire life. Was the idea so unbelievable? That she’d endured a simple carriage ride back to her family’s main residence? It seemed a rather mundane thing to do. Not the sort of thing that inspired such fervent reactions.
“Hello, Father.” Della remembered at that moment that many young women her age still called their fathers something more affectionate, likepapa. She wondered if she’d ever called him anything like that. If she had, she couldn’t recall, and that broke up the hurt in her soul with shards of deep sadness. It was another blow to the door holding back a flood of feelings.
“Is someone going to answer me?” the viscount bellowed. “What are you doing here?” He looked at Della and Andrew both, seeking the explanation he believed he so rightfully deserved. This was all going so badly, Della suddenly didn’t want to give him one. She wanted to turn and run. This effort didn’t feel worth it anymore.
“We are here about Kinloss,” Andrew repeated. Della was always intensely grateful for him, but something about this moment made that gladness grow exponentially. “About Della’s inheritance.”
Della watched her mother as Andrew spoke. She had neither the nerve nor the decency to show any manner of guilt or regret. Della was willing to bet she wouldn’t even recognize those particular emotions if she felt them.
“How do you even know about that?” Her father addressed Andrew only, increasing Della’s indignant anger just that much more. He didn’t try for denial as her mother had, and she could at least respect that.
“That is unimportant,” Andrew started again. It seemed this was a conversation only for the men in the room. Ironic, since the property in question was passed down from one woman to the next. “We’ve come here as a warning. Quite frankly, we’ve come here out of a respect you don’t deserve.”
Everyone flinched at that, even Della. It was true, but that didn’tmake it any less devastating.
“We know that Kinloss rightfully belongs to Della. You have been mismanaging her estate as her guardians for years, and we know it’s your intention to continue doing so by threatening the livelihoods of her household.”
Andrew very plainly laid out the facts, and Della watched as her parents displayed starkly different reactions. Her father was livid, his face turning a shade of red she didn’t think she’d ever seen before. Her mother cowered away, turning in on herself and shielding her eyes as if she could avoid the scene displayed in front of her. Della didn’t wait to see anything like shame. She knew she never would.
“There is no way you—” her father began to spout. The anger was palpable in his voice, and he was spitting each word he spoke. “I am her guardian, and the estate has been entrusted to me. I have run it as I see fit.”
“You’ve nearly run it into the ground. There is plenty of evidence,” Andrew interrupted. “Ledgers my father kept from as far back as fifteen years ago, showing your large, unexplained withdrawals from accounts belonging to the estate. I suspect your estate agent is as crooked as you are, overcharging and neglecting the tenants you are supposed to serve.”
Della looked to him. He seemed as calm as she hoped she appeared. She could see the strain, though, because she knew him so well. The hand next to hers on the sofa was tensed and a vein pulsed at his temple. The sharp line of his jaw seemed lethal.
