“Sounds a bit like you.”
She brightened and then narrowed one eye. “I’m not sure if you meant it as such, but I will take that as a compliment,” she said with a pleased nod of her head.
James grinned and felt for a moment as if something inside him, something latched very tightly, was beginning to shake loose.
“So what does this Winterbottom woman have to do with helping me?”
Lucy straightened and faced him squarely. “She would say that a problem should be faced rather than avoided, and that the sooner one starts a difficult task, the sooner one can be done.”
James couldn’t argue with any of it. In fact, one of the older boys he’d befriended in his youth had a similar philosophy, though a bit less elegantly put.When you’re going through hell, keep going.
Apparently, this Winterbottom lady wasn’t all bad. But something in what Lucy had said unsettled him.
“I’m sorry to be the problem that landed on your aunt’s doorstep at the same moment you did.”
His apology seemed to irk her more than anything he’d yet said since walking into the room. Perhaps because it struck at the heart of the matter between them.
“Why did you land on her doorstep?” She folded her arms across her chest again, as if bracing herself for his answer.
He was ahead of her. He’d been preparing himself for this discussion since last night. And dreading it.
“I understand you inherited the earldom of my aunt’s...” Bright green eyes widened, she notched her chin up so subtly that he wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t aware of her every move. “Her lover.”
James scoffed, and Lucy’s brows winged up.
“Is that inaccurate?”
“No, just hard to believe.”
“That you inherited or that they were lovers?”
“The latter.”
“I assure you, Aunt Cassandra is the most beautiful—”
“Of that, I have no doubt. It’s only the notion that my uncle could catch the eye of such a lady.”
“You didn’t like him?”
“I barely knew him.” He turned away because the anger tightening his throat and making his heartbeat thrash had nothing to do with her. It was an old pain, and she needn’t know the details. “We were estranged.”
Bracing a hand on the frame of one of Invermere’s long windows, he stared out at the leaf-strewn drive. “I was told of his death the same moment I learned that he had no other heir. None of it was expected or sought.”
She approached, her boot heels a soft patter on the carpet. “May I ask when he died?”
When she drew up next to him, he could feel her studying his face. Perhaps she expected to see pain or grief there. Would she think him a coldhearted bastard for feeling none of it?
“Recently, but I can’t say I know the day. I learned of his passing four days ago when I met with his solicitor.”
She let out a little gasp, drawing his attention. “I wonder if my aunt knows. I can’t bear to think of her losing someone she cares for and her home at the same time.” Lucy laid a hand lightly on his sleeve. “Why must you sell it?”
They’d taken longer to come to the crux than Mrs. Fox had, but he loathed explaining this part to Lucy most of all.
“The funds from this sale. I need them desperately.”
Shockingly, she nodded as if she understood. “The Rossbury estate must be in disrepair. I suspect there’s a great deal to maintain. Papa is always speaking of the expense—”
“There is no estate, Lucy. Only debts and this manor.” His voice had edged up again, and he drew in a breath. “Also, a piece of jewelry for your aunt.”
