“Then we should all sit,” Lady Cassandra announced, waving her hands as if to indicate they should all sort themselves out.
Blackwood claimed a spot on the settee. Her ladyship took the chair next to him. Mr. Dickson took the chair as far away from Lady Cassandra as possible. And James sat on the second settee opposite Blackwood.
Lucy waited until all of them had chosen a spot and took the cushion beside Blackwood. James was disappointed but not surprised by her choice. He probably would have advised it, especially since her aunt watched her closely, following Lucy’s every movement as she poured tea into five cups and offered one to each of them after determining who wanted lemon or sugar or cream.
The minutes that passed while Lucy engaged in the rituals of dispensing tea seemed to give the room itself and everyone in it a chance to breathe. The tension eased.
James allowed himself a deep breath.
Lady Cassandra took a sip, closed her eyes as if savoring the brew, and then set her cup on a side table before fixing her attention on James once more.
“It seems we have bad decision-making in common, Lord Rossbury.” She drew the shawl she wore more tightly around her and turned in her chair to face him directly. “I thought the worst choice I’d ever made was to involve myself with Rufus Pembroke. He had charm enough to deceive me into thinking he was a good man, but that facade fell away quickly. Quite simply, I wanted stability at any cost.” She stabbed a finger in the air. “Though not marriage. Never again.”
Blackwood grumbled something indiscernible at that pronouncement.
“But every time I have remonstrated with myself and hated my own choices, I’ve taken solace in this.”She swept her arms in an arc as if to encompass the room, the house. “I expected him to rip Invermere away from me when I no longer welcomed his interest.” She lifted her shoulders, widened her eyes. “But he didn’t. At one time, he’d called it a gift, of course. When he wished to woo me. But then I simply didn’t hear from him.”
“Or ye ignored his correspondence,” Mr. Blackwood put in.
Lady Cassandra narrowed one eye at him but softened it with a half smile. “He did not evict me. No one came to put me out. So I began to feel comfortable here. As if I had a home.”
“We could purchase the house—” Blackwood put in quickly.
“We’ve already had that conversation, Angus.” For the first time since sitting, Lady Cassandra settled fully into her chair, her hands resting on the arms like a monarch on a throne. “For me to purchase, I would need time to secure the funds. A loan.” She turned her gaze toward the hallway, as if she could see the paintings there. “I could offer you a down payment, and if I put up some of my artwork as collateral, I believe Lady Grimshaw, a friend and a partner in her father’s bank, will lend me the rest.”
James considered her offer. This was exactly what he hoped. Thatshecould buy the manor herself, but the timing sounded vague. “I cannot wait long for the funds, Lady Cassandra.”
“Then I will advance—” Blackwood pushed his bulk forward on the settee as if he’d stand.
“No, Angus,” she snapped. “I’ve told you no. Respect me in this, please.”
“Stubbornest woman born,” Blackwood roared before getting to his feet and storming from the room.
The lady didn’t even blink. “Obviously I haven’t had time to speak to Lady Grimshaw, but I suspect I could have full payment for you by the end of the month.”
“My lady—”
In his periphery, Lucy shot to her feet. “You can’t even know if you’ll find another buyer by that time. The end of the month seems very reasonable.”
“Ifshe can secure a loan,” James said to her quietly.
Lucy sucked in a breath, dropped back onto the settee, clasped her hands, and then pressed them into her lap.
Maybe he was being a fool again. Perhaps he could persuade Beck to wait another couple of weeks. The man had waited this long, hadn’t he?
“How much?” Lucy asked, her focus fixed on the surveyor. “How much is the house worth, Mr. Dickson?”
“Oh.” The middle-aged man seemed shocked that he’d been given a reason to speak. “Yes, er, I haven’t quite... I mean to say that I have not as yet had a chance to make all of my notations or produce a final report as would usually be my wont—”
“A rough estimate, man,” Lady Cassandra snapped, her anger barely in check. “You’ve been crawling about the place for over an hour.”
“Uh, yes, your ladyship, and I do appreciate you allowing me to do so.”
“How much, Mr. Dickson?”
“My valuation will list the manor and its nearly sixteen acres, if the documents I’ve been provided are correct, as being of a market value of twelve thousand pounds.”
Lady Cassandra’s eyes went wide.
