Page 17 of Fortune Favors the Viscount
A gap-toothed grin flashed across her face for a moment before she assumed a more reserved expression. She was small for her age; Nick would have guessed she was seven or eight, but Miss Greene had said she was nearly ten. She was pale and thin, with a dull red birthmark on her left cheek. Her light brown hair was neatly combed and braided, and her large brown eyes shone at him with interest.
“May I present Miss Lucinda Sidney,” said Miss Greene. “Lucy, this is Mr. Dashwood.”
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” said Nick gravely.
“Welcome, sir.” The girl gave him a very proper nod and pulled out a chair. Miss Greene followed suit, and with a small start Nick realized they meant for him to take the chair at the table’s head.
He cleared his throat. “How kind to invite me to take breakfast with you. I’ve brought a contribution.” He set his basket of pastries on the table.
“How thoughtful! Thank you, sir. Let me fetch a plate.” Miss Greene was out the door before he could stop her.
“What did you bring?” asked Lucinda softly. Her wide eyes hadn’t strayed from the basket on the table.
“Tarts with strawberry jam.”
She inhaled so loudly, he thought she must be trying to inhale them. “Thank you, sir,thankyou.”
Miss Greene whisked back in with a chipped platter in hand. “Here we are,” she said breathlessly, laying aside the cloth. Nick caught the brief blaze of pleasure in her face as she set the tarts on the plate. “What a fine breakfast we shall have today!”
Grimly Nick took his seat. He’d known they were in straitened circumstances, and now he was faced with the evidence: the sparsely set table, the mended tablecloth, no servants, the small, dark house. Miss Greene poured them both coffee, but from the way she breathed in the aroma from her own cup, he suspected the coffee was for his benefit, a luxury in a household without many of them.
But it was hunger in the little girl’s eyes, and he didn’t like that. It reminded him too much of Charlotte’s face when he’d finally found her.
He expected Miss Greene to defer the serious conversation until later, when Lucinda was out of the room, but he was wrong. Within minutes, she brought up that very topic.
“I’ve gathered all the documents in the drawing room,” she said. “There are quite a few. I hope you’ve the whole morning free.”
Free, if he didn’t need sleep. Nick felt strangely alert at the moment, but knew it would fade. “I don’t intend to query every word of them, Miss Greene. If I’m satisfied with my initial review, I’ll send them to my solicitor to investigate.”
Her spine stiffened. “I’ve not agreed to that!”
Nick just sipped his coffee and watched her.
She flushed and lowered her gaze. “Naturally, I understand you will want a solicitor’s opinion.”
“Our proof is un—unpeachable, isn’t it, Millie?” piped up Lucinda. She was eating her tart in tiny bites and had scarlet jam on her chin. “Miss Greene,” she quickly corrected.
Millie. Emilia. He rolled the name around in his mind, liking it too much.
“Of course it is.” All pique vanished from her voice as she smiled at the child. “You know how carefully we gathered it.”
Lucinda’s smile was wide with relief. “Of course it is,” she echoed quietly. She gave Nick a little nod that again put him in mind of Charlotte as a girl, which unsettled him. He did not want to see his sister in this child.
“How do you like London?” he asked, striving for a neutral topic.
Her gaze darted anxiously to Miss Greene. “Tolerably, sir.”
“Oh? Do you prefer the country?”
This time her glance at Miss Greene was almost frightened. “Not much,” she whispered.
“Have you lived here all your life, Mr. Dashwood?” broke in Miss Greene, determinedly pleasant.
Nick’s lip curled. “No. I thought you would know that.”
“Another few days and I might have discovered it,” was her smart reply. “We have only discovered your origins thus far.”
And not even the full truth about those, thanks be to God, Nick thought. “Have you,” he said mildly.
