Page 11 of Three Weeks with a Princess
Both Jack and her grandmother were now staring at her with stunned expressions.
“What?” she said. “Your mother obviously wants to transform Bluebell Cottage back into the dower house, which means we’d best be out of here as soon as possible.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Jack replied through clenched teeth. “Bluebell Cottage is your home for as long as you want it.”
She noticed he didn’t deny that his mother wanted Bluebell. Not that Lady John would ever think to live here while Jack was still a bachelor. No, she would reside at Stonefell as lady of the manor for as long as she could. Evicting them from the cottage was about ridding the estate of theirnoxious presence, as Lia had once inadvertently overheard her say. Lady John loathed Granny and would see this as her chance to finally get rid of her.
Her ladyship didn’t exactly approve of Lia either. In fact, Lady John had always deplored her son’s friendship with both the first and third generations of the Notorious Kincaids and probably even saw Lia as a threat to Jack’s moral rectitude.
It was a ridiculous notion. First, Jack would never besmirch any woman’s good name—not that Lia’s family name covered her in glory. Second, and perhaps more germane, Jack would be more likely to succumb to gales of hilarity at the idea of any sort of intimate relationship with her. In fact, she’d wager the thought had never crossed his mind.
Shewas the one who was hopelessly infatuated, not Jack. And she didn’t expect that to change any time soon.
“Thank you, dear boy,” Granny said in a grateful tone. “I know we shall always be able to depend on your generosity.”
“Just as we know we can’t take advantage of it forever,” Lia interjected with a warning glance at her grandmother. She and Granny had talked about this, trying to plan for the worst. And it seemed as if the worst was finally upon them.
“You are not taking advantage,” Jack said firmly. “I count you both as family and always will.”
Lia managed a smile. “That’s kind of you Jack, but—”
“But what does it actually mean?” The hard, clean angles of his face took on a cynical cast. “You might well ask.”
“Then I am asking,” she said. Granny was clearly too disturbed to handle the tricky negotiations that seemed about to occur. That was up to Lia. “Naturally, my grandmother had been hoping for some kind of annuity from your uncle, or an inheritance that would give us a measure of independence. It’s been weeks now and we’ve heard nothing about it from the estate’s lawyer, or from you.”
“Not that we wished to press you,” Granny hastily added. “We both know you’ve been so busy trying to settle things. It’s completely understandable that you haven’t had a chance to speak with us.”
Lia crossed her arms over her chest. “Not that we’ve actually had the chance to speak with you about it because this is the first time you’ve been back to Stonefell since Lord Lendale’s funeral.”
Jack’s dark brows snapped together in a bit of a glower, but Lia didn’t care. She and Granny had more or less been confined to the cottage during that awful week when the family descended for the funeral. Even though they’d spent more time with the marquess than anyone, and even though she and Granny had truly been his family, they’d been exiled from all official activities. Jack had stopped by a few times but was too harassed to pay them much attention. Then he’d disappeared for over two months, although at least he’d written them during his absence.
Still, it had felt perilously close to neglect. That had stung—probably more than it should, if she had half a brain in her head.
“Well, I’m here now,” he said. “And I promise we’ll get everything sorted out.”
“Is there an annuity, after all?” Granny asked.
When Jack hesitated, Lia knew what he would say. “No, Gran, I don’t think so.”
“Lia is unfortunately correct,” Jack said in a regretful tone. “My uncle did not leave an annuity for you, Aunt Rebecca. I’m so sorry.”
“But he left mesomething, did he not?” Granny asked in a hopeful voice. “Enough to set us up in a small house in the village, perhaps?”
Jack looked as if he’d accidentally ingested something toxic. “I’m afraid not.”
Lia flinched. She’d been preparing for the worst but had assumed they’d get some sort of small bequest—something to tide them over until she could think how to support them longer term. Granny’s lover had been a marquess, for heaven’s sake. Even though the estate was in poor financial health, surely he’d had other income to draw upon.
“And no dowry for me either, I’m sure,” she said, trying not to sound bitter.
Or terrified, even though that emotion lurked just below the surface. But without some sort of bequest to serve as a dowry, Lia had no hope of attracting a respectable suitor. Not that she’d been dangling for one, but she knew Granny had been pinning her hopes on that. After all, his lordship had promised years ago that he’d give Lia enough funds to overcome the stigma of her birth.
Now that hope was dying an ignominious death. Without anything from the estate, they would be almost entirely dependent on Jack for support.
“No, I’m sorry to say.” He sounded almost as bitter as Lia felt. “He left Aunt Rebecca some personal items and bequeathed a few things to you—mostly books and some prints from his library that you were fond of.”
Lia did a quick mental calculation. If they were the items she suspected, the results were not encouraging.
“Goodness,” said Granny in a faint voice. “That is discouraging news, I must say.”
