Page 14 of Three Weeks with a Princess
To her surprise, Granny wasn’t looking downcast at all. Resigned, yes, but also . . . calculating?
“What?” Lia asked.
Her grandmother’s lips parted in a dazzling smile, the one that had apparently been the downfall of many a hardened rake when she’d been in her prime. Lia recognized that smile. It signaled that Granny was about to engage in a bit of ruthless manipulation.
Heaving a sigh, she trudged back to her seat.
“You can moan all you want, child,” her grandmother said, “but it’s time to face facts and be practical about our situation.”
“I’ve been trying to do just that for weeks,” Lia replied. “But you didn’t want to hear any of my suggestions.”
“Yes, I must admit I allowed myself to hope Arthur had done a better job of things. How foolish.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry I failed you, Lia. You have always been my first responsibility. I let my affection for Arthur get in the way of that.”
“To be fair, he did support us all these years. Despite the odd hiccup now and again, we’ve been comfortable. And happy.”
Most of the time they had been, and how many people could claim that? She and Granny loved Stonefell, despite the occasional snub from one of the more persnickety locals, or the sense of exclusion they felt on the rare occasions when Lord Lendale’s family had visited.
And then there was Jack, of course. He’d made everything seem worthwhile, even the snubs, the exclusions, and the leaky roof.
“My love for Arthur turned me soft,” Granny said. “I believed him when he said he’d always take care of us. I would not have made that mistake when I was younger. I should have asked for more as we went along, and insisted he make some kind of provision for you in writing.”
This sort of discussion always made Lia feel squeamish. But such arrangements were a simple fact of life for women like her mother and grandmother. She’d been spared that life and counted herself exceedingly fortunate in that respect.
“You, of course,” her grandmother continued, “will do better than I did. You have an excellent head for business, and I don’t think you’ll ever let a man take advantage of you. That will give you a sound basis for negotiations.”
Lia had cupped her chin in her hands, but her grandmother’s words had her bolting upright. “What are you talking about, Gran?”
Her grandmother folded her hands neatly in her lap and stared her straight in the eye. “When you look for a protector, you will negotiate a clear and detailed agreement for your ongoing support in writing. I’ll help you with that.”
“My protector?” Lia’s voice sounded rather screechy. “Do you mean a . . .”
“A lover? Don’t be a ninny, dear. Of course that’s what I mean.”
Aghast, Lia stared at her grandmother, who seemed in dead earnest. “But . . . but you always wanted me to find a respectable suitor,” she stammered. “To get married.”
For a moment a hollow, grieving look threw up ghosts in her grandmother’s deep blue eyes. But then her gaze shuttered and her chin firmed. “Of course I did, but we know that’s no longer possible. Without a dowry, no respectable man will offer for you.”
“Well . . . I don’t think that’s entirely true.” Lia felt quite certain the cheesemonger’s son would take her, even over his family’s objections, and then there was—
“Jimmy Lanstead?” her grandmother asked.
Lia nodded.
“Certainly not. No granddaughter of mine will marry a pig farmer,” Granny said in a haughty voice. “Especially one who rents his farm. We may be courtesans and actresses, my dear, but we are also Kincaids. We do have a standard to keep.”
Her grandmother could be an awful snob, but Lia couldn’t hold back a rush of relief. She had no desire to marry Jimmy Lanstead or anyone else.
Except Jack.
She firmly pushed that idea to the deepest recesses of her mind. It belonged in the dusty bin of broken dreams.
“I agree with you about Jimmy,” Lia said, “but trying to set me up as a courtesan is rather drastic. I’m not you or Mama. I’m not a patch on either of you.”
“Nonsense. You’ve grown into a stunning young woman. With a little help from me and some financial support, you could very well take London by storm.”
There were so many things wrong with that plan that Lia didn’t know where to start. “I have another idea, Gran, and I’m convinced it’s the best one we could possibly come up with.”
Her grandmother had been reaching to replenish her teacup, but her hand halted in midair. “I’m listening.”
