For the Love of Lila Read Free Page A

the section that concerns the trust he left me. The pertinent reference begins in the third paragraph. I am here because I should like to close that trust, and I need to know how to proceed.”
    He scanned the document. The provisions were fairly standard, except for the trust’s being rather large and invested exceedingly well. A holding like this would best be retained as long as possible, though Miss Covington seemed to have other plans.
    “I see that your uncle is named trustee,” he said, reading on. “He easily could have told you how to proceed.”
    He heard her clear her throat, but she made no reply.
    “I presume you don’t have immediate plans to marry, or your betrothed would be handling this.”
    This time she sniffed. “No, I do not have plans to marry.”
    A hard note in her tone made him look up. Bitterness? No, he read something else in the set of her jaw—determination.
    She fixed her eyes on his. “How soon can I receive my money?”
    He folded his hands on the desk. If she indeed took after her father, perhaps he could appeal to her sense of logic.
    “I don’t recommend closing the trust,” he said, watching her face. “Your father had a talent for investment. You won’t get a better return elsewhere.”
    “Profit is not always of primary consideration, Mr. Wyndam.” Her gaze didn’t waver, demonstrating a scrutiny that further convinced him she shared her father’s learning capacity.
    Pity his head for business had bypassed her.
    “What is your primary consideration?” he asked. She likely had no assets beyond the trust. If she meant to expend the money or reinvest it poorly, she could end up with nothing.
    “I’m sure you’ll understand if I choose not to share any personal information.”
    He did not understand, but he kept the thought to himself.
    He looked back down to the document, not yet ready to rest his case. Surely, an intelligent woman would not want to undermine her entire worth. “Perhaps you might withdraw only the sum you require at the moment. Indeed, I urge you to leave the majority of the principle intact.”
    “I shall require all of the money, Mr. Wyndam.”
    His gaze darted back to her face, and for an instant he saw her fine black brows tilt upward. Another second, and her countenance went stoic, but he suspected she had more doubts than she would admit.
    He searched her eyes for a hint to her motives. Why did she need so much money? Not for something frivolous, he felt certain. Might her uncle be in financial distress? If so, he did not like her giving up her security for a man who ought to tend to his own finances. With no money of her own, she would have to live as a poor relation forever, perhaps even be obliged to earn her keep elsewhere.
    “Your father intended this money for your dowry.” He turned the will around to face her and pointed to a sentence in the center. “Pray read what he stipulates here.”
    She didn’t bother looking down. “Mr. Wyndam, I am well versed with the contents of the will. Had I married in the two years since my father’s death, the money would have served as my dowry. But at five-and-twenty I become entitled to do what I please with it. Well, today I am five-and-twenty, and I am pleased to collect my inheritance.”
    He turned the paper back around and stared at the words, though he, too, knew what they said. Damn, he hated to see her make such a poor decision. He always seemed to feel the cases he took on too personally—an unfortunate tendency in a barrister.
    “Happy birthday,” he mumbled, stalling while he decided what to say next.
    “Thank you, sir. I intend to enjoy it well.”
    Another minute passed while he pretended to study the document, trying to persuade himself to allow the chit her foolishness. But she was Sir Francis’ daughter. The man had spent countless hours reviewing Tristan’s theses and contributing his own vital insights. Besides, he could not quite erase the vulnerability he’d glimpsed in