stay in Askern for an additional fortnight to await her return, so I fear I must relay my message to you instead.”
“Message?” Lucy’s mind was still far away, recalling memories of a firm handshake, kind words, and the promise that her family could live in the dower house as long as they pleased.
“As the new Earl of Drayson, I have been looking into and making necessary changes to some of my family’s holdings. There is no easy way to say this, but I must inform you that the Tanglewood Estate is to be sold as soon as possible.”
The words “Tanglewood Estate” and “sold” effectively jerked Lucy’s thoughts to the present. “I beg your pardon?” she said. “You plan to sell Tanglewood?”
He fiddled with his hat, not meeting her gaze. “It will be listed as soon as you and your mother can make arrangements to live elsewhere. I am hopeful that two months should give you enough time.”
Lucy’s breath caught. Other arrangements? Two months? “But this is our home, my lord. How can you—”
“Forgive me,” he said gently, “but I believe it is my home.”
“No.” Lucy was determined to make him understand. “This is your house . It is our home.”
His dark and mysterious eyes finally lifted to meet hers. Though his tone remained gentle, it was also firm. “But you do not own this so-called home, do you?”
If Lucy’s face reddened, it was not because she was mortified at being taken to task. It was because her veins began to pulse with both fear and anger. Lord Drayson made it sound so easy. Make other arrangements, as though penning a quick note and sending it off to a close relative would do the trick. But the few relations the Beresfords had left were no better off then they, and Lucy and her mother would never sink to asking for help from those who could not afford to give.
Which left what alternative?
Already, Lucy’s mother mended clothing for a pittance, and Lucy, an adept gardener, sold her prized roses during the warmer months for a pittance more. It was the only way to keep Georgina, the horses, and food on the table. Without this house, the meager earnings the Beresfords brought in would barely cover the rent of another, far lesser home. How would they ever manage?
Apparently the new Earl of Drayson was in every way the opposite of his father—both in looks and disposition—for he did not seem to care that in two month’s time a widow and her daughter would be without a home.
Lucy lowered her pride enough to plead, “Your father gave us his word that we could live in this house indefinitely.”
“My father never mentioned you or your mother to me, and from what I understand, you have signed no contract.”
“No,” Lucy reluctantly agreed, feeling her spirits whither by the second. “It never occurred to us to ask for a contract. A gentleman’s words seemed more than sufficient at the time.”
“And yet that particular gentleman is no longer among the living.”
Lucy’s eyes sprang to his. How could he be so unfeeling? His father had been wonderful, and even his mother was said to be all that was good and kind. “So you will not honor the promise of your father even though you claim to be a man of your word?”
“It was his promise, not mine.”
“I see,” said Lucy, though the only thing she really saw was a despicable man who cared more about his purse than a person.
Lord Drayson sighed. “Surely you have noticed that Tanglewood Manor is going to ruin. It does not turn nearly the profits it would take to restore the house to the immaculate condition it ought to be. Yes, advances could be made to increase profits and make it lucrative once again, but why should I dedicate time or money to a property that my family no longer takes an interest in? This estate should have been sold when my family relocated to Danbury, but it wasn’t, and now I have been handed a property that will bring in much less than it is worth because of its current, worsening
“Message?” Lucy’s mind was still far away, recalling memories of a firm handshake, kind words, and the promise that her family could live in the dower house as long as they pleased.
“As the new Earl of Drayson, I have been looking into and making necessary changes to some of my family’s holdings. There is no easy way to say this, but I must inform you that the Tanglewood Estate is to be sold as soon as possible.”
The words “Tanglewood Estate” and “sold” effectively jerked Lucy’s thoughts to the present. “I beg your pardon?” she said. “You plan to sell Tanglewood?”
He fiddled with his hat, not meeting her gaze. “It will be listed as soon as you and your mother can make arrangements to live elsewhere. I am hopeful that two months should give you enough time.”
Lucy’s breath caught. Other arrangements? Two months? “But this is our home, my lord. How can you—”
“Forgive me,” he said gently, “but I believe it is my home.”
“No.” Lucy was determined to make him understand. “This is your house . It is our home.”
His dark and mysterious eyes finally lifted to meet hers. Though his tone remained gentle, it was also firm. “But you do not own this so-called home, do you?”
If Lucy’s face reddened, it was not because she was mortified at being taken to task. It was because her veins began to pulse with both fear and anger. Lord Drayson made it sound so easy. Make other arrangements, as though penning a quick note and sending it off to a close relative would do the trick. But the few relations the Beresfords had left were no better off then they, and Lucy and her mother would never sink to asking for help from those who could not afford to give.
Which left what alternative?
Already, Lucy’s mother mended clothing for a pittance, and Lucy, an adept gardener, sold her prized roses during the warmer months for a pittance more. It was the only way to keep Georgina, the horses, and food on the table. Without this house, the meager earnings the Beresfords brought in would barely cover the rent of another, far lesser home. How would they ever manage?
Apparently the new Earl of Drayson was in every way the opposite of his father—both in looks and disposition—for he did not seem to care that in two month’s time a widow and her daughter would be without a home.
Lucy lowered her pride enough to plead, “Your father gave us his word that we could live in this house indefinitely.”
“My father never mentioned you or your mother to me, and from what I understand, you have signed no contract.”
“No,” Lucy reluctantly agreed, feeling her spirits whither by the second. “It never occurred to us to ask for a contract. A gentleman’s words seemed more than sufficient at the time.”
“And yet that particular gentleman is no longer among the living.”
Lucy’s eyes sprang to his. How could he be so unfeeling? His father had been wonderful, and even his mother was said to be all that was good and kind. “So you will not honor the promise of your father even though you claim to be a man of your word?”
“It was his promise, not mine.”
“I see,” said Lucy, though the only thing she really saw was a despicable man who cared more about his purse than a person.
Lord Drayson sighed. “Surely you have noticed that Tanglewood Manor is going to ruin. It does not turn nearly the profits it would take to restore the house to the immaculate condition it ought to be. Yes, advances could be made to increase profits and make it lucrative once again, but why should I dedicate time or money to a property that my family no longer takes an interest in? This estate should have been sold when my family relocated to Danbury, but it wasn’t, and now I have been handed a property that will bring in much less than it is worth because of its current, worsening
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