Perhaps she’d been wrong about herself, too.
Thankfully, the route to the entrance hall proved clear. It seemed Hilda and Harry were still abed. She finger-combed the top of her hair using a spotty old wall mirror with a rusted-out frame, then paced the entrance hall while she waited for Ford and thought about her new life—the wonderful new life the two of them would have together, here at Lakefield.
The life that could begin tomorrow—if she could somehow persuade Mum to forego the extravagant wedding. Which was an enormous if.
But even if she had to wait several weeks or months—and even apart from her profound feelings for Ford himself—she was excited by the prospect of moving to Lakefield House. She felt a growing kinship with the queer old manor. She supposed in some ways the place reminded her of her eccentric family—a little disregarded, a little misunderstood. She couldn’t wait to help restore it to its former glory.
She expected her dowry would cover the immediate renovations. That ought to leave more of his funds available to improve the estate, which in turn would allow it to run more profitably. She was anxious to go over Ford’s plans. Since she wouldn’t be publishing her book for many years, she planned to suggest they use her inheritance to accelerate the improvements. The investment would surely come back to her long before she needed it.
Now that she knew Ford wasn’t marrying her for her inheritance, she wouldn’t mind him making use of it. In fact, it made little sense to let all that money sit idle for years.
Her gaze went up the empty staircase. What was taking him so long? Wondering if the sun was over the horizon yet, she jerked open the front door.
A shocked face was on the other side. Violet screamed, and the young boy turned tail and began running.
“Wait!” she called.
He stopped and pivoted back. “I have a letter, madam.” Rather cautiously, he approached the door, holding forth a rectangle of sealed parchment. “Will you give this to the lord?”
“Of course. Let me just…wait.” Below the mirror, she’d noticed a bowl of coins sitting on a marble table that needed a serious buffing. Dashing inside to retrieve a coin, she pressed it into the boy’s hand on her return. “Thank you.”
He touched his cap and took off.
She slowly closed the door, turning the letter in her hands. It looked long and very official. There was no return address, but she hoped…could it be from Daniel Quare, the watchmaker?
Her heart pounded at the thought.
She sent a furtive glance up the stairs before slipping her fingernail under the seal.
My dearest Lord Lakefield, she read. It is my sad duty to inform you that I have received a foreclosure notice on your estate.
Her blood seemed to freeze in her veins as her eyes skimmed down the letter.
…you have thirty days…
…mortgage in arrears…
…tenants may face eviction…
The parchment fluttered to the floor, her heart sinking along with it.
“You’ve dropped something.”
Startled, she whirled around to see Ford reaching the bottom stair. He approached and knelt to retrieve the fallen letter. “What’s this?”
“A letter—” Her voice came out hoarse. She cleared her throat. “A letter for you.”
Frowning, Ford turned the sheet over. She watched his expressions change as he read the first few lines. Surprise. Anger. Horror. Finally raising his eyes to her, he opened his mouth.
But she jumped in first. “You lied to me.”
He looked genuinely confused—but then, she already knew he had a talent for pretending. “What did I lie about?”
“I believe the term you used was ‘not dire.’ In reference to your estate—the estate you’re apparently about to lose.”
“I didn’t know!“
She gave a dry, brittle laugh. “How stupid do you think I am? You met with your solicitor less than a week ago, yet you expect me to believe he didn’t mention any of this?”
“I swear to you, I didn’t realize—”
“Save your breath.” She sucked in her own breath as another realization hit her. “This is why you were so insistent about marrying quickly, isn’t it? You knew you’d need my money soon. Or you meant to secure my vows before I caught wind of the truth. Or both.”
What will happen if we don’t marry today? she’d asked him.
Nothing will happen…
Another lie.
Your tenants may face eviction.
With this letter, the last puzzle pieces fell into place. She’d believed it was logically impossible for Ford to be both a well-meaning person and a selfish liar. And she’d been right. But if he was in fact a selfless liar…if he sought her fortune for the purpose of saving his tenants from eviction, rather than merely enriching himself…
Well, that wasn’t a contradiction at all. It was perfectly in line with his character.
And what’s more, it was a better explanation than Ford loving her, since it also left that one troublesome premise intact. She’d been right there, too: a man as handsome and brilliant and good as Ford Chase—and despite her pain and fury, she still thought him good at heart, for his deception was meant to serve the good of others—could never love someone like Violet.
“I knew it was too good to be true,” she whispered, her soul splintering into a thousand pieces.
She whirled to leave, but he seized her arm. “Violet, stop. I…I know this looks bad. But I swear to you, on everything there is to swear on, that I love you. I love you. Isn’t that all that really matters? Please—whatever else you may think of me, whatever lies you think I’ve told—at least say you still believe my feelings are real. If you believe that, I know everything else can be fixed.” Incredibly, his eyes brimmed with unshed tears.
He’d missed his calling with science; he belonged on the stage.
“I let you fool me once,” she said, wrenching her arm from his grip. Finally she
