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“I’m guessing he didn’t tell his granddaughter about the agreement,” Liam said.

“Worse than that,” Niall growled. He’d never seen Lucy at the house with Cam. “She’s working,” Cam had said. “She loves the work, but making sure it continues to succeed is her way of honouring her gran and me.”

Lucy’s accusation of him taking advantage of Cam had flicked Niall on the raw. A tip of the whip blow, fast and lethal, landing where all his doubts resided. Paying his way in kind, if not in cash, was one of the few choices a poor man had for keeping his self-respect.

“What’s worse than keeping an agreement that materially affected her a secret?” Liam pointed to the jug of juice.

Niall nodded. “A will.” Until today, he’d hoped, despite the imbalance in their bank accounts, he and Cam had met as equals. “She says he’s left me a second year rent free in his will.”

Liam whistled.

“She wants to hang, draw, and quarter me.” Niall pictured Lucy at his kitchen table, stroking the damned wood, completely oblivious she was stroking a Quinn creation. Her delicate touch had made his artist’s soul yearn and his body ache. “She used the wordsfraud,taking advantage,theft,manipulatingandwhisht.”

“‘Whisht.’ That’s quite some insult.” Liam paused, the jug raised above a glass, to slant him a sideways look.

“I got the sense she was swallowing the obscenities she’d like to use. Very polite is our Ms. McTavish. On some levels.” And appealingly fierce.

“Being polite and suspicious isn’t enough to break a will. From what you’ve told me of Cam’s business, the initial rental agreement was neatly calculated not to break any tax laws, not to imply any ongoing obligations, and wouldn’t dent his wealth.” Liam filled both glasses. “McTavish was sound in mind, and I’m guessing he was scrupulous in ensuring his last wishes were water tight.”

“She suggested I took advantage of diminished responsibility at the end,” Niall said the ugly words, presenting this latest sign of his insensitivity to his brother.

“For the love of ...” Liam thrust the tumbler of juice into his hand. “Why didn’t you fight back?”

“How do you know I didn’t?” Niall took a seat and braced for the pep talk.

“Because she rattled you enough for you to break your holy rule of spending Sunday on your work for the exhibition. Tell me more about her?”

“She’s an orphan. Lived with Cam and his wife since childhood, absorbed antiques and preservation through her pores.” Niall met his brother’s astute gaze across the table. “She’s grieving. You know what that’s like. People who are grieving don’t always act in their own best interests. And sometimes they need a reason to get up in the morning.”

“If that’s a dig at me, my only regret for not telling you about Dad’s debts sooner was because it led to us being estranged for a while. Then I look at the design you sent Kate for a cradle, and I can’t regret your time in Ireland. Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

“I love you too.” The words came easily. “Lucy sees McTavish’s as a sacred duty. Focusing on it is keeping her grounded while she mourns.” Niall closed his eyes, but the image of Lucy sitting in his kitchen refused to budge. “Hell, she dresses like every corporate board member in Sydney wrangling balance sheets into obedient subtractions and additions. You can’t distinguish one from the other, but you know they operate in some parallel world.”

“So, you wouldn’t be able to pick her in a police line-up?” Liam made the family joke about separating identical twins.

“She’d be the one staring back with a mixture of defiance and fear.” Niall hadn’t known until now he’d picked up her fear.

“You’re worried about her.”

“I get the sense she’s lost, maybe drowning in expectations she’s placed on herself. Cam wanted her to be happy.” Niall frowned, trying to work out why he was unsettled about a pampered young woman who wouldn’t thank him for asking if she was afraid.

“Apart from this bequest to you, is she the only beneficiary?”

“He told me she was all he had.” Imagining her alone worried Niall as well. Two young women, roughly Lucy’s age, had stayed close during the funeral. One had a man in tow. Lucy had seemed isolated even with their support. Most mourners were business colleagues, a few old friends—based on Lucy’s eulogy. She’d made her short speech count. Had held herself erect and listed all of Cam’s good qualities—like generosity.

So why the feck is she so convinced I’m a trickster?

“Did he tell her anything about you?”

“Not enough for her to give me the benefit of the doubt.”

A problem it would have been easy for Cam to fix.

Niall swallowed a mouthful of the fresh juice, its acid sitting uneasily on his empty stomach. “Keeping the extent of our relationship a secret from Lucy doesn’t make sense.”

Keeping me from meeting Lucy until after he died made even less.

“What makes you so sure he did?”