Page 11 of No Match for Love (Regency Love Stories)

Starting down the street, Lydia expected Jones would follow.

She needed a few moments to herself to collect her emotions.

Which was ridiculous. Increasingly, Lord Berkeley seemed to set her heart tip-tapping, which would not do.

He showed no interest in her, and she was still not even certain she wanted to marry.

What was she thinking? The man had simply been in the right—or wrong—place on a handful of occasions and been kind to her.

And she was forming an attachment or even the idea of one in her mind?

That was the sort of far-fetched daydreaming that Eliza, the sheep farmer’s daughter, would indulge in, not Lydia.

Still, if she had to marry, perhaps the good Lord would see fit to send her a wealthy husband who was even half as attractive as the broad-shouldered Lord Berkeley. Certainly that was not too much to ask?

She glanced up the street, trying to find Mr. Sperry’s office.

After learning that Lord Tarrington had sequestered himself away for some reason or another, she had managed to convince Jones that they ought to go into town.

Now their errand was concluded, and if she did not find the solicitor soon, she’d be forced to find another way to meet with him.

Her eyes bounded down the road, taking in several signs and passersby.

They passed over a solicitor’s office, then stopped and darted back. The sign read, “Mr. Sperry. Solicitor.”

Success brought a smile to her face and warmth to her stomach. She’d found him.

She decided what to do in half a second. “Jones, will you take my gloves and tell the carriage to meet us at that hat shop there? I wish to look at that bonnet in the window but would hate to delay our trip too much longer.”

Jones looked to where Lydia was pointing, at a shop beside the solicitor’s office. She sighed heavily then nodded, evidently having reached her end of willingness to fight with Lydia that day. “I will meet you there in but a moment.”

“Thank you, Jones.” Lydia smiled solicitously... then made not for the hat shop, but the office beside it. With a glance over her shoulder, she slipped inside, a little bell tinkling above the door to announce her arrival.

With the exception of several dust particles floating in the rays of sunshine piercing the room and several stacks of books and papers that concealed the top of a desk, the room was empty, but a door at the back opened almost immediately.

A bespeckled man with a slight build and graying hair appeared in the doorway, cleaning his glasses with a cloth. “I apologize for the wait. How may I help you?”

Lydia clasped her hands before her, wasting no time. “My name is Lydia Faraday, sir. I may be wrong, but I believe you wished to speak with me?”

He placed his glasses back on his nose then his eyebrows rose above them in surprise. He stepped aside and gestured to his office. “Miss Faraday! Yes, certainly. Yes, yes, please do come in. I admit, I did not think I would see you. Lord Tarrington changed his mind then?”

She walked past him into the small office beyond, and he closed the door, scuttling around the edge of the room to sit behind his desk.

The man’s personal office was not as untidy as the front room, though there were nearly as many stacks of books and papers.

These ones just did not seem as if they would fall over with a slight breeze.

“Not exactly,” she said.

Mr. Sperry adjusted his glasses as he peered at her. “Well, whatever the circumstance, I am happy for the opportunity. I was instructed to wait until you were in London to approach you.”

“Oh?” She glanced over her shoulder. Every moment was precious with Jones only minutes behind her.

He nodded, shuffling through several papers until he found what he was looking for, a black portfolio that he pulled open. “Yes, indeed. When I heard you had settled here with Lord Tarrington, I assumed my luck had turned and I could finally relay my information.”

Lydia nodded as if she were following the conversation entirely and not at all confused.

Mr. Sperry brought a page from the portfolio, glancing at it before setting it in front of her. “This is from your grandfather.”

Her eyes skittered down the page then back to the solicitor. “I did not know my grandfather.”

Mr. Sperry nodded. “Yes, his original letters indicated as much.” He gestured at the paper. Hesitating, Lydia finally began to read.

Little Lydee,

You have likely forgotten me by this point in your life, but rest assured that in all of mine, I did not forget my little granddaughter.

I would have been involved more in your childhood if I’d been able, but business took me to India and required me to stay.

By the time word reached me of your mother’s death and I was able to tie up my affairs and return to England, you had long since been taken to live with your guardian, and I was unallowed to visit.

The physicians tell me I will die soon and that it is time to settle my estate. I will forever regret not being able to be in your life longer, but I hope that the gift I leave for you will make up for my absence. I make only one request. Do not make the same mistake as your mother in marriage.

All my love,

Grandfather

Lydia stared at the short missive, turning it over, then, finding nothing on the back, turning it to the front again.

That was all, but it felt like so very much.

It was a letter written by the hand of a blood relative.

His handwriting slanted heavily to the right.

Hers did that as well; could it have been a family trait?

She swallowed back a surge of unfamiliar emotion and looked up at Mr. Sperry inquisitively. “I do not understand. He is dead?”

Mr. Sperry gave her a kind, nearly pitying look. “Yes. Some years ago.”

Her heart dropped, her hands closing tighter on the letter. “Why have I not heard from him before now?”

Mr. Sperry cleared his throat, searching through the portfolio for something else. “I was not privy to the details, but I believe he was forbidden by your guardian. They... did not see eye to eye.”

Lydia glanced back down the paper. “And he speaks of my mother making a mistake? In marriage?”

“Ah, yes, his stipulation.”

Lydia’s brows furrowed.

Mr. Sperry pulled out another paper, pushing his glasses down his nose to peer at it. “Here it is.” He cleared his throat again. “To my granddaughter, Lydia Margaret Faraday, I leave the entirety of my fortune, at current, thirty-thousand pounds.”

Lydia could not contain the gasp that fell from her mouth, but Mr. Sperry continued undeterred, “On the condition of her reaching her twenty-fifth birthday unwed.” He cleared his throat.

Her entire body felt as if it were filled with both heat and cold at once. This could not be real.

Mr. Sperry pushed his glasses back up when she did not respond. “There you are.”

In the back of her mind, Lydia was well aware that she was still in a hurry. Jones was certain to be furious with her. She needed to conclude this interview and be on her way. But she could not bring any words to her mouth.

“Miss Faraday? Are you well?”

She nodded with a jerk. “Yes. Well... I... Thirty-thousand pounds?” Her words sounded more like the croak of an ailing grandmother.

Mr. Sperry nodded, smiling. “Your grandfather, Mr. Warthen, was quite successful in his business.”

Lydia blinked rapidly, trying to place each of her thoughts. “But I cannot marry?”

Mr. Sperry nodded. “Yes, your grandfather was rather particular in that. For a time, he wanted to insist you not marry a man with a title, but near his death, he wrote to me to change that.” The man shrugged, gathering up the papers.

Lydia was nodding. This changed everything. This was... It was incredible. “And then I obtain the inheritance? But why can I not marry?”

“To own the truth, Miss Faraday, I haven’t the slightest notion.

But this is not my first strange request. Usually they center around someone’s personal beliefs.

It would seem Mr. Warthen did not particularly like marriage, at least until the age of twenty-five.

He also, clearly, did not like lords.” The man’s smile was crooked, and his eyes twinkled with amusement.

Lydia laughed at that. Her insides seemed to be bubbling with this new information. She felt very nearly giddy. This was the end of her needing to rely on someone else. She could survive on her own with this sort of inheritance.

She could not marry, but if she could put Lord Tarrington off for just two years... In just two years, she would be free. What was two years when she’d spent nearly the last eighteen under someone else’s governance? It was incredible. Unbelievable.

Her head jerked up. “Did you know any more of my family?”

The clock in the corner of the room suddenly chimed the hour.

She pushed from her chair, Mr. Sperry scrambling to follow.

She had to go before Jones found her to be missing.

After all, she was not quite an heiress yet and could not anger Lord Tarrington and his staff by going missing on a shopping trip.

“Thank you, Mr. Sperry. You’ve given me a great deal to think on.

Can I—Might I meet with you again soon? When I have more time to spare.

” She needed to know everything, needed to see the official documents.

Learn more about her grandfather. Find out how she would receive the inheritance when the time came and what she would do in the meantime.

So many questions. Her parents. Would the solicitor know about them?

Her father might have been a lord, if that was why her grandfather did not want Lydia to marry one.

The solicitor gathered up his papers, returning them to the portfolio. “Certainly you may. Come by anytime.”

“I will.” She was backing toward the door. “I will come soon. Thank you, Mr. Sperry. Thank you very much.”

She pushed into the front room, peering out the window to see that Jones was, even now, at the edge of the street, peering into the road in the opposite direction.

Wasting no time, Lydia slipped through the front door, hardly giving the bell time to ring, and ran to the front of the hat shop.

She had no wish to share the news she’d just received.

She wanted to be entirely sure that it was true and correct before she did anything, and that meant keeping it a secret.

Slowing her breathing, Lydia made to appear as if she was coming out of the store. “Oh, Jones, there you are.”

The middle-aged woman turned about, hand grasping at her chest. “Miss! Where have you been?”

Lydia gestured behind her. “In the hat shop, of course.”

Jones looked over Lydia’s shoulder, confusion creasing her brow. “I searched for you there and did not see you.”

“I do apologize, you must have missed me. I have been in the back, by that beautiful feathered hat, all this time.”

“Gracious, girl, you gave me a fright. But we must be going now. We have been gone far longer than intended.”

Lydia ducked her head in acquiescence, trying to restrain her grin. “Certainly, Jones. Lead the way.”

As her maid turned toward their carriage, Lydia glanced one last time at the solicitor’s office behind them. Warmth bloomed through her chest, and repressed energy made her fingers shake. This afternoon had changed everything.