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wouldn’t put it past her. “I don’t know. At first I assumed the arrangements, along with the guardianship, was common knowledge. But when I approached your mother, she went up in flames. I thought she had informed you. It appears she didn’t.”
    “Is that why she hates you? What a loathsome thing. How fast did you wish for us to vacate the property?”
    Actually, Mrs. Grange hated him for another matter altogether, but he was not going to mention her scandalous assumption. Ever. “I didn’t ask her to leave. You will never have to leave. I came to formalize a lease that didn’t exist until I had one written. I don’t need the income from Thistlemore. But you do.”
    Pixie slipped from his grip. “I don’t understand.”
    Jack glanced at his empty hands. “Neither did I, at the time. Your father was never offered a lease for the property, and through his excessive gambling he deprived you and your mother of a comfortable future. When I discovered the extent of my father’s involvement in your situation, I made arrangements to see you never went without, and that both you and your mother could remain as tenants of the property. You cannot be evicted should anything happened to me.”
    When Pixie bowed her head, Jack raised his hand to where his skin still tingled. Her head snapped up, eyes widening with shock.
    She stumbled into a chair and dropped her head to her hands. “They never said a word to me. How could they not tell me this?”
    He didn’t have an answer. All he could do was help her make the best of a bad situation. She must be as deeply shocked by the news as he had been.
    Jack grabbed up the bottle of whiskey and poured her a small amount. The amber liquid swirled around the bottom of the glass as he stepped toward her. He dropped to his haunches, offering the glass.
    She stared at his hand but took the drink. When she tipped the contents down her throat too quickly, she spluttered, and he pounded on her back until she stopped. He let his hand rest on Pixie’s shoulder, sure she was still very much affected.
    She spun out of the chair and away from him. “I want to see proof that you are not lying to me.”
    Jack sighed. “Of course. You shall have it directly.”

    ~ * ~

    A thick wad of parchment burrowed its way beneath Constance’s door and wiggled at her in greeting. She slipped off the chaise and crossed to the documents, afraid they could savage her.
    Yet when she had them safely in her hands, she hesitated to open them.
    These would either prove the marquess a liar, or condemn her to debtor’s prison.
    The parchment crackled as she settled near the bracket of candles. Lifting the first sheet, she scanned the note from the marquess. He apologized, but requested the return of the documents for safekeeping on the morrow. If she desired authentication, he would make them available when she needed them.
    The marquess’ fair-mindedness unnerved her.
    The first paper was the lease agreement for the Granges to remain at Thistlemore indefinitely. She read the terms in astonishment. The marquess was not charging rent, and any income remained in their possession. Constance swallowed over his generosity and set it aside.
    The last paper was yellowed with age and handling. Inside was a promissory note from her father to the late marquess, detailing the extent of the Thistlemore estate and the furnishings contained therein. Constance swallowed over the horror at seeing her home listed, including the very bed she slept on. Her father had gambled away everything.
    Constance turned the page and read the figure this surrender of her family holdings had repaid. Seventy thousand pounds more than covered the value of the property. She didn’t believe it was worth nearly that much even now. The late marquess had been cheated. She had always thought him a wise man, but this was folly. Why had he paid so much for a property that had seen better days before her father had the management of it?
    She peered