Stephenson examined his fingernails. “Your uncle used up all the time, I fear.”
“He was aware you held his vowels?”
“He was.”
Knowing that pleased me inordinately.
“As to the time you have…I’ve given you an additional fortnight’s grace due to the unfortunate circumstances of earlier this month, but…” He shrugged.
My pleasure vanished, and I sank down onto the settee, sitting upright so my back wouldn’t come into contact with it. It might be almost completely healed, but it was still tender to the touch. I removed my spectacles and dug my fingers into my eyes.
“There is no money,” I repeated. “Oh, a pony or two I can give you on account, and the harvest promises to be a good one, but…”
“Sell Fayerweather,” he suggested indifferently.
“I cannot.” I gave a harsh laugh. “Didn’t you kno
