The body standing before her slowly took shape, a tall man in a greatcoat that was deceiving of form; skinny, fat, it was hard to tell in one of those coats, not that it mattered. Larissa was merely trying to focus on something that might draw her out of the mire her mind was still in. Somewhat handsome, though that was hard to really discern when his cheeks and long nose were covered with snow. Not too young, perhaps nearing thirty . . .

“Miss?”

The question? Ah, was she all right? If she began to laugh hysterically, would he still wonder?

“No, I don’t believe so,” she said honestly, though she realized she’d just opened the door on further conversation that she didn’t want, so she added quickly, “If you’re here to see my father, he isn’t home.”

“I know.” At her frown, he continued, “I’m Vincent Everett, Baron Everett of Windsmoor.”

“Baron of— You’re the new owner?”

Incredible. Such gall, for him to show up after his devastating blow had already been delivered. Was he there to gloat, then? Or merely to make sure that they would comply with the eviction so he wouldn’t have to send round the magistrate to physically oust them? Which was going to be the case anyway. There was simply no way that she could get everything they owned out of the house by tomorrow, even if she had someplace to move to.

She supposed the furnishings could be stored at her father’s office on the docks. She and Thomas might even have been able to sleep there temporarily—if her brother weren’t so sick. But that office was drafty even in the summer. To subject Thomas to the cold that floated up from the Thames was unthinkable. Yet what other choice did she have? There was no money left for lodgings, no money left for food. She had put off selling their possessions, hoping with each day’s passing that that would be the day her father would return and make everything right again. But she’d put it off too long. Now there was no time left . . .

Her instinct was to close the door on the baron. He might own the house now, but she was still in possession of it—for one more day. But he hadn’t said why he was there yet. And just because her world was falling apart didn’t mean she had to abandon common courtesies. She could give him at least five more seconds to state his business, then she would close the door on him.

“Why are you here, Lord Everett?”

“My secretary was rather upset.”

“The man here before you?”

“Yes. And from what he said, I’m beginning to think a—misunderstanding may have occurred.”

“Misunderstanding? I have a letter of eviction. It’s quite clear, actually, and if it weren’t, your secretary read it aloud so I couldn’t possibly—misunderstand.”