Page 7 of Married to the Earl

“How much will he want?” Astrid asked.

Her father named a sum. Astrid felt lightheaded. It was more money than she’d ever seen in one place in her life. She doubted her father had such a quantity, even with his various assets taken into consideration. They could sell everything they had and still not raise the funds.

Her father must have understood the look on her face. “I believe he’ll accept it in installments,” he said. “I just need to get enough together to make a payment, for now. To show good faith.”

“I’ll sell the jewelry, then,” Astrid said faintly. She would have sold everything she owned to get her father out of this mess. The trouble was that she hardly owned anything at all. Her mother’s jewelry was the only thing of value she possessed.

“Don’t do that just yet,” her father said.

“It’s no trouble,” Astrid said. “Truly. I can take it to market. I’m sure I’ll find a buyer there.” Her heart beat a little faster at the prospect of going to market. She had only been a few times in her life, and always with her father for company. To make the journey on her own would be exciting.

But Tobias was shaking his head. “You aren’t going to market,” he said firmly. “If the jewelry is to be sold, I will do the selling.”

Frustration boiled her blood. “I can manage perfectly well, Father.”

“I’m sure you can,” he said with a smile. “But the market is a dangerous place for a young girl. You can understand that, surely.”

“I’m not really a young girl,” she pointed out. “I’m a young woman.”

“The market is dangerous for them too.”

Astrid sighed.He’s never going to let me out of the house, she thought. It felt strange that she could still be bothered by that old complaint when something so much worse, so much more dramatic, had arisen to worry her, and yet shewasbothered. She wanted to keep her mother’s house, yes, and she wanted her father out of trouble. But she also craved freedom and adventure.

Perhaps Iwillgo to the market,she thought rebelliously.After all, Father leaves home for several hours every day to conduct business. Maybe tomorrow while he’s away, I’ll sneak out and sell the jewelry. He won’t like it, but I’ll be back before he ever knows what I’ve done.

But she wouldn’t do it. She knew she wouldn’t. Her father had enough to be worrying about right now without having to contend with an errant daughter sneaking out of the house.

He needs to know he can trust me. He needs me to be the one thing in his life he doesn’t have to worry about.

She could be that. She could do that for him. That would be far more valuable than any money she might get for her jewelry.

“Don’t worry, Father,” she said. “I won’t go to the market. I’ll give you my jewelry, and you can decide whether or not to try to sell it.”

“It still won’t fetch the price we need,” her father said.

“It will help, at least,” Astrid persisted.

Tobias allowed a smile to creep across his face. “Your mother would be very proud if she could see you today, Astrid,” he said. “She would be pleased to know what a comfort you’ve grown to be.”

That was what was most important to Astrid—the knowledge that she was a comfort to her father. She hated that he was going through what he was, but she would do whatever was necessary to make things easier for him.

“Everything will be all right,” she assured him. “Whatever the Baron does to us, whatever we have to give up, we’ll be all right. We’ll have each other, and that’s what really matters.”

“That’s very wise,” her father said.

“It doesn’t matter if we have to sell the house,” she said, even though it did. She couldn’t quite keep her voice from breaking as she said it. “It doesn’t matter where we live. We can find another place, someplace not quite as nice.”

But Tobias shook his head. “It won’t come to that,” he said, and there was a fierceness in his voice that Astrid had never seen before. “This was your mother’s house, Astrid. Whatever else happens, I won’t let us be forced out of it. I promise you that. No matter what I have to do, I will keep our home.”

Chapter 4

“Can I get you a drink while you work?” Conor asked.

Tobias Dawson hunched low over the books, spread out on one of The Arc’s empty tables. “That would be welcome,” he said.

“You must try the scotch,” Conor said, making his way behind the bar and searching for the bottle. “It’s really something.”

“Is it?” Dawson seemed not to be paying attention. Conor supposed he was distracting the man from his work by making conversation. He had looked over the books himself, several times, and knew all too well how difficult they were to understand.

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