Page 31 of Let Me Be Your Hero
“I would appreciate that,” Archibald said.
Lady Morsley ushered Mr. Branton over to the writing desk in the corner and set him up with paper and quill. Archibald rubbed his chin. He didn’t really know much about how thesethings worked. His grandfather’s will called for Nettlethorpe Iron to go directly to him, skipping over his father.
In other words, Archibald would soon officially be one of the richest men in all of England.
“Let’s see, Izzie will need… pin money.” Archibald screwed up his face. How much pin money did one give one’s wife? He had no idea. “Would ten thousand a year suffice?”
“No,” Lord Thetford groaned in the same breath that his wife cried, “Yes!”
Archibald glanced around the room. “Is that not enough? If it’s not enough, how about—”
“It’s more than enough,” Mr. Branton reassured him. “In fact, it is rather excessive.”
“You’re making the rest of us lookextremelybad,” Thetford explained.
Across the room, Izzie was peering at him, confused. “Archibald, are… are you rich?”
He told her his annual income.
The duke scowled. “That’s more than I made last year!”
Archibald couldn’t help it. He smirked.
Lady Cheltenham massaged her brow. “Izzie, how is it possible you did not know that Mr. Nettlethorpe-Ogilvy is one of the wealthiest men in Europe?”
She shrugged a negligent shoulder. “I thought he was some sort of blacksmith.”
“Blacksmiths aren’t usually invited to balls, dear,” Lady Thetford noted.
Izzie tilted her head as if this was occurring to her for the first time. “Oh! I suppose that’s true.”
Her mother cast her eyes toward the elaborate plasterwork scrolls adorning the ceiling. “I have long suspected that you do not listen to a word I say. This confirms it.”
Although Lady Cheltenham was shaking her head in despair, Archibald felt a warm glow in the center of his chest.
He had always expected that some young lady would marry him for his money, in spite of despising everything else about him.
But Izzie wasn’t even aware that hehada fortune.
He didn’t pretend that she was marrying him because she likedhim. But she did like the way he kissed her and the pleasure he’d given her a few moments ago.
That was a far cry better than being married for his money.
And, considering he would get to have the young lady he would have chosen above all others as his bride, the situation was more than satisfactory.
Morsley clamped one of his huge hands on Archibald’s shoulder. “Branton also drew up my marriage contract with Anne, so he’ll have a copy on file. Why not follow our provisions on pin money and what not? You know I will have been extremely generous as far as that is concerned.”
Archibald knew Morsley to be head over heels in love with his wife. “That’s a good suggestion.” He turned back to Mr. Branton and listed off a handful of properties and assets to be transferred into Izzie’s name should anything happen to him.
“… and Trelystan Castle,” he concluded.
“You own acastle?” Izzie asked, looking adorably befuddled.
“Hmm? Oh, yes. Three of them, actually.” He stroked his chin, considering. “Of the three, I think you would like Trelystan the best. It’s a Welsh castle, like the one in your book. It’s been fully restored and is quite comfortable, but it’s”—he waved a hand, searching for the right word— “atmospheric.” He ducked his chin, realizing that everyone was staring at him. Rubbing the back of his head, he added, “Perhaps, when it’s safe, we could go there for a bridal trip.”
This was the first time Archibald had seen Izzie rendered speechless. Mr. Branton scratched out a few final notes. “Perfect. I’ll have something finished by the end of the day.”
“Thank you.” Archibald crossed the room to stand before Izzie. She rose from the sofa, and he took her hand.
