Page 86 of Falling Into Bed with a Duke
“Has something happened?” her mother asked.
“I misjudged Ashebury’s affections.”
“How far did you misjudge them?” her father asked, eyes narrowed. She knew his anger wasn’t directed at her.
“Far enough that he might think you will force me to marry him. But I will not, under any circumstances, marry him.”
Her father stood. “Difficult to marry a dead man.”
“Sit down, Father.”
He narrowed his eyes further.
“Please.”
He dropped down onto the sofa beside her mother, who placed her hand over his balled fist, resting on his thigh.
“I did something I ought not,” Minerva said, “which I will not elaborate on. I don’t regret it. I simply regret that I allowed my judgment to be impaired. I thought he wanted me, but as it turns out, he needs my dowry. I can see now that whenever I asked after his finances, he didn’t give me a direct answer. So I was a fool.”
“You weren’t a fool,” her mother said kindly. “He’s very charming. It’s understandable that you would like him and trust him. It’s also understandable that being raised as he was, he might not fully comprehend love.”
Minerva shook her head. “Don’t make excuses for his behavior. All of London makes excuses for the hellions. None of us has a perfect life. We make the best of it.”
“What’s not perfect in yours?” her father asked.
“No man loves me.”
“I love you.”
The air was getting worse. The damn tears were threatening. “I shall be content with that.”
“Taking out an advert seems a bit excessive,” her mother said.
“I don’t want any gentleman callers.”
“I shall inform the staff.”
“I especially don’t want to see Ashebury.”
“You won’t,” her father said.
“Neither do I want him dead.”
“Bruised?”
She couldn’t help it. She released a light laugh. “No, although I do believe I left him bruised.”
“Left hook?”
“No. A little trick Lovingdon taught me. He’d be proud. I would tell him about it, but then he’d threaten to kill Ashebury, and I can’t hold you both at bay.”
“Perhaps you and I should go on holiday somewhere,” her mother said.
“I have something else in mind. I’ll share once I’ve worked out the details. But rest assured, I’m not going to mope about here. I intend to take steps to ensure that I never again cross paths with Ashebury or any other fortune hunter.”
THE winds shrieking over the moors buffeted the coach as it turned onto the long drive leading to Havisham Hall. Ashe couldn’t claim to have a sense of going home, but he did experience a bit of bittersweet nostalgia at the gloominess settling in that would soon cloak the moors in moon-shadowed darkness. Profound sadness had visited him here, but he’d also known some of his happier moments.
The Marquess of Marsden had not been a particularly attentive guardian, but neither had he neglected his charges. He would join them at meals, telling them tales of his youth, ones that included Ashe’s father as well as the Earl of Greyling. Through Marsden, Ashe had been given insights into his father as he would have never envisioned him: a rabble-rouser, a student who struggled with his studies, a lad who enjoyed a good prank.
