Page 89 of Falling Into Bed with a Duke
Ashe wrinkled his brow. “Who?”
“This woman you love.”
He stared at the marquess. His eyes held knowledge, understanding. “I don’t love her, but there is a woman, yes. She’s sharp, clever, strong-minded. I need her dowry. I made rather a mess of my fortune.” He pressed his shoulder harder into the sharp edge of the casement. “I can’t make numbers work.”
“Neither could your father.”
Ashe straightened away from the window edge. “Pardon?”
Marsden chuckled low. “It was his secret. But he told me. Was fearful he wouldn’t be able to manage his estates. So he would bring me his books, and I would provide him with the answers. I forgot that. All the years you were here, I never thought to tell you. Never paid any attention to your studies. Damnation,” he whispered. “That’s why he selected me. To be your guardian. I knew his secret. He thought I would guide you. Instead, I failed you.”
“I wouldn’t say that. If anything, it was my pride, not letting on that I was struggling. Relying too much on my man of business, when I wasn’t completely open with him. I need to find someone I can trust to know everything.” If he could convince Minerva to putherpride aside, she would make an excellent person to manage his accounts.
Marsden waved a finger. “Locke, he’s your man.”
Ashe wasn’t convinced. Quite possibly what he needed was a woman.
THE horse’s hooves thundering beneath him, Ashe rode hell-bent for leather over the moors, with Locke riding along beside him, his gelding keeping pace. Being out here brought forth memories of running wild, of spending days doing whatever he pleased, never worrying about estates, income, salaries, upkeep, expenses. Numbers, figures, tallies.
“Enough!” Locke yelled, bringing his horse to a halt.
Ashe drew his up short, circled about, and guided the black back to where Locke waited on a white. Heaving, the beasts’ nostrils flared, created puffs of smoke in the early-morning gloom.
“Let’s walk for a bit, shall we?” Locke asked, dismounting before Ashe had even given his answer. Locke might be merely a viscount and younger than Ashe, but this was his home, and he’d always reigned here, knowing that one day he would be master of it all. There was something to be said for growing up on the ancestral estate. It created an immense sense of appreciation, of understanding one’s place and responsibilities. Those had come late to Ashe. Probably to Grey as well. And never to Edward, as second son.
Holding the reins, he fell into step beside Locke, their long strides stirring the fog that lay low over the moors. Locke didn’t harangue, it wasn’t his way. Still, Ashe knew he was waiting for Ashe to speak first.
“I moved into Ashebury Place,” he finally said.
“Put the ghosts to rest? That’s good.”
“It’s more that I couldn’t afford to pay the lease on the other place. Edward’s taken it over.” Reaching down, he plucked up a tall blade of grass for no other reason than it gave him a moment to collect his thoughts. “I’m in a bad way financially.”
“Hence the decision to marry Miss Minerva Dodger.”
Ashe gave a curt nod. “Unfortunately, she doesn’t fancy fortune hunters and is rather put out with me at the moment for failing to acknowledge—or at least reveal to her—my impoverished state. She refuses to marry me even though ...” He grabbed another sprig of grass.
“Even though?” Locke prodded.
“I compromised her.”
Locke stopped walking, grabbed his arm, and spun him around. “On purpose?”
Ashe glowered. “Well, I certainly didn’t accidentally fall into bed with her.”
Locke sighed with annoyance. “You know what I meant. Did you compromise her to force her into marriage?”
“No, I bedded her simply because I wanted to. I desired her as I have desired no other. Locke, she visited the Nightingale.”
The viscount’s green eyes widened, disbelief crossing his rugged features, but Ashe knew whatever was said here on the moors stayed on the moors. “Indeed?”
“That’s where she first came to my attention as desirable. She had decided to accept spinsterhood and thought she had nothing to lose. She quite charmed me.” He shook his head. “Charmed is too tame a word. She’s bold, courageous, goes after what she wants. She’s unlike any woman I’ve ever encountered. Why I failed to notice her before is beyond me. Why no man has taken her to wife simply demonstrates the foolhardiness of men. She is remarkable. So I began courting her through traditional means, within Society, at balls and such. She was agreeable to marrying me, and then she discovered I had no coins lining my coffers, and told me to go to the devil. My courtship was wasted.”
“I don’t see the dilemma,” Locke said and began striding forward again. “You simply need to begin courting a woman who doesn’t care that you want her for her dowry, one who is enamored of your title and good looks. Shouldn’t take overly long for you to snag another fish.”
“You’re right. I just need to find another dowry. It’s disappointing is all, after all the effort I put into the courtship and gaining her willingness.” And they were very good together in bed. He didn’t know if he’d ever been so well matched. He regretted that he wouldn’t have that. Or her smiles or her humility. “I’m not usually one to give up on a hunt, but I don’t know how I can make things right with her.”
“What if she had no dowry?” Locke asked.
