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“Everyone knows who you are, Robinsworth.”
“Quite so,” Ashley agreed. He sat back heavily in his chair. “And you are?”
“Marcus Thorne, Your Grace.” At what must have been Ashley’s blank look, the man continued. “Sophia’s brother.”
Ashley narrowed his gaze. “When did you arrive?”
“Late last night. I had some matters to catch up on at home before I could join the festivities.”
“Late last night…” Ashley repeated.
“Very late.” He speared Ashley with a glance. “Late enough to catch my sister returning to her chambers in nothing more than a nightrail and your dressing gown.”
If his teeth pressed more tightly together, Ashley feared he would break his jaw. “I see,” he said.
The man jumped to his feet. “Do you see? Do you really?”
“I believe I do.” Ashley sighed heavily. “What would satisfy you in this situation?” The only thing that would satisfy Ashley would be to marry her. But he didn’t want to seem too eager.
“Did you defile her?” Mr. Thorne asked from between gritted teeth.
“You’ll have to define the word ‘defile,’ I’m afraid.” Ashley leaned his elbows on the desk to regard the man closely.
“Did you take liberties with my sister?”
“Again, it’s all about perspective,” Ashley equivocated. Ask me the right question. Will I marry her? Yes!
The man put his palms of his hands on Ashley’s desk and regarded him closely. “What are your feelings for my sister?”
“Now we get to the meat of the matter. You have finally asked the right question.” Ashley tried his best to set his pride aside. And his past. And concentrate only on his future. “I’m quite fond of Sophia,” he said hesitantly. He hated the way his head tied his tongue in knots.
“Why was she in your chambers in her nightrail?”
Ashley thought about that for a moment. “I’m not completely certain. One moment, I was playing the piano, and the next, there she was.”
“Oh, dear God,” the man groaned, lowering his head into his hands. “Music,” he spat. “I should have known.” He raised his head, remorse in his gaze. “Shall I assume that you sent her back to her own chambers with haste?”
“You could assume that.” Mr. Thorne relaxed with a heavy sigh. “But you would be wrong.”
Sophia’s brother’s head shot up. “Beg your pardon.”
“I kept her there in my chambers for as long as I could.”
Mr. Thorne turned a little green around the mouth. “What happened?”
“Nothing untoward,” Ashley admitted. A few harmless kisses. A few harmless kisses that had rocked his very being. “What matters is that I’m prepared to make it right.” He looked directly into his eyes. “I’d like to offer for your sister. I can make a rather generous settlement upon you, if you have need of it.”
“I think it’s me who’s supposed to offer the dowry,” Mr. Thorne said, his mouth opening and closing, as though he had words to say but couldn’t formulate them.
“I’ve never stood by society’s restrictions,” Ashley admitted. “I’m willing to pay handsomely for her.”
“I’ll not sell my sister.” Mr. Thorne heaved a disgusted sigh. Ashley had to give him credit. Many men of undetermined origins would have jumped on the opportunity to get their hands on a wealthy duke’s fortune. Even a small portion of it. “Is she still innocent?” Mr. Thorne looked pained by the question.
“She is,” Ashley said as he inclined his head.
“I’ll be able to tell,” the man muttered.
“Appearances can be deceiving,” Ashley returned.
