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“On one condition,” he amended.
Her face contorted slightly. “Which is?” she said from between gritted teeth.
“I’m closing the town house effective immediately. You’ll be moving back to the Hall.”
She jumped to her feet. “I will do no such thing,” she gasped.
He continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “I will reconcile your debts. Every last one of them. Then you will cease gambling with money you do not have. You may use your pin money any way you see fit.”
“But there’s not enough,” she protested.
Still, he continued. “You will spend nothing more than your pin money. You will move back to the Hall. You will assist me with my daughter.”
“Anne hates me.”
Anne hated everyone. “You will assist me with your granddaughter. She could use a feminine presence. You will behave respectably and set a good example for her.”
“You need a wife,” she snapped. “It’s unfortunate that no one of respectable breeding will have you.”
Oh, his mother knew how to throw the barbs that would hurt the most. “Then I am free from the wife search, it seems, since no respectable woman would pay me her favors.” He leveled her with a glare. Though Miss Thorne had graced him with a smile and no fear in her eyes.
“It took years for me to get over your past deeds. To find my way back into society. You have no idea how arduous the task was.” He couldn’t gather sympathy for her, despite the look of anguish in her eyes. “If I move back to the Hall, I will once again be cast beneath your dark cloud of suspicion.”
“Do you think I killed my wife, Mother?” he clipped out.
“Of course not,” she rushed on.
“Then I would assume a mother who finds no fault with her son will be quite content to return to the family estate.”
“My friends won’t know what to think.”
“Quite frankly, Mother, I don’t give a damn what they think,” he drawled. “I’ll have Wilkins begin the preparations to move your household.”
“And just when do you think this will take place?”
“As soon as I bellow down the hallway,” Ashley replied. Wilkins would take great pride in ruffling the duchess’s feathers.
“That man hates me,” she grunted. “When I’m in residence, I’ll expect him to treat me as befits my station.”
“He’ll treat you as well as you treat him, Mother.”
“I’d prefer being dropped into a vat of hot oil over being nice to that man.” She jumped to her feet and headed for the door.
“I’m certain that can be arranged,” Ashley called to her retreating back.
From The Magic of “I Do”
Autumn 1817
A faerie without magic was about as useless as a carriage without a horse. If Claire Thorne had known that this would be her reward for trying to save her sister from the dangerous Duke of Robinsworth, she never would have gotten involved in her sister’s mission. She would have stayed at home. The land of the fae was so much more comfortable than the land where others resided.
Claire refused to look at her abductor. She refused to acknowledge his presence, although he did have her magic dust. It was in his pocket at that very moment. Despite the fact that she’d warned him it could explode in untrained hands, he’d taken it with no hint of hesitation. And now he refused to give it back. Claire lifted her chin and stared out the coach window. If anyone had told her a sennight ago that Lord Phineas would take her hostage, she would have laughed in his face. Yet here she was, at his mercy.
“Oh, blissful silence,” he said. He must have said it to himself, because he certainly couldn’t be talking to her.
“You really should return my dust to me before it does you harm.” She didn’t look at him as she talked. She continued to stare at the changing landscape. They’d left behind the bustle of Mayfair and were headed toward… nowhere, it appeared.
“And just what kind of harm might a little bottle of shimmer do to me?” He looked much too composed.
