But you know damn well her father left the decision over who marries the girl to her mother. I turned down an offer for her hand this week from Briscott, who’s such a simpleton that I didn’t feel I need tell her mother. Not unless you’re going downstairs to make eyes at that girl. In that case, I will bid you good day, James said, keeping his tone even. James came by his temper naturally: he had inherited it directly from his irascible, reckless father. The duke stared back at his only son, his long, aquiline nose quivering with anger. Exactly how did the estate come to be in such precarious straits? If you don’t mind my asking. One of his resolutions was to master his temper before turning twenty-and that birthday was a mere three weeks away. James took a deep breath before answering. "Don’t you dare speak to me in that tone!" A terrible feeling of dread was spreading through his limbs.Īshbrook pivoted. What have you done? James spat the words. We need her fortune to repair the Staffordshire estate and pay a few debts, or we’re going to lose it all, this town house included. His father turned and walked toward the far wall of the library, acting as if he’d said nothing particularly out of the ordinary. James Ryburn, Earl of Islay, and heir to the Duchy of Ashbrook, opened his mouth to say something, but a mixture of fury and disbelief choked the words. I don’t care if you think of her as a sister: from now on, she’s the Golden Fleece to you." The London residence of the Duke of Ashbrook
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