He wasn’t accustomed to being in the same room with something even more repulsive than his own appearance. Her gown was an eye-stabbing monstrosity of pearls, lace, brilliants, and beads. Not by her beauty-though he supposed she might be beautiful. A folio of papers tumbled from a nearby shelf, drifting to the floor like snowflakes.

He reeled backward and collided with the wall, nearly falling off his chair. “By all means, show her in.”Ī young woman in white strode into the room. He dropped his pen and propped one boot on the desk, reclining into the shadows. “Well, that’s uncanny.” Perhaps his solicitors weren’t as useless as he thought. He looked down at the words he’d just written.

She’s wearing a wedding gown.”Īsh looked at the butler. “Your Grace, I regret the interruption, but there’s a young woman to see you. He supposed he ought to state his requirements: a woman of childbearing age and respectable lineage, in urgent need of money, willing to share a bed with a scarred horror of a man. But much as he dreaded it, it must be done. He couldn’t believe he was actually going to commit the words to paper. And there’s one other thing that requires immediate attention.Īsh hesitated, quill poised in midair. Tell the architect I wish to see the plans for the new mill, and I wish to see them yesterday. Sack the Yorkshire land steward directly. I don’t know what the devil you’ve been doing for the past year, but the state of my affairs is deplorable. He dipped his quill and continued the letter to his feckless solicitors. Whoever it was, Khan would send them away. He didn’t have the time or patience for busybodies. He’d forgotten how London rumors traveled faster than bullets. He hadn’t even been in Town but a few weeks. There could be no further hesitation, no turning back.įrom his library desk, Ashbury heard an unfamiliar ringing sound. She closed her ears to the frantic pounding of her heart. With a whimper, she turned away from the gate and circled the square for the tenth time, shaking out her bare arms under her cloak.Įmma stopped her pacing, faced the gate, and drew a deep breath. I may not even have a home tomorrow if you don’t let me in. I’m here to see the mysterious, reclusive Duke of Ashbury. All she had to do was square her shoulders, charge through the wrought-iron gates, march up those granite steps-really, there were only a hundred or so-and ring the bell on that immense, richly carved door. Now, six years later, she’d swallow every needle in Madame Bissette’s dressmaking shop before she’d go crawling back to her father.Ĭompared to all that, what was knocking on the door of a duke? She’d found work and made a new life for herself in Town. She’d refused to succumb to despair or starvation. Once, she’d walked to London alone in the bitter heart of winter. Ashbury House loomed before her, taking up one full side of the fashionable Mayfair square.

The duchess deal series