Chapter Eight
CHAPTER EIGHT
A sh read through the columns once more but it made no difference. No matter how many times he looked at them, he could not make the household’s outgoings less than their incomings. By his calculations, his family and he would not be able to maintain their current way of life beyond June. They would need to let staff go, sooner rather than later, and his heart burned as he tried to think who would have to go first. Even if he could get his mother to curb her spending, they would only manage to eke out a few more weeks after that. He sank his head into his hands so he could no longer see the damning numbers.
No matter how hard he tried to avoid the truth he knew there was only one way forward to get them through this current predicament. He would have to sell Easton Hall. That would take care of the servants who worked there. He could make it a stipulation of the sale that the new owners employed the same staff. It was the least he could do. He had the same obligation to the people who worked for his family as he had to the men he had led into battle; some of those he had not been able to protect. He would be damned if that were the case with his family’s loyal retainers. He would ensure they all had work and places to stay if it was the last thing he did.
Still, it would be a devastating blow to lose the place. The estate that had been in his family for generations, his sheltered sisters’ home, the halls of his childhood the ones he’d run down with Amelia, laughing until their sides hurt. Not that the last of those mattered. That was certainly never going to happen again. But…the thought of being the Ashworth who sold the family home was hard to bear. They weren’t landed gentry; Easton Hall hadn’t been passed down from generations of Ashworths, but it had belonged to his father’s father and Ash had always thought he would pass it down to his son. He snorted at that thought. He had to find a wife first for that to happen, and he’d yet to find someone he could imagine spending more than an afternoon with let alone the rest of his life. He closed his eyes as the image of Amelia in her dark blue dress of a few nights ago popped into his mind. She was doing that all the time now, appearing in his thoughts without his consent, reminding him of what he had lost and what he still wanted. He could not trust her with his heart again. He did not want to spend the rest of his life with her, either, no matter how many times his body seemed to suggest that he absolutely did. He was better than that, not a witless oaf who fell in love only to realise that the object of his affection did not return the sentiment.
He needed to focus on the problem at hand, the one he could actually do something about. He glanced down at the numbers in front of him; they hadn’t improved in the minutes that his mind had wandered. He balled the paper into his fist but smoothed it out again before he could throw it into the fire. Burning the numbers would not solve anything; it would not make the reality improve or the slow slide towards complete ruination any less true. Besides, he’d only have to write down the numbers again and that had been painful enough the first time.
A knock at the door had him lifting his head. ‘Enter.’
He let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding when the person stepping into his office turned out to be Ezra and not his mother. He wasn’t in the mood for yet another argument where he fought to make her see reason. She saw no need to stop her spending, despite how often he told her how desperate the situation was becoming. He was going to have to resort to stricter measures and it would devastate her, and he hated the idea of hurting her. But as yet, she was not seeing reason. Her answer, every time he tried to discuss their increasingly dire circumstances, was that he should find a wealthy bride, as if marrying someone would solve all their problems. But the more Ash investigated, the more he realised just how deep the problem ran. He would need a wealthy widow and a miracle. No. Not a widow. Widows didn’t come into it. He was not considering marriage to a widow, wealthy or otherwise.
He rubbed his eyes with his thumbs; he was incredibly exhausted. The nightmares were not going away; if anything, they were coming with increasing frequency, leaving him tired and irritable. And now Amelia appeared to be a permanent feature of them. She was always walking away from him straight into danger and no matter how fast he ran after her, he could never reach her. He’d wake, his hand outstretched as if he could just pluck her from an untimely end. Those dreams were bad but the others he had of her were just as torturous. In the others, she would be looking up at him, her eyes filled with adoration like they once had, and he knew that all he had to do was lean down and press his lips to hers and she would welcome him back. He always woke just before they connected, and those dreams left him as drained as his nightmares. He just wanted it all to stop.
Ezra strode into the room, his dark eyes full of happiness. ‘You look awful.’
Thank God he had his friends. He could rely on them always to tell the truth, none of society’s fancy, but ultimately empty, compliments from them. ‘Why, I thank you for your kind and gentle comment.’
Ezra’s lips twitched as his gaze flicked to the papers still in Ash’s hands. ‘Are you having any joy fixing your finances?’
‘No. I see no way out but to marry and yet…’
‘And yet, the thought of wedding for blunt is repellent,’ Ezra finished for him.
‘Indeed.’ Ash could talk and laugh with the women he met at the endless functions he was attending. He could even enjoy some of their company, but the idea of making an offer to them to have access to the wealth they would bring with them to the union was repugnant.
Ezra settled into a wingback chair, crossing his legs. ‘Have you considered Amelia Smythe? You were once devoted to her and the rumours of her wealth suggest that it is vast. Marriage to her seems like an obvious solution to your problems.’
‘I will never marry Amelia,’ he ground out. ‘Not if it was between marrying her and starving to death.’
Ezra’s eyes widened at his vehemence; even Ash was surprised by his tone. It was only that Ezra had given voice to some half-formed thoughts that had already occurred to him. Thoughts that he did not want to give any credence to because that way lay only pain and anguish.
Even if Amelia had given him the barest hint that she was interested in him courting her, he would not do it. The memories of their time together were sweet and joyful, and Amelia had crushed them when she had married someone else. He would never be the man who had loved her with all his heart. That man was a naive fool. If Ash ever found someone with whom he was willing to spend the rest of his life, he would not allow himself to love that person. Love was for the young and innocent, and Ash was no longer that person.
‘That part of my life is over. Even if I was interested in returning to that life, Amelia is not. She takes great lengths to avoid even talking to me at social events.’ That shouldn’t have hurt him; he shouldn’t care that the woman he vowed not to think about turned and walked in a different direction every time she caught sight of him, and yet his heart pinched when he noticed it happening. He was a goddamn fool and he needed to get thoughts of her out of his head.
‘You need a mistress,’ said Ezra.
Ash snorted. ‘Yes, that is exactly the solution. Add to my list of women to take care of by one more. Why didn’t I think of that?’
‘You’re extremely crabby.’ Ash raised an eyebrow. ‘I know that none of us are what we once were. God knows the years at war have changed us all, but you are particularly snappy, especially after an evening in which you see Amelia Smythe.’
‘Washbrook.’
‘I beg your pardon.’
‘She is Amelia Washbrook now, and I am no different after an encounter with her than an evening when I do not speak to her.’ He made pains to ensure that this was the case. Even when he saw her carrying on her flirtation with Stanmere and he wanted to storm over and rip the man’s head off. No one would guess from his countenance that he was affected by Amelia one way or the other.
It was Ezra’s turn to raise an eyebrow. ‘You are speaking with her? What happened to your vow to avoid her completely?’
Ash should never have told his friends about that. If he hadn’t mentioned Amelia, the three of them would likely have forgotten that she existed. He’d been so irritated after their dance together at the start of the season that he’d blurted out the details and sworn to his friends that he would be avoiding her henceforth. ‘Mostly I have stuck to my decision but at the soiree a few nights ago we exchanged words.’ He fiddled with a quill on his desk. ‘It was not my intention to converse with her. I was walking through a corridor and she bumped straight into me.’
‘And instead of walking on, words fell out of your mouth? Are you sure marriage to her doesn’t solve all your problems?’ Ash glared at his friend, who was clearly struggling to hide a smile. If Ash was sharing details, and he had absolutely no intention of doing so, he would have told Ezra just what it was like to feel Amelia’s body against his for the first time in many, many years. It had been a shock; that was why he’d not let her go immediately. It sure as hell wasn’t because he wanted to hold her against his chest, to breathe her in and not let go.
‘It would have been rude not to say anything to her, but it was hardly a lengthy conversation in which we declared our undying love for one another. It wasn’t even an amicable conversation between old friends.’ No, instead, he had blurted out the truth of his family’s strained circumstances because of the investments made on the advice of her father. He could lie and tell himself it was because he’d assumed she’d already known, but that hadn’t been the truth, or at least not the full case. She still wore the same perfume. It had taken him back to the years when she had welcomed his embrace, and the words had come pouring out of him with no filter.
‘I think bedding a woman could be your solution. And, to be clear, I mean a woman who isn’t a wife. Women have been flocking around you this season and not just those who are looking for a husband. I’m sure you could find a willing bedfellow amongst the hordes. A few hours forgetting about your worries would do you a world of good.’
Ash rubbed his forehead; perhaps his friend was right. He couldn’t stop the thoughts that continued to circle around his head: money, his sisters, nightmares about the war, the repairs on Easton Hall, how to stop his mother spending and, always like a spectre that never truly left, Amelia bloody Washbrook. He could do with a few hours, hell, he’d take a few minutes at this stage, of not thinking about it all. ‘You might be right.’
Ezra thew himself backwards, theatrically clutching his chest. ‘I may need you to say that again.’
‘Very funny.’ It was good when they laughed together. Hopefully, one day, it would be commonplace between them once more. ‘I agree with you that it would be a good idea to stop thinking about everything that ails me for even a short while, but I don’t want a mistress. I would have to pay for her upkeep and I don’t have the money for it. Also…’ He paused, unsure whether to share something he’d kept to himself for so long.
‘Also…?’ prompted Ezra.
‘I don’t like the idea of bedding someone who is in it for the money. I want someone who is as attracted to me as I am to them.’ He shifted on his seat, wishing he hadn’t said the words. He knew other men didn’t share the same qualms; a willing body was a willing body whether it was paid for or not. But the idea of money exchanging hands, even if it was in the form of an expensive necklace or something like that, killed any desire dead for him. It always had, which might be one of the reasons he was struggling so hard with the idea of marrying for money.
‘I thought as much.’
‘You did?’
Ezra smiled slightly. ‘Your behaviour has made the preference rather obvious.’
‘Oh.’ Ash stroked his chin. He’d always thought his sexual preference in this was a slightly shameful secret, that if his friends knew they would think him less of a man somehow. It was strange to think that they had probably known all along and had never made him feel judged for it. ‘In that case, if there is anyone you can think of to introduce me to, I’d be most interested.’ He could do this. He could have a brief affair before he married. Most men did and it was nothing to be ashamed of if both people were willing. If it gave him a few hours respite from all his worries then surely it was a very good thing to do indeed.
‘Excellent.’ Ezra clapped his hands together. ‘I’ll find someone discreet to set you up with. A widow perhaps, someone financially independent who…’
Ezra carried on talking but his words had once again reminded Ash of Amelia. Although probably not intending to, Ezra had described her circumstances exactly—a widow of means who could take a lover. Perhaps that was what her relationship with Stanmere was like. Good grief, why on earth had he thought of that ? Now he had the most awful image in his head, which he knew would revisit him in the early hours of the morning when his nightmares brought him to his lowest point. Christ, didn’t he have enough to deal with already without pondering that hideousness?
‘How does that all sound?’
Ash blinked; he hadn’t heard a word Ezra had said for the past few minutes. ‘Whatever you think is best.’
Surprise flickered over Ezra’s face but he made no further comment. Ezra was right to be taken aback; taking a mistress was not something Ash had readily agreed to in the past. During his time at Oxford, his naive devotion to Amelia had stopped him from taking a lover. The idea of kissing a woman who wasn’t her was as unappealing as washing in muddy water. And later, during the war, there hadn’t been time for a mistress, not in that never-ending hellhole. But there was nothing to stop him now. He was committed to no one. If he engaged in a dalliance there was no one who would feel hurt and no one he would be betraying. And he was no longer on a battlefield, so why not?
‘If you’re serious about this, I have something for you.’ Ezra rummaged around in his coat pocket and pulled out a hand-sized book. ‘I’ve found this…um…useful, shall we say?’
Ash took the book, still warm from Ezra’s body. The pages parted slightly and he caught a glimpse of several of the images. ‘Oh,’ he said, his body tightening.
Ezra cleared his throat, his eyes shining with amusement. ‘It’s a good read.’
Ash snorted. ‘The pictures certainly look far better than my accounts.’ He turned the book the right way up and glanced at one of the line drawings. A man and a woman were locked in an embrace that didn’t look physically possible.
‘Yes,’ said Ezra, clocking the page he was looking at, ‘some of those do not seem doable but others are worth the effort.’
Ash turned to another page; this image looked more anatomically possible. ‘I…’ But before he could continue, he was interrupted by a knock at the door.
Harland, the Ashworth’s long-serving butler, entered, an unreadable emotion on his face. ‘Lady Mortram is here to pay you a call, Mr Ashworth.’
Ash froze, his grip tightening on the small leather-bound book.
‘Shall I tell her you are not at home?’ Harland intoned, making it clear that was the option he preferred.
‘I…’ The book was burning a hole through his hand and yet he did not release it. ‘No. You can show her in.’
Harland’s look was easy to read; he did not approve of this visit. As a gentleman, Ash probably should turn her away but he was not going to. It wasn’t up to Harland whom Ash saw, and Ash wanted to know why exactly Amelia, who was generally trying to ignore him, had turned up at his family’s townhouse.
‘What have we here?’ murmured Ezra as Harland disappeared.
‘I cannot begin to imagine.’
He stood as he heard footsteps approaching, Harland’s heavy ones and then the softer sound of Amelia’s following him. He’d stood on many battlefields, had faced death with equanimity, but for some reason it was now, in this moment, that his heart was racing. His butler must have said some words of introduction but Ash did not hear them because Amelia was standing in his study doorway. The sunlight caught her hair through the window, illuminating the red streaks and making them burn as she turned towards him. Her expression was unsure, vulnerable almost, and it reminded him so strongly of when they were younger and she was a much less confident version of the woman she appeared to be now. It made him want to cross the room, to take her hand in his and squeeze her fingers reassuringly. Instead, he held himself still, he had no right to do that anymore, and it irritated him that he still wanted to.
‘Lady Mortram,’ he said, somewhat unnecessarily.
She nodded, seeming to pull herself together. ‘Mr Ashworth,’ she countered, also needlessly.
The stilted greetings over, they only stood awkwardly. He should invite her in but she didn’t appear to have a chaperone with her, and he thought that if she entered that might cross some sort of forbidden line.
Someone in the room coughed. Ezra. Ash had forgotten he was still standing there watching all of this gawking unfold. He glanced across at his friend, who wasn’t doing a good job of hiding a smirk. He turned when Ash caught his gaze, his eyes flashing with laughter. ‘I will take my leave,’ he said. ‘I wish you happy reading.’ He nodded to the book, which Ash was still clutching tightly in his hand. For reasons unknown, Ash threw the book onto his desk where it skittered across the surface and landed on the wooden floor with a sharp smack.
Ezra snorted with laughter. Ash fought the heat of his skin, which threatened to turn his cheeks crimson. Thankfully, the book landed closed, sparing him the embarrassment of Amelia seeing the contents.
‘Thank you for coming by,’ he said to Ezra, privately cursing him to the very devil. It seemed to take him forever to leave and even longer for Harland to shuffle off, his eyes the image of wounded indignation, but eventually he and Amelia were left alone.
‘Thank you for seeing me,’ Amelia said when they could no longer hear the sounds of anyone moving about the house. She stayed by the doorway, clasping her hands in front of her.
‘I’ll admit to being intrigued as to why you are here. I thought you were back to avoiding me.’ Redness stained her cheeks and Ash realised he was being a boor. ‘Do come in and take a seat.’ He gestured to the wingback chair that Ezra had recently vacated.
She took a few steps into the room before stopping. ‘I’ve been thinking…’ She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘About what you said.’
She took another step forward, turned to walk towards the window before deciding better of it and heading towards his bookshelf. The door to his study remained open, and Ash resisted the urge to cross the room and close it.
He cleared his throat. ‘What is it that I said?’
‘About my father.’
‘Ah.’ He paused as she reached up and brushed her fingers over the spines of some of his books. ‘Please forget I told you a thing.’ He’d regretted it from the moment he’d told her. It solved nothing and now someone outside his family knew just how bad the Ashworths’ finances were.
‘It’s impossible to forget,’ she said, picking up a carving of a bird. Ash had made it for his father years ago and had found it in his study after his father died. It wasn’t a masterpiece but it had touched something within him to see that his father had kept it all these years.
‘I remember you making this.’ Amelia turned the carving round in her fingers, inspecting it from every angle, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth.
He kept silent. He did not want to reminisce. It was bad enough that he kept thinking about her; he did not want to make it worse by discussing the pleasant times that had passed between them. Her smile died when she caught sight of his face. He didn’t need a mirror to know that he did not look welcoming but he did not care. ‘If you are here to apologise for what your father did, then there is no need. My own father was normally a circumspect man and he followed your father’s advice on his own accord. Although I may have implied otherwise, it was as much my father’s doing as anything to do with yours.’
He was pleased with his speech. He knew, deep down, that he couldn’t help but blame Amelia’s father more than his own, but he was logical enough to know that he was being unfair. His father had followed bad advice, not once but twice, and then died before he could make amends. If Ash had been here and not out on the continent fighting one bloody battle after another, he might have been able to stop the mess becoming greater. It was a combination of bad events happening in quick succession. His feelings of resentment at Amelia’s father were probably tied up with his feelings towards the man’s daughter, but he was adult enough to admit that he was not being fair to her about that, either. He couldn’t blame Amelia for falling in love with someone else. Nobody chose how they felt, and he knew that she wouldn’t have intended to hurt him.
Knowing that, though, didn’t really help. He was still bloody angry about it.
‘How generous of you,’ responded Amelia. Ash picked up from her tone that she didn’t think he was generous at all. How infuriating when he was being damned kind-hearted.
‘Lady Mortram.’ He noticed her flinch at her title and couldn’t help the dart of satisfaction that whipped through him. ‘You came here to see me. Shall we get to the heart of the matter without further delay?’
He gestured again to the chair on the other side of his desk.
‘Very well.’ She took the proffered seat, which left him no other option but to take his own chair opposite her as if they were conducting a business arrangement.
It was an inconvenient moment to notice that her dress dipped low enough for him to make out the curve of her breasts, and to remember just how soft her skin was there and the low-throated murmur she would make when he would drag his lips over it. He turned his gaze away from the exposed skin so sharply it hurt his neck.
‘Your father took some bad advice from mine,’ she stated.
‘He did.’
‘And it has reduced your family’s circumstances somewhat.’
That was putting it mildly. ‘Somewhat, yes.’
‘I am sorry for that.’ Her long fingers tapped the armrest. A minute passed. And another.
‘Is that it?’ he asked when it seemed she wasn’t going to say any more.
‘No. There’s more.’
‘Are you going to get to it today? Only I have paperwork to be getting on with.’ He gestured to the work spreading across his desk.
She glowered at him and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from grinning. She looked like a cat who’d been splashed with water. She inhaled deeply and then let it out slowly. ‘I know that you can keep a secret,’ she said when he began to think she was not going to say another word. Colour spread across her cheeks, leaving in him no doubt as to what she was referring.
He shifted in his seat as memories assailed him, her breath against the crook of his neck, her fingertips on the inside of his arm, her hair unbound spilling over his hands. He’d never discussed what had happened between them with anyone, not even his three closest friends. Amelia and he had been young. Ash had intended to marry her; otherwise, he would not have laid a hand on her. He had not taken away her virginity but he knew her body as well as she knew his. ‘Yes. I can keep a secret. Is that why you are here? To make sure I tell no one of our past? Because I can assure you that no one will hear what transpired between us from me.’
She let out a breath in a rush of poorly disguised relief. He gripped the edge of the table. It was one thing for her to marry someone else, another for her family to be the reason for his family’s downfall, but for her not to trust his integrity as a gentleman was quite beyond the pale. ‘If that is all, then I really must insist…’
‘Stop trying to get rid of me, Ash.’ Her eyes widened, presumably realising she’d used the shortened version of his name, something she had previously taken great pains to avoid. She shook her head briskly. ‘I have something I would like to discuss with you but I am going to require your word that you will treat what I have to say in confidence.’
He stretched his fingers, the desire to tell her to go to the devil warring with two diametrically opposed cravings. He wanted, no, he needed to hear what she had to say. The possibilities were endless although he was guessing it was something to do with their fathers. It stood to reason that she would know more than her siblings as she was the oldest. If she was going to say something that might solve his financial problems then he owed it to his family to hear her out.
This wasn’t the only reason he wanted her to stay. He was far more reluctant to admit it to himself but he also wanted her company. For a large part of his life, Amelia had been his closest confidante and he missed her, missed the way she listened to him as if what he had to say was important; missed the way she laughed with her whole body; and he missed watching the way her mind worked. Underneath her smiley persona, she was incredibly clever and quick-witted and he’d always enjoyed that about her. It was annoying but it was true and Ash strove to be honest with himself.
‘You have my word that I will not reveal anything you have said.’ He paused and then tacked on. ‘You didn’t even need to ask that—it will always be true.’
She nodded tightly. ‘Very well.’ She folded her hands in her lap and then released them. She cleared her throat and looked towards the door, then back to him when it was clear no one was going to interrupt them. ‘My father… I think that…that is to say…towards the end of his life, he was not thinking with the same clarity as he had when he was younger. He couldn’t quite understand numbers with the same brilliance he had when in the prime of his life. He would interpret patterns and findings incorrectly. At the time I was so focused on my own…’ She shook her head, dismissing whatever she’d been about to say. ‘I’m afraid I didn’t notice what he was doing and when I eventually realised, it never occurred to me that he had discussed his thoughts with anyone else.’ She took a deep breath, finally meeting Ash’s gaze. ‘When he died he…’ She smiled slightly, although there was no humour in her eyes. ‘When he died, he left my family with virtually nothing.’
Ash’s world tilted. ‘But you… Your brother is at Merrimore. There was never a hint in your…’ He stopped himself before he blurted out that she hadn’t mentioned the problems her family was facing in her letters. He’d read every one that she’d ever sent and he’d never once replied, and she had no idea that he had tried. He’d always imagined that there would be time to explain himself but then she had fallen in love with someone else and it was no longer an issue. He may not have finished his sentence but something in her eyes dimmed; she knew what he’d stopped himself from saying and it hadn’t landed well. ‘I apologise. I did not mean to interrupt, please continue.’
‘There was no hint of our strained circumstances because my mother was so ashamed.’ Ash didn’t find that hard to believe. Mrs Smythe had been a pleasant enough woman but she had placed great pride on the family name and their standing in society. It must have been a bitter blow indeed to fall so far. ‘She also loved my father dearly,’ continued Amelia as if she was reading his thoughts, ‘and hated the idea that people would know he had not quite been in his right mind in the years before he died.’
Ash nodded; he could understand that, too. Love did strange things to a person, making them act in ways that were out of their normal character. For all Amelia’s mother’s pride, there had never been a doubt in Ash’s mind that Amelia’s parents’ marriage was a love match, and that Amelia’s mother would not have wanted anything to damage the memory of her beloved husband.
‘To cut a long story short, I married Mortram. He was comfortably off and could pay for my brother to continue his education as well as provide a reasonable dowry for Rose when she had her come out.’
Ash’s world stopped. Amelia had married for money. She’d had to marry and Ash hadn’t known that until this moment. ‘Was it a love match?’ It was inappropriate to ask but, hell, at this stage, he didn’t care.
She frowned; her lips pursed. ‘No.’
The knowledge was like a punch to the gut. All this time, Ash had believed Amelia had come to the London season and fallen so desperately in love with a man that she had married him only a year after telling Ash she would love him forever. Of course, she could have fallen in love with him afterwards. It changed nothing and it also changed everything.
He opened his mouth to comment but no words came out. There was nothing he could say.
He needed time to think but there was none. Amelia was here, her hands folded neatly on her lap, telling him something that changed everything he had believed for six long years.
He forced himself to breathe steadily, fighting to keep his features serene so as not to betray the shock coursing through him.
‘I am sorry that you had to face that,’ he said quietly. He found that was the truth. No matter how painful her marriage had been to him, she was the one who’d had to marry for money and he knew first-hand how unpleasant that was, even if the women available were perfectly lovely in their own right.
Amelia nodded briskly. ‘It was a long time ago. It was not a pleasant prospect at the time but Mortram and I muddled through, and I believe we made the best of things but that is not the point of this conversation.’
‘No?’ To Ash this was the point of every conversation he ever wanted to have again, but he could see from the rigid set of her shoulders that he would get no more from her for now.
‘Shall I call for tea?’ he asked, realising he should have done that the moment she had stepped into his study. He was out of practice when it came to entertaining.
‘No, thank you. I think it would be for the best if I just came out and told you why I am here.’ She relaxed her fingers only to twist them into the folds of her skirt. ‘You see, Mortram was well off but he was not spectacularly so.’ She straightened. ‘I inherited my father’s knack for investing. That is, before he lost his sharp clarity of mind.’ Ash’s heart stilled. He had not been expecting that revelation, although perhaps he should have done; she was very clever after all. ‘As Mortram’s health declined, in the later stages of our marriage, he lost interest in his affairs and I…’ She trailed off, her fingers winding tighter and tighter into the fabric of her dress.
‘You took over the finances,’ he finished for her.
‘Yes.’
‘Mortram’s wealth is yours.’
She nodded. ‘Yes.’
He could only stare at her. From the word of the ton, Mortram’s wealth was said to be vast, far outstripping many members of the ton. The fortune said to be behind the name was why his mother had wanted him to pursue Sienna after all. It was almost unfathomable that this large pool of money was down to the woman opposite him. Yes, her intelligence was sharp but to acquire that level of wealth required a level of tenacity Ash had not realised she possessed. The woman who’d appeared so sweet and demure during their shared childhood. The woman who smiled and laughed with the ton and who was almost universally adored by them. The woman who would be ruined if this got out because women were not supposed to partake in such gentlemanly pursuits. To do so was considered unseemly, although Ash had no idea why. For the second time that morning, he was rendered speechless.
‘You have no reason to trust my family after what my father did but I am here to offer you my…guidance on the exchange should you be interested.’ Still, he said nothing. ‘In return, you can invest in my name.’ Now that she’d started, the words were tumbling out of her. ‘Since Mortram died I have been unable to find someone whom I can trust and I’ve been unable to continue with my business. I thought I was happy to enjoy myself and live off the money that has been accrued, but it turns out I miss the excitement of seeing my money grow. As you know, it would not be impossible to trade in my name. Some widows do but I want nothing to sully Sienna’s name. I have no intention of marrying again. Therefore, finding someone I trust to undertake the work in my name is vital if I am to continue.’
Ash thought himself a man not given to much emotion but there was so much coursing through him right now, it was difficult to know what to say or do. On the one hand, he wanted to show Amelia to the door and ask her never to return. He had his pride and receiving help from the woman who had broken his heart even unwittingly was galling in the extreme. On the other hand, he was spectacularly impressed with her. Not only had she used her intelligence to turn her life around, she had also managed to fool the ton by accumulating a fortune in front of their very noses, all the while becoming a much-loved member of the highest echelons. He’d always regarded her well, her marriage notwithstanding, but now he was in awe of her abilities.
And…on yet another hand, if he could say that when he only had two hands and this required a third, he needed help, desperately. Earlier, he had been hoping for a miracle and this could be it. Although, he could foresee some issues if he took her up on the offer. ‘There is a slight problem in that I don’t have any money to invest.’ How it hurt his pride to say it but he knew that Amelia would not pass that information on to anyone else. She had trusted him with more than one secret of hers and she would do the same for him.
She nodded. ‘We can work around that. I can lend you some and…’
‘No.’ He had to draw a line somewhere. This was emasculating enough as it was without him having to resort to borrowing money from Amelia.
Amelia rolled her eyes in a gesture that was so like her younger self he almost forgot for a moment about the intervening years. ‘There is no need to be defensive. I would not have been able to invest without Mortram’s money.’
And there was the rub. To borrow money, Ash would have to take it from Mortram. Oh, it may be Amelia’s now; it could even be considered more hers than Mortram’s because she’d created it through her own wits. It did not change the fact that the money had initially come from the man who had married the woman Ash had loved. Obviously, Ash knew he’d had a part to play in the end of his relationship with Amelia. If he’d been able to finish one of the blasted letters he’d tried to write to her then maybe she wouldn’t have married Mortram or maybe she would have married the man anyway. She’d needed saving and he hadn’t been there to do it; someone else had stepped in. Whether Amelia had loved her husband or not, Mortram had been there for her in a way that Ash hadn’t. Yet another person Ash had let down. It didn’t matter either way in terms of borrowing the man’s money. It was humiliating.
‘I’ll find another way to raise some capital.’ He glanced down at the paper before him, which told him quite plainly that there was no other way. It didn’t matter; he would still find it. ‘We have some paintings I can sell.’ Never mind that auctioning off the paintings would draw attention to his family’s sorry state of affairs. It was somehow less shameful than the alternative.
Thankfully, Amelia didn’t press the issue. ‘Very well. Perhaps we can meet in a few days to discuss the matter further.’
‘That would be amenable.’ Amelia’s lips twitched and he resisted smiling back at her. He knew he sounded like a pompous ass, the type of man he and Amelia would have laughed at back in the days of their friendship, but he did not want to share the joke with her. It was petty but he wanted some control over this meeting, even if it was very tenuous. ‘If the weather is fine on Thursday perhaps we could take a walk in the park with your sister.’
She frowned. ‘You would be happy for Sienna to hear of your business?’
‘Would you not tell her anyway?’
‘Of course not,’ she bristled. ‘This is between you and me.’
He’d thought as much but it warmed his heart to hear her say so. ‘It would be a good idea to bring Sienna along for the sake of propriety, but do you think she will want to walk alongside us the whole time? I would have thought she finds us both of such an advanced age that conversing with us would be tiresome to her.’
Amelia smiled; he ignored the thud of his heart at the sight of it. This was a business arrangement between two old friends, nothing more. ‘I’m afraid she does think we are practically in our dotage—well, me at least.’
‘I’m not surprised. My sisters think I am exceptionally old and they are only a year younger than Sienna. They seem to believe I am one step away from my grave.’
Amelia laughed, the sound rich and deep. The noise took him back to the halls of his ancestral home. The two of them had escaped the confines of the stuffy adults and were loitering among the paintings of long-dead relatives. She’d said something or maybe he had and they had collapsed with laughter. Every time one of them had tried to sober up, the laughter had started again. They’d laughed until they’d cried; the joy two people could only experience through total innocence. God, how he longed to be back there in that moment. Instead, he shuffled the papers on his desk, finding he couldn’t look at her. If he did, he wouldn’t see the gaze of adoration he’d been so used to seeing from her whenever he’d made her laugh in the past. The look he hadn’t realised he’d missed until it was no longer directed at him.
Her laughter died and he mourned the loss of it but could find no way to bring it back, especially as his gaze was still locked intently, but unseeingly, on the papers spread out on his desk. ‘I will call on you on Thursday, then,’ he said instead.
‘Very well.’ He heard her stand and followed suit, risking a glance in her direction.
She was busy smoothing out the wrinkles from her outfit and he watched her fingers move over the fabric. She’d made the same gesture at the soiree the other night and he wondered whether it was a nervous habit. It certainly wasn’t necessary. She had always been neatly put together; it was one of the only things that did not appear to have changed about her. ‘Thank you, Amelia.’ Her hands froze in position, the line of her shoulders tensing. He knew they’d agreed not to call one another by their given names but surely her offer negated that. He pressed on before she could comment. ‘Thank you for sharing your secret with me and for offering your help. It means a lot to me.’
Her head was bent but he could still make out the flush that stole across her skin, turning the tips of her ears red. ‘Our families have known each other for a long time and I feel somewhat responsible for the situation you find yourself in,’ she said crisply. ‘Also, I don’t think Sienna would forgive me if your sisters did not get a season. She is looking forward to seeing them. It has been too long since they last spoke. I know that my parents would want me to offer my assistance, especially my father, who would hate to think the family of his dearest friend was suffering because of him.’
‘Of course.’ Ash wasn’t under the illusion that Amelia was doing this solely for him, but it would have been nice for her not to emphasise the point quite so forcibly.
‘I shall look forward to seeing you on Thursday,’ she said, her gaze now fixed at a point above his left shoulder.
He came round to the front of his desk, stepping closer to her. He could see her pulse fluttering at the base of her neck, and his own heart rate quickened. Amelia liked to give the impression that she was immune to his presence but perhaps all was not as it seemed. If he took Amelia up on her generous offer, and he didn’t see how he was in any position to refuse, he would have to keep his distance both physically and mentally. He must not notice the tiny details about her because he could not afford to fall in love with her again. He would never make himself vulnerable like that with any woman because it hurt too much when it was over. His responsibilities were too great for him to fall apart.