“Of course. We will take the absolute best care of Mr. Stanley. I agree that yours is a good plan of action, my Lord.” Morganpaused and cleared his throat, his gaze wandering around the room, landing on anything but Marco as he continued. “Not to be indelicate, my Lord, but how are we to pay for the materials and labour needed to rebuild the gatehouse?”
Marco winced and bit his lip, mulling that question over for a moment.
“I suppose I shall have to send word to the family man-of-business to sell another of the pieces of art remaining in my family’s collection, though I hate to do it. That is my best option at this point.”
“I’m sorry the loss of the art pains you, my Lord.”
Marco slumped a little lower in his chair, feeling the responsibility he held to all of the people his estates supported like a weight crushing him. It was an honour to have people to care for, of course, and he did not resent them. Rather, he lamented that he was doing so poorly by them, when he desperately wanted to save them all and see them prosper.
“A gentleman does what he must, Morgan. I just wish that the threat to Ashewood had not come at such a terribly inopportune time. I was, when the threat was delivered to me at Lady Duncan’s Ball, busy courting a young lady — one whom I could easily love and truly hope to have the privilege of spending my life with — who also happens to have a dowry which would solve all of our monetary problems.”
The steward leaned forward then, drumming his fingers on the desktop with an intelligent gleam in his stormy grey eyes.
“This may not be a comforting thought, my Lord, but I feel compelled to voice it. Perhaps the object of the threat was to separate you from the young lady you were courting? It could bea rival suitor trying to remove you from his path. Or there may be another reason, which is not yet known to us, that someone wanted you here at Ashewood, rather than in London.”
Frowning, Marco nodded in response to his steward’s observations.
“What you say makes good sense. I just wish that I knew who is making these threats, and why they’re doing it. If I just had some knowledge of their motivations, I might be able to resolve the situation and return to courting my sweet little English lily before some other suitor manages to steal her heart right out from under me. I do not think that I could bear it if that happened.”
Morgan was watching him, obviously considering what had been said.
Marco’s chest constricted painfully at the thought of possibly having to marry someone besides Lady Eugenia, in order to save his estates and the people who relied on them, and Marco rubbed a hand against his breastbone in an attempt to soothe the dull, empty ache which bloomed there at the thought of a life without her.
The possibility was both terrifying and very real, though he hated that he had to consider it at all.
Morgan, who was both sharp-witted and highly competent at his job, missed nothing. He pointed at the spot where Marco was rubbing his aching chest and arched a brow at the Count.
“Then we shall just have to do our best to find out who is following through on the threats, and discover whether there is a way to make it stop, so that you can return to your courtship before we fall on any harder times, my Lord.”
Marco nodded and stood, forcing himself to stop rubbing his chest. He let his hand fall to his side and paced over to the study’s window, gazing down at the garden and the hunting park beyond it.
“Quite right, Morgan. Well, let’s see to getting Mr. Stanley moved into the main house until the gatehouse is fixed, shall we?”
“Absolutely, my Lord.”
Morgan bowed, then strode out of Marco’s study to see to getting Stanley settled in, leaving Marco to think.
Who was doing this to him?
Who would be willing to burn this estate to the ground to get to him?
Was it his debtors?
A rival suitor?
An angry local, unhappy with the hardships that Ashewood Village was very likely facing due to the debts which Marco needed to pay off?
Or someone else entirely?
And, no matter who it was, what were their motivations?
Marco sighed, shaking his head. He had absolutely no idea, but knew that he had better work it out sooner rather than later, before his chances with Lady Eugenia disappeared completely.
CHAPTER FIVE
THISTLEWAYTE HALL
After three daysin bed with the fever she’d caught the day after seeing the piece about her debacle at Lady Duncan’s Ball inThe Society Reporter, Eugenia’s fever had finally broken and she was well enough to drink a cup of tea and carry on a conversation, much to her mother’s delight. She still did not yet feel up to leaving her room, but she was propped up on her pillows and sipping on a second cup of tea, savouring the cream and sugar mingled with the strong black tea, when someone knocked on her door.
