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“What is so different from my brother were he to place one of his cronies in my way and demand I feel something I do not feel?”

“Are you so sure that Marianne does not feel anything for Dunstan? If she tells me so, I will say no more on the subject.” He strode over to the bookcase, ran his forefinger along the spines of a few books before pulling one out. “Here,” he said, placing the book in her hands and covering hers with his. “This one should keep you entertained for a week at least.” They looked at each other, and for an insane moment, she thought he might kiss her.

She watched as he turned on his heel and returned to the safety of his desk.

He had dismissed her, but for some reason she could not leave. “Are you coming to the musicale tonight?”

“No, I have work to do, and as it is a small gathering and your brother was not invited, I dare say I will not be needed.”

“Oh, I thought you were a great lover of music?”

He glared at her as if to say, why are you still here? “I am, but as you now know, if I could get all I want, I would be enjoying the evening with you all, but alas, I am not.” He swept a hand over the piles on his desk.

“I could help you.” It came out of her mouth before she could stop the words.

He laughed. “In which way?”

“I helped my father with his estate matters when he was ill. I wrote his correspondence and even took charge of the household accounts. Lord knows who is doing them now.”

He blinked at her as if he didn’t know quite what to say.

“I could help you at least sort out this mess. Put them into categories.” She pointed to the piles on his desk.

“Putting them into smaller piles does not make the work diminish, I’m afraid, and besides, I have asked Charles to take over some of the estate work. I do thank you for your offer, though.”

Why would she offer such a foolish thing? As if he would let her help him. “That is good to know. In that case, I wish you a good evening.”

“And you.”

“Try and retire early,” she said at the door.

“Yes, Mother,” he said in a weary tone.

Rose nodded and, holding the book, she closed the door, realizing that she had not really made anything better for Marianne. Was the duke right? Was Marianne denying her feelings for Dunstan?

*

Rose Montgomery was a problem. Not in the classical sense, but in the way she affected him on a physical level. She was infuriating, yes, but delightfully so, if there was such a thing. His body reacted in a most un-loyal manner whenever she was around. She stirred him in a way he thought he had mastered years ago. Apparently not.

She had come in ready to put him in his place. Ready to fight him to protect her friend. Despite what that might cost her. Her bravery impressed him. He envied Marianne for having such a friend. Someone who was in her corner, fists up.

He didn’t know a single person who would do so for him. That was his own fault. He wasn’t the type to socialize in the way most gentlemen did. He was not interested in drowning in claret every night, tempting fate with syphilis in a bordello, or losing his worldly goods in some dimly lit hell. He knew other men, naturally, but idle gossip did not interest him; that was his brother Tony’s area of expertise. He couldn’t care less what horse won at Ascot or who won what wager at White’s. If that made him one who lived on the edge of society, so be it. What would it be like to be able to talk about his thoughts with someone without having to censor every word? He had to remind himself that he had chosen this. It had suited him back then, but now?

He opened his door and took a few steps into the hallway. He could hear his mother, sister, and Rose talking excitedly as they readied themselves to leave the house. He wished he were going with them. No, he had so much to do. He smiled to himself, thinking about how Rose had offered to help him. He should go through the piles as she suggested, if only to separate the estate correspondence from his dispatches.

Charles was reluctantly coming tomorrow so that Edward could discuss the most pressing matters at the estate and pick up the latest mail for the estate. It was nothing his clever brother could not handle, he was sure. Charles was always lauded as the smartest of the Ashton brothers. His father thought science was the future and had indulged Charles’s fascination with all things scientific. It was only his brother’s lack of social confidence that held him back. There was an amount of trust in handing this over to his younger sibling and a degree of distress as well. This was his duty, to be the duke and to do all the ducal things, but Tony and his mother were right. With his duty to the Prince Regent as King’s Liaison, national security took precedence over estate matters.

And he would be no help to anyone if he worked himself to death. There was a time when that had been his aim. When life had no light and the future was an endless road of disappointed looks and pleas for him to do what was right. Only they did not know everything that had happened the night Victoria had died. His wife had been a vindictive bitch and had ensured that he would live with her final words etched into his grieving heart.

*

Edward sat behind his desk and studied his younger brother and heir. Charles was sweating and fiddling with the chain on his pocket watch.

“For God’s sake, Charles. You would think I was sentencing you to death by hanging. It is just some correspondence, not hard labor.”

“I know that, but Edward, the pressure to make sure all those under our protection remain safe. It is a daunting task. Then there are the actual estates. There are eight in total. Lord help me. And now you give me more when I have hardly gone through what you sent over before. How am I to do it all?”

“You look after Harlow Manor, do you not?”