Page 6 of The Duke’s Unwilling Bride

Shaking my head, I throw the door open, startling my good friend as his head pops out from under the desk like some rodent caught in an unspeakable act. Chuckling, I stride over and plop myself into a chair, grateful a cloud of dust doesn’t puff up. At least one place in this house appears clean.

“What the devil are you doing down there?” I keep my tone light, jovial. God knows he needs a bit of levity right now.

“Merely trying to get into this desk. Nothing I do is opening it, and I’d so hate to break it.”

“Let me guess. That chit knows where it is but refuses to give it up?”

“If only. I’ve searched her room while she’s away. Unless she’s hiding it on her person, she doesn’t have it.”

Widening my lips, I reveal my teeth as I grin at him. “Shall I search for you? I have a way of making women drop their clothing.”

“Not now, Foxford,” he sighs, exasperation layered in his tone. “Besides, there’s nothing about her you’ll find interesting or delectable.”

Nodding, I tap my lips with my fingers. “Very true. I prefer my women soft, docile, and not the hellcat you have residing within your walls. Though I love delivering pain, I would much rather do so as a means of pleasure and not as a punishment. From what you’ve written me, this girl would spend every waking moment over my thighs.”

His lips twitch for a moment, but he remains silent. “Please,” he continues after a few tense moments. “I would rather not think of her in that way.”

“Then don’t. I shall. Allow my mind to wander with all the ways I can torture this girl to get her to finally leave you be, the master of Harhurst Hall.” Rising, I stride over to the desk and frown at it. “How is it you are unable to open this? We managed to get into far sturdier desks at the academy.”

Sighing, he sits down and crumples forward, resting his head in his hands. “Perhaps I’m just out of touch.”

“Or you’re just stressed. Here. Allow me.” My gaze roams over the surface of the desk, looking for anything that might be of use. “Aha!”

I pluck the letter opener from its container along with a basic pen knife. Frowning, I shift things about, looking for something more ornate, something in keeping with the status of an earl. But they’re common, nothing but bits of metal and wood. My heart goes out to my friend who used to be the most ornate peacock of the lot.

And now, because of Lady Teresa, a woman who cannot keep herself to the house and spends money as if it’s made of water, he is wilted, with nary a plume to be found. No doubt he’s sold what he can, seeing as he’s far too proud to ask for money. Pushing him to the side, I slip in the tip of the pen knife, holding it at a slight angle as I ease in the letter opener. Next to me, Middlehey paces about, his eyes glancing over at my fingers every few moments.

“Settle, old chap,” I call out. “I will not harm your precious desk.” Just a few more turns of my wrist and a loud click announces it’s open. “There now, free and clear with nary a scratch.”

This time, it’s his turn to push me out of the way as he digs through the contents, his fingers hungry as they rove about, plucking up bits of paper. Underneath is a large key, which he then tries on the other doors. His relieved sighs pepper the air as each one opens, granting him access.

Soon, however, his lips twist into a scowl. “Perhaps if you told me what you were looking for?” I offer, my curiosity growing with each harried thrust of his fingers.

The glint in his eyes as he turns, however, gives me pause. It’s feral, mad, as if he’s about to strike, but as soon as I see it, it’s gone. It must have been the way the light hit him. Nothing in Middlehey is nefarious, and I nearly chuckle at just how wild my brain is about to run.

“Nothing of import. There was the small hope perhaps the late Middlehey stored away some money for later use, but alas, it would seem as if I’m once more the fool for hoping.”

“Not a fool.” I make my way back over to the chair and sprawl across it, affecting a casual stance when inside I’m fuming. “Is it all that bad then?”

Running his fingers through his hair, Middlehey sits across from me, his lips pulled down into a studious frown. “I don’t know what else to do. I’ve all but locked her in the house, and yet, creditors show up nearly daily. I have sold all there is to sell except the townhouse itself. Better yet, I should sell her beloved Harhurst Hall.”

“Yes, but then you will also be denied the ancestral seat you were given by law. Let’s not be hasty. Have you thought of moving you both back into the country? It would be much harder for her to accrue debts when surrounded by lakes and trees.”

“Yes, I’ve considered,” he snaps out, a light growl lacing his tone. “Sorry. That was unkind. Yes,” he continues, his tone far more amenable. “But my main concern is to get this chit married and out of my life, and it will be hard to do that out in the country.”

“It will be near impossible here in town with no money.” Jumping up from the seat, I pace about, my fingers clenching and releasing. All the while, I picture them tightening around this girl’s neck, a woman I’ve never even seen, yet still manages to stoke my ire. “I will help you.”

“What?” His eyes snap to mine, large with disbelief. “I can’t possibly ask that of you. I-”

“The matter is settled,” I bark out, striding over to the desk. “No more selling off possessions meant for your enjoyment. No more cowering in a house that is now your official seat. We will marry this harpy off if it’s the last thing I do. What all do you need to make this happen?”

“Well, I’ve sold off all her things. Right now, she’s in mourning rags, which is not suitable attire to snatch a mate.”

“No indeed. Hmmm. I shall like to see the girl, to look upon this harridan that waltzes about as if she is the one in charge as opposed to her rightful master. I swear, Middlehey. You are far too generous for your own good. I would have put this girl firmly in line the first time she spent even a farthing. That, or shipped her off to a nunnery.”

For a moment, Middlehey smiles, genuine mirth lighting up his face. But then, just as soon, he’s crestfallen once more. “All jokes aside, what am I to do? I am her cousin and not her father. Surely you cannot mean for me to physically take her in hand.”

“And why not?”