When Ash Falls (London Fairy Tales #4)(36)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

She knew she only had limited time, but the letter or the will had made everything more real to her.

The choice had been taken from her and then given back by her cousin. He’d stand by her side. But who would stand by her people? The farmers? The shop owners in her small city? Who would fight for them? Not her stepmother. Certainly not Peter. They were evil, through and through, already taxing the people more than necessary, making it impossible for the village to flourish. They sought only more riches. And when they were in court with the czar? It was like watching peacocks prance around back and forth.

Dominique might stand by her side.

But her father had entrusted a responsibility to her.

She would enjoy her three weeks with Ash.

It would have to be enough to get her through a lifetime.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Madness. Also known as repeating the same torture over and over again—and enjoying it. —The Grimm Reaper

HUNTER’S TOWNHOME WASN’T FAR from Dominique’s, and Ash needed to stretch his legs after that embarrassing spectacle on the stairs, where he’d momentarily forgotten his own damn name — all because of her.

Passion. Ha, well, the joke was on him. The idea had been to distract her with small touches, lingering looks, kissing, touching — not to drive himself to an early grave for the thought of having her, over and over again.

“Damn it.” He kicked a pebble.

It didn’t alleviate his dark mood.

It simply reminded him that he was easily spinning out of control, all because of a girl with violet eyes and a tempting smile.

By the time he reached Hunter’s townhome, he’d gone over several scenarios where he discussed the pitfalls of his little agreement with Sofia… only to curse himself all over again for even thinking upon it. She would simply go to Pierce or another gentleman, of that much he knew. He wasn’t vain enough to assume it was because of who he was that she wanted him.

Sofia was simply… desperate… for something she had read in books and heard whispered amongst women.

Something, sadly, the girl wouldn’t experience, lest she find a tutor.

After all, most titled gentleman thought the wife was merely part of one’s wardrobe. One dressed her up pretty, took her to fancy balls and dinner parties, kissed her on the head goodnight, did his husbandly duty to produce an heir and a spare, then promptly hired a mistress to feed his base needs.

Disgusting.

The mere thought of Sofia’s husband doing such a thing had Ash craving the man’s blood, willing to punch any male who dared approach with her name across his lips. Bastards. All of them. Well, he’d simply wait for them to produce an heir then kill him. Be done with the whole messy business.

Then what? Keep her for himself?

If he lived that long.

If she still wanted him in that way.

If, if, if…

Bloody hateful word.

He knocked on the door and waited.

Hunter’s stiff-looking butler, John, opened the door, his face impassive. “Yes?”

“Ash to see—” Bloody hell. “The Lord Grimm to see the Duke of Wolverstone.”

“Ah…” John’s face transformed into a smile. “…good of you to be so prompt.”

“Tsk, tsk, John.” Ash stepped into the large house. “There you go again, trying to have a personality, when all that’s asked of you is to answer doors and take coats.”

“Yes, well…” John began stripping the coat from Ash’s shoulders. “…I find indifference bores me.”

“It bores us all.” Hunter’s booming voice sounded through the large entryway. “Brother… and almost early. My, my, to what do I owe the pleasure of this prompt arrival?”

Ash’s eyes narrowed.

“Or to whom?” Hunter grinned.

John chuckled.

“Your butler’s impertinent.”

“Yes, well, he tries to look stern when we have more important guests. I do tell him to practice but alas…”

“Apologies, Your Grace.” John bowed, his bald head shining in the light. “I’ll do my best to look as depressing as the London sky.”

“Think rain, puddles, mud, France…” Hunter nodded encouragingly then slapped him on the back. “…and when all else fails think—”

“France.” Ash coughed. “It never fails.”

“—France.” John repeated. “Right, well, shall I have some tea brought into the office?”

“Ah, you read minds!” Hunter snapped his fingers. “I knew I kept you for a reason.”

John rolled his eyes and walked off, leaving Hunter laughing silently to himself while Ash tried to dispel thoughts of Sofia from his head.

France, France, France…

Waterloo.

Bloody hell, even the thought of war wasn’t helping.

“Come along then.” Hunter urged him forward. “Let’s not get caught gossiping by the wife.”

“Because that happens so often,” Ash said dryly.

“More so than usual, since you’ve been in attendance. Why, the maids are all aflutter that Lord Grimm has returned to society. Hell, the bloody rag sheets are swarming with gossip.”

Ash cringed and took a seat near the fireplace; he leaned his elbows on his knees. “How bad?”

Hunter let out a bark of laughter. “One lady claims she felt her heart skip a beat when you smiled in her direction.”

“I make a habit not to smile at females.”

“Yes, I’m aware. So are the females. I believe she imagined the entire thing. Shall I ask her what she’s named your future children?”

“Hunter,” Ash warned.

His brother sat across from him and threw a few scandal sheets onto the table. “Another says you appear to be a man haunted by a dark past… in need of some… company of the female sort. Oh and my favorite is this…” He pointed to the sheet and sighed happily. “Shall I read it aloud?”

“I’d rather you not—”

“Rumors are fast spreading amongst the ton that Lord Grimm has his sights set on London’s latest arrival. Miss Sofia Maskylov, the Russian beauty and cousin to Prince Maskylov, could not take her eyes off the fellow and vice versa. This author has it on good authority that a scandal is brewing between the two. After all, to share more than one dance then disappear for half the night, only to return with a look of pure satisfaction? Then again, this author would have that same look on her face if she was able to disappear with the dangerous looking lord; by God, the man has a face of a fallen angel. But you know what they say about fallen creatures. They so love to bring the pure down with them. Will she stay white as snow? Only time will tell.”