LITMIR.BIZ

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rose on the back of Leo’s neck. Why the change in expression? ‘Your daughter told you?’

      ‘She did.’ Covendale lowered himself into his chair. He did not ask Leo to sit.

      Leo’s muscles stiffened. ‘Then you know I have come to ask your permission to marry her.’

      ‘I do.’ Covendale sighed and shook his head as if in dismay. ‘How do I proceed?’

      Leo heard the fire’s roar again. ‘I assure you, the loss of my stable is only a minor setback. Your daughter will want for nothing.’

      Leo would recoup his losses, he vowed. He’d borrow the money from his brother if he had to. Rebuild his stables to be grander. Make his stud farm even more prosperous, more respected.

      ‘Perhaps.’ Covendale winced. ‘But—’

      Leo cut him off. ‘Are you concerned about her inheritance? I have no need of her inheritance.’

      Mariel’s great-aunt had bequeathed her a considerable fortune, to be bestowed upon her at age twenty-five if she remained unmarried, sooner if she married with her father’s approval. If her marriage did not meet her father’s approval, however, the fortune would be forfeited to some obscure and frivolous charity.

      Leo pressed on. ‘I ask your approval of our marriage only because I will not have Mariel give up her money for me.’

      Leo and Mariel had discussed this. She’d insisted her father would never approve of Leo. They’d considered running off to Scotland, but even though Mariel did not care about the money she stood to lose by eloping, she did care about the scandal it would cause her family, especially her younger sisters. Leo also had no wish for scandal. He planned to gain society’s respect by producing the finest horses in England, even finer than his brother Stephen’s horses. Furthermore, Leo would not take a penny of Mariel’s money. It would always remain under her control.

      He gave Covendale a steady look. ‘I assure you, the money will remain in Mariel’s hands. I will sign papers to that effect. We can make the arrangement before the marriage, if you like.’

      Covendale raised a hand. ‘Enough, Fitzmanning. This matter between you and my daughter has come as a complete surprise to me. I knew nothing of this—this—courtship before Mariel informed me why you sought an appointment.’

      Leo had no defence for the secrecy, except that Mariel had desired it. ‘Mariel and I have known each other since childhood, as you well know. She and my sisters have remained friends. We became reacquainted while she visited with them.’

      In January, amidst Charlotte’s wailing children and her barking pugs, Leo had found Mariel again. No longer was she the annoying girl with plaited hair who’d joined his sisters in trailing after him. Mariel had transformed into a woman so lovely that, for that first moment of glimpsing her again, he’d forgotten how to breathe. They met again at Charlotte’s house and eventually contrived further meetings in secret. No one knew of their attachment, of the strong bond that quickly grew between them. No one knew that Mariel was the reason Leo left his brother’s employ to establish his own stud farm. To make a loving, respectable home for her at Welbourne Manor.

      Covendale waved a hand. ‘Never mind that. When did you last speak with my daughter?’

      It had been the day they’d discussed setting up this meeting. ‘About a month ago.’

      Since then there had been no opportunity to contact her. He’d thrown himself into setting up his farm to keep from missing her and to make the time fly.

      Covendale glanced away, seeming to mull over something. He rubbed his face and turned back to Leo. ‘A month can be a long time. Much can happen.’

      Leo sprang towards the desk and came within inches of Covendale’s nose. ‘Has something happened to Mariel? I demand you tell me. Is she ill? Is she hurt?’

      ‘Neither!’ The man recoiled. ‘She is betrothed!’

      Leo stepped back. His brow knit in confusion. ‘Betrothed? Yes. She is betrothed to me.’

      ‘Not to you.’ Covendale glanced away. ‘She is betrothed to Lord Ashworth.’

       Ashworth?

       Edward Ashworth?

      Ashworth had been a schoolmate of Leo’s, an affable boy who’d grown into a decent man. He was titled, wealthy and well liked by everyone, the epitome of an ideal husband.

      Covendale handed Leo a sheet of paper. ‘It is all arranged. Here is the special licence. I could show you the marriage settlement papers….’

      Mariel’s and Ashworth’s names were written legibly on the sheet of paper that allowed couples to marry elsewhere than a church and which waived the reading of the banns. The paper was signed by the Archbishop.

      Leo shoved the paper back to Covendale. ‘Does Mariel know of this?’

      Covendale coughed. ‘Of course she knows of it.’

      ‘I would speak with her, sir. Send for her.’ Mariel would never do this. Not without telling him.

      ‘She is not here.’ Her father raised his shoulders. ‘She and her mother are in Herefordshire at Ashworth’s estate.’

      At Ashworth’s estate?

      Leo forced himself to meet and hold Covendale’s gaze. Inside, his emotions flamed like the stable’s burning rafters.

      Why would she go there, if not …?

      Covendale went on. ‘Ashworth is a fine man, from a decent family. His is an old title. Mariel is not a foolish girl. She knows this is an excellent match for her. A real step up.’ He made a mollifying gesture. ‘You must look at this situation from my point of view. Do I approve your suit or the suit of a young man who possesses a title? Who will be better for my daughter?’

      Leo glared at him. ‘You cannot force Mariel to marry. She is of age.’

      ‘I am not forcing her,’ the man insisted. ‘Her age is of issue, of course. That cannot be ignored. At twenty-one she’s practically on the shelf. Her mother and I despaired of her ever making a good match. I believe she herself was becoming somewhat desperate—but, then, perhaps that is why she considered marrying you.’

      Leo ignored that put-down. ‘No. We pledged our devotion to each other.’ Mariel’s love was genuine. He would wager everything he possessed upon it.

      Although most of what he possessed was now mere ashes.

      Covendale clucked. ‘Devotion? My poor, poor fellow. Devotion is fleeting. Whatever pretty words passed between you and my daughter are no match for what really matters.’

      ‘And that is?’ The fire again roared in Leo’s ears.

      Covendale shifted in his chair. ‘A good name. Connections. Status in society.’ He leaned closer. ‘That is what my daughter desires and deserves. She will not have that if she marries you.’

      So that was it? Good name? Status? Leo intended to build those things for himself. And he was not without connections. His father and King George had been fast friends, for God’s sake.

      Covendale smiled. ‘Like all young women, she wishes to marry respectably.’

      Leo’s fists tightened. ‘Have I ever conducted myself in any way that was not respectable?’

      ‘Not that I’ve heard.’ The man wagged his finger at Leo. ‘With the exception of courting my daughter in secret.’

      Leo burned as if the flames continued to surround him.

      Covendale made another mollifying gesture. ‘You must look at this situation rationally. Given a choice, Mariel cannot debase herself with—with a man of your birth.’

      A bastard, he meant.

      ‘Your

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