His eyes narrowed. He had a dozen country houses. What did she want a separate one for? To keep him out? To have assignations with other men?
“You already own a house,” Ashendon reminded her. “Willowbank Farm.”
“I want Willowbank Farm deeded to Martha Scarratt—free and clear, with her name on the title.”
“But she already has the right to live there for as long as she lives,” Ashendon said. “As well as an allowance to live on.”
“Yes, but this way she will be a property owner and will be able to leave the place to her sister or one of her nieces or nephews. It will give her standing in the community. And the allowance is to continue for as long as she lives.”
Ashendon hesitated, but his niece said urgently, “It’s all I have to give—and you know what I owe her, Cal.”
Hart frowned. Who was this Martha Scarratt person?
Ashendon glanced at Hart, who made a gesture thatindicated his supreme indifference to the arrangement. He would make it his business to find out who the woman was and what his future wife owed her. And then he would decide what to think.
“Everingham to provide a house, with George’s agreement, and Willowbank Farm to be made over to Martha Scarratt,” Ashendon said and his secretary made a note. “Right, what’s next on that list of yours, George?”
“Any children that result from the marriage will live with me and will not be removed from my care unless I agree.”
There was a short silence, then Hart said coldly, “As long as you behave yourself, I see no problem with that.” He had no knowledge of children and little interest in child-rearing. As long as he had an heir, that was all that mattered.
“Provision will be made for each child’s future, when they’re born.”
“Naturally. As long as they’re my children.”
She flashed him a look of indignation. “I believe the marriage service says ‘forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live.’ I, at least, have no intention of breaking my vows.”
His brow rose cynically. “If you say so.”
Her eyes narrowed.
Ashendon said, “What about the duke’s fidelity—don’t you have anything to say about that?”
The duke’s attraction was bound to blow itself out—as would hers, no doubt—and she would not, absolutely not demean herself by appearing to care what he did after that. She shrugged. “Most men are tomcats, everybody knows that.”
Now it was Hart’s turn to be offended. He’d planned to continue with his current way of life, which meant he would probably set himself up with a mistress once his wife took to living in the country with her dogs and horses. It was unreasonable to expect otherwise. But her attitude was insulting; if she could be faithful, so could he.
Hart waited for her next condition. She tensed and he knew this would be the big one. Women were devious—shehadn’t yet made any demand that was not laughably minor. They always left the sneakiest until last.
“My horse, Sultan, is my property and will remain so.”
Hart almost laughed. He hadn’t expected that, but given her passion for the animal, he should have. “Will you allow the stallion to cover some of my mares?”
She considered that. “If they’re of suitable quality, and Sultan likes the look of them.”
“Agreed. What else?” He waited. He could tell by the tension in her body that it was something he wouldn’t like.
She moistened her lips before she spoke and for a few seconds he was so focused on her mouth that he almost didn’t take in what she said. Almost. “Whatdid you say?”
She lifted her chin and sent him a defiant look. “I want you to promise me that there will be no hunting of foxes on any of your properties,” she repeated.
“Out of the question,” he snapped. Never had he heard such a ridiculous proposition. He recalled the bleeding-heart speech she’d made to him over supper at the ball the other night. “Foxes are vermin.”
“They have a right to exist as much as anyone—besides, you know as well as I do that it’s the chase all you men like—the hunt, the blood, the cruelty.”
“Rubbish!” There was an element of truth in what she said—he did enjoy the chase—but, dammit, it was a tradition. A grand sport. And one he enjoyed.
“Whatever your reasons—or what you claim as your reasons—will you agree to cease all foxhunting on your properties?”
