Page 31 of Wedded to the Duke of Seduction

Marina’s blood froze. Robert Giles. Her late husband’s creditor, a man known for his ruthless pursuit of debts. Henry had owed the man a substantial sum—a fact she had discovered only after his death, along with the myriad other financial disasters her husband had concealed during their marriage.

She considered fleeing, but the clerk had already announced her presence with a sharp rap on the door. Squaring her shoulders, Marina steeled herself to face whatever awaited her.

“Ah, Lady Asquith.” Lupton’s smile didn’t reach his eyes as she entered the cluttered office. “How punctual you are. I believe you’re acquainted with Mr. Giles?”

Robert Giles rose from his chair, a portly man with calculating eyes and a carefully arranged expression of false cordiality. “Lady Asquith, what a pleasure to see you again.”

“Mr. Giles.” Marina nodded stiffly, keeping her expression neutral despite the dread pooling in her stomach. “This is an unexpected meeting.”

“Not entirely unexpected, I think.” Giles resumed his seat, gesturing for Marina to take the chair beside him. “I have been meaning to discuss a matter of some importance with you.”

Marina remained standing, her posture rigid. “I prefer to conduct my business with Mr. Lupton privately.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Giles’s business cannot wait,” Lupton interjected, exchanging a look with Giles that sent a chill down Marina’s spine. “Please, Lady Asquith, have a seat. This concerns both of us.”

Reluctantly, Marina perched on the edge of the chair, keeping her manuscript clutched tightly in her lap. “What is this about?”

“Your husband’s debts, My Lady.” Giles produced a leather portfolio and removed several documents with flourish. “Lord Asquith borrowed a considerable sum from me shortly before his unfortunate demise. Six thousand pounds to be precise.”

“I am aware of that,” Marina replied carefully. “As I informed you at the time, you should direct your claim to the current Earl of Asquith. Henry’s heir inherited both the title and its responsibilities.”

“And as I informed you,” Giles countered, his tone hardening, “your husband signed these promissory notes in his personal capacity. The debt is attached to his estate, not to the entailed property that passed to his cousin.”

Marina’s mind raced. Henry had left her with precious little—just enough to maintain a small household and keep up appearances but certainly not enough to settle a debt of this magnitude.

“Even if that were true,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “you have never pressed this claim until now. Why the sudden interest in collecting?”

Giles and Lupton exchanged another meaningful glance. “Let’s dispense with the pretense, Lady Asquith,” Giles said, leaning forward. “I had no interest in pursuing a destitute widow with no apparent means of payment. But circumstances have changed, haven’t they?”

Marina’s gaze flicked to Lupton, whose expression was smugly satisfied. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Your literary endeavors have proven quite profitable,” Giles replied, tapping the edge of the manuscript in her lap. “These little stories of yours have captured the ton’s imagination—and their purses. I understand the last one sold over a thousand copies in a single day.”

Ice spread through Marina’s veins. “I don’t?—”

“Please, My Lady,” Lupton interrupted. “Mr. Giles and I have had a most enlightening conversation. There’s no need to maintain the charade.”

Marina’s fingers tightened on her manuscript. “You had no right to share that information,” she said, directing her cold fury at Lupton. “Our arrangement was meant to be confidential.”

“Business is business,” Lupton replied with a shrug. “Mr. Giles made inquiries that I could hardly refuse. Besides, as your publisher, I must protect my investment. A scandal involving my most profitable author could damage sales.”

“Unless, of course, the scandal is carefully managed,” Giles added with a thin smile. “The ton might be even more enthralled by your stories if they knew they were penned by a respectable widow.”

“Or they might be outraged,” Marina countered, fighting to keep her voice steady. “I could be ostracized completely.”

“A risk, certainly,” Giles acknowledged. “But one I am willing to take if you refuse to honor your husband’s obligations.”

He slid a document across the desk. “With interest accrued over these past years, the total now stands at nine thousand, two hundred and forty pounds.”

Marina stared at the number, bile rising in her throat. The sum was astronomical—more than she could hope to earn in a decade of writing, even if Lupton paid her fairly for every story.

“This is impossible,” she said, shoving the paper away. “Even if I acknowledged the debt as mine, which I do not, I could never pay such an amount.”

“We are prepared to be reasonable,” Giles replied smoothly. “A payment schedule could be arranged. Say, five hundred poundsimmediately, and the same amount quarterly until the debt is settled.”

Marina calculated rapidly. At that rate, it would take nearly five years to clear the debt, assuming she could maintain her current level of income—an unlikely prospect, given the fickle nature of the ton’s interests.

“And if I refuse?”

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