She had, however, said she needed money. That much was irrefutable.

But then there was the needling little fact that Emma had quite a bit of money of her own. Alex was familiar with her father’s company; it was quite profitable. In all truth, she didn’t really need his fortune. If he hadn’t been so furious with her that afternoon, he might have remembered that fact.

Something didn’t make sense, but Alex was a little too drunk to figure out what.

He fell asleep in his study.

Wednesday morning he nursed a horrific hangover.

He hauled himself up the stairs and collapsed onto his bed, where, amidst the throbbing of his temples and his dangerously queasy stomach, he began to wonder if perhaps some sort of misunderstanding had taken place. It certainly made more sense that Emma’s actions over a two-month period ought to carry more weight than a flippant comment made on the spur of the moment.

If that were true, then he’d just made a paramount ass of himself.

But on the other hand, Emma’s comment about needing money validated all of the opinions he’d held about women for nearly ten years. Surely a decade took precedence over two months.

Alex let out an agonized groan. His head was still far too bleary to make such weighty decisions, and truth be told, he was afraid he wasn’t going to like himself very much when he finally did reach a conclusion about what had happened the previous afternoon.

Cursing himself for a coward, he drifted back to sleep. It was easier than thinking about her.

When he finally woke up, a few hours after midday, it was not due to his valet’s careful prodding, nor to the bright sunlight that streamed through his window. Rather, he was brutally awakened by Dunford, who had artfully wheedled his way past Smithers and plowed right through Alex’s valet, who subsequently removed his offended sensibilities to the kitchens where he was nursing a strong cup of tea.

“Wake up, Ashbourne!” he yelled, shaking Alex by the shoulders. “For the love of God, man, I don’t think we’ve got much time to spare.”

Alex reluctantly opened his eyes. Christ, it felt as if someone had applied sealing wax to his eyelids. “What are you doing in my bedroom?”

Dunford recoiled from the noxious aroma of stale alcohol on Alex’s breath. “Good Lord, Ashbourne, you reek. What did you do last night? Imbibe a winery?”

“I don’t recall inviting you into my bedroom,” Alex said in an irritated voice.

Dunford wrinkled his nose. “The stench pouring forth from your general direction is really quite amazing.”

“In fact, I don’t recall ever inviting you into my bedroom.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. There are many other bedrooms I would prefer to occupy. However, we are in dire straits. Desperate measures were necessary.”

Alex shot his friend an annoyed glance as he laboriously rose from his bed and crossed over to his washstand, where a bowl of water had been left out the previous night. He splashed his face, blinking a few times as the frigid water started to restore circulation to his brain. “Dunford, what are you talking about?”

“Something is going on over at the Blydon household. Something very strange. I think we need to intercede.”

Alex closed his eyes for a moment. “I’m afraid you’ll have to proceed on your own. I don’t think I’m welcome any longer in the Blydon household.”

Dunford raised his eyebrows.

“Emma and I had an argument,” Alex said simply.

“I see.”

Alex doubted that he did. “It may have been just a misunderstanding,” he muttered. “In which case I may be the greatest fool who ever lived.”

Dunford declined to comment.

Alex looked at his friend intently. They had known each other for years, and he valued Dunford’s judgment. “What is your opinion of Emma? You’ve spent a fair amount of time with her since she arrived. What do you really think of her?”

“I think you’re an idiot if you don’t marry her.”

“Do you think she’d marry for money?”

“For God’s sake, Ashbourne, she’s got a fortune of her own. She doesn’t need to marry for money.”

Alex felt a knot begin to unfold within him as the cold cynicism he’d carried around for years began to crumble. “But do you think she’s greedy?” he asked, almost desperately. “Some women never have enough to satisfy them.”

Dunford stared Alex in the eye, his warm gaze never wavering. “Do you think she’s greedy, Ashbourne? Or are you afraid to take a chance?”

Alex slumped into a chair, his face a portrait of abject despair. “I don’t know anything anymore,” he said wearily, resting his forehead in one of his hands.

Dunford moved to the window, where he looked out over the busy London streets. He sighed softly, aware of his friend’s confusion yet sensing that he needed to keep the last shreds of his pride intact. So Dunford kept his gaze fixed on a tall oak tree across the street as he said, “I’ve known you for at least a decade, Ashbourne, and in that time I have rarely presumed to offer you advice. But I’m going to do it now.” He paused for a moment, trying to collect the words in his head. “You’ve spent the last ten years resigned to the fate of a marriage that, if not unhappy, would at least be unsatisfying. And then you met Emma, and suddenly the possibility of a happy marriage arose, but you’ve grown so distrustful of women that all you can do is look for reasons why Emma won’t make you a good wife. And I think it’s because you know that if you take a chance on Emma, and you aren’t happy, it will be far, far more painful than any marriage of convenience you might have imagined.”