Even by your extravagant standards, Ash, you must admit this is a bit much. Mark finally broke his gaze from the tableau in front of them and met Ash’s eyes. Do you suppose I would simply kick you from a carriage at Market Cross and let you disappear for the summer? A house back in Shepton Mallet would have done.Ī tight knot formed in Ash’s stomach. Mark shrugged, as if this evidence of prosperity meant nothing to him. Here you are.ĭown in the valley, the first ranks of servants had begun to gather, jockeying for position on the wide steps leading up to the massive front doors. You asked me to find you a quiet country home for these last weeks of summer, so you might work in peace. Perhaps that was why the last thing Ash wanted to do in his moment of victory was to hash through the ethics.Īsh shook his head. But most of all, Mark seemed profoundly, sacredly innocent, where Ash felt tired and profane. He was the opposite of Ash-blond, where Ash’s hair was dark slim, where Ash’s shoulders had broadened with years of labor. But despite all that Mark had experienced, he had somehow managed to retain an aura of almost painful purity. Mark was seven years younger than Ash, which made him by most estimations firmly an adult. Mark’s voice was barely audible above the wind that whipped at Ash’s collar. That detached focus made him look simultaneously old, as if he deserved an elder’s beard to go with that inexplicable wisdom, and yet still unaccountably boyish. Mark was facing forwards, looking at the manor below with an abstracted expression. Nobody, that was, except his little brother.Īsh turned in the saddle. Once he inherited, nobody would gainsay him. In a few moments, the staff would spill out onto the front steps, arranging themselves in careful lines, ready to greet the man who would be their master.Ī smile played over Ash’s face. Undoubtedly, someone had set a servant to watch for his arrival. From this high vantage point, they could see Parford Manor-an impressive four-story, five-winged affair, its brilliant windows glittering in the sunlight.

Over the past few months, he’d become accustomed to being gawked at.īehind him, his younger brother’s steed stamped and came to a halt. He could hear the hushed whispers of the farm children, who had crept out to gawk at him as he passed.

A small cottage stood to the side of the road. Stone walls and green hedges hugged the curves of the limestone hill where his horse stood, breaking the brilliant apple-green growth of high summer into gentle, rolling squares of patchwork. The estate he would inherit was laid out in the valley before him. Turner now, so long as fate stayed Parliament’s hand, the future Duke of Parford-sat back on his horse as he reached the crest of the hill. SO THIS WAS HOW IT felt to be a conquering hero.Īsh Turner-once plain Mr.

Unveiled by courtney milan