Wicked Nights With a Lover (The Penwich School for Virtuous Girls #3)(14)

The sounds from his gaming hell floated from below stairs. The buzz of conversation, laughter, the occasional shout from a victor, all acted as a balm to his nerves. Even though he owned a grand townhouse in the City, he stayed at Hellfire, craving the sounds, the smells. His townhouse sat a lonely shell across the river, shrouded in silence. Only solitude and thoughts best left alone awaited him there.

His attention drifted back to Mary. She was talking, he realized. “They’re all supposed to be under his roof together. Grier arrived over a week ago. A nice-enough girl, if not a bit outspoken. Another arrived just yesterday and another is supposed to show up this afternoon. Only that one’s not staying as the other two are … that’s why he’s throwing together a little soiree tonight. He’s hoping to convince the new one to stay for the grand event.”

Three? The randy old goat had fathered three daughters?

“That a fact?” Ash dragged a hand though his too-long hair, watching Mary rise and begin to dress, his mind churning over the implications of what this development could mean for him. His partner suddenly had heirs. Three, to be exact.

“Reminds me that I need to get back,” Mary muttered. “There’s much to do. He wants everything spotless. He expects at least a dozen to attend …”

“A dozen … who?”

She shrugged. “Some fine gents, I hear. Real bluebloods.”

The hairs on Ash’s neck began to stand as he watched her shimmy into her gown. “What scheme has he concocted?”

“He ain’t saying, but Grier can’t keep her tongue behind her teeth.”

“And what has this Grier said?”

Mary looked over her shoulder as if she expected the great Jack Hadley to materialize behind her. He was that way. Larger than life, an intimidating figure to many.

“Well … she thinks he’s got it in his head to marry them off to some bluebloods. All three of them. Any swell will do, so long as his blunt has run dry and he’s desperate enough to marry a bastard daughter of Jack Hadley.”

“Bloody hell.” He shook his head. “Why would any swell want to—”

Mary waved a hand about her fiercely. “For this, of course. All of it. The mine, the factory …”

Cold washed through Ash’s veins. Of course. For everything he had worked so hard for.

It all came together then. He understood why Jack suddenly wished to claim the daughters he’d seen fit to forget. He wanted what they could bring him. Prestige. A door to the glittering world of the ton. The sneering aristocrats would have to welcome him into their drawing rooms if his daughters married men among their ranks. His hand curled into a fist at his side.

Mary must have seen something in his face. An uneasy look drifted across her features. She drew out his name on a heavy breath. “Ash.”

“I’ve made this this,” he said tightly, motioning to his elegant suite. “The hells were nothing before me. And the mine? The factory? It was my idea to invest—”

“I know, I know,” Mary soothed.

“He means to hand over what is rightfully mine to some lily-handed prigs who suck up the nerve to marry his bastards?”

“Well, they are his heirs, Ash,” Mary pointed out. “And their future husbands have a right—”

“Just because Jack shagged these chits’ mothers doesn’t give their future husbands the right to claim all I’ve worked for! All I have built!” His chest lifted on a deep breath.

“What can you do about it? You’re partners. If Jack gives each of his princesses a share of all he owns, it’s his right.”

“Princesses,” Ash sneered and shook his head in disbelief. Jack Hadley had thieved, cheated, and murdered his way to the top. Everyone knew it. His daughters were no princesses.

“At least a dozen bluebloods will be in attendance tonight. Grier let it slide that one of them is even a real duke.” She snorted. “Can you imagine that? A duke? Dining with ol’ Jack Hadley. Maybe even becoming his kin?” She laughed.

And taking what is mine? The factory? The mine? The hells? All that Ash had in this world. “No,” he bit out past his teeth. “I can’t imagine.”

And he couldn’t. He didn’t want to believe that the man who had taken him under his wing would discard him for a gaggle of females he’d never even met—daughters or not. After plucking Ash off the streets and giving him his start, how could he not consider Ash in any of this?

“Well, I’m off.” Mary pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Wait a moment,” he murmured from chilled lips. “I’ll drive you home.”

“Oh.” She arched her eyebrow, the look in her blue eyes decidedly wary. “You’re not going to start any trouble, are you? I’ve no wish to get scolded for talking out of turn.”

“Jack won’t give you a thought,” Ash assured her. “I’m coming,” he said flatly.

He’d hear it from Jack’s own lips that while he viewed Ash as a son, he didn’t consider him good enough to be his heir … good enough to inherit all that he’d built for the two of them. Jack instead preferred for his share of wealth and property to go to a trio of blueblooded dandies with nothing but birth and rank to their credit. Oh, and marriage to Jack’s bastard princesses.