Page 43 of The Dare Before Christmas

Barnaby gaped. His aunt had never said such a thing in her life before. Truthfully, he’d always believed she considered him rather a twit.

“Close your mouth, dear,” she said, not unkindly.

“Yes, Aunt.”

“Secondly, you are not so far beneath her as you may think.”

Barnaby snorted.

Hester gave him the look, the one that could pierce a fellow to his innards, and Barnaby held his tongue.

“You, my boy, are my nephew, and I am soon to be the Duchess of Axton, you might remember.”

Barnaby smiled at her and shook his head. “That’s true, Aunt, and I’m very happy for you, but I don’t think Bedwin—”

“Hold your tongue when I’m speaking.”

Barnaby sighed.

“I’ve never discussed this with you, but when I came to London, I visited my solicitor here and changed my will. I’ve left you everything. I never did like your brothers. Dull, brutish fellows, and your father is an idiot. So, it’s all yours. You are the only one with an ounce of sense, and you’ve always been very sweet to me. You wrote regularly and never forgot my birthday, and you even made that terrible journey to visit me now and then. Such things mean a good deal to a lonely old widow. I’m afraid you’ll inherit the castle, for which you may not thank me, but your uncle left me well provided for, and I am far from penniless. It’s all yours when I’m gone, and not to be sneezed at.”

Barnaby gaped at her. “Aunt Hester,” he said, touched beyond words. “I… I don’t know what to say. I never expected, never dreamed—”

“I know you did not, Barnaby, and that’s why I shall give it to you. Your wretched brothers toady up to me when I’m in town, hoping I’ll leave them my money, but never once did they write, never once did they do anything for me. You are a good man, a kind one, and I wish to see you happily settled and well provided for. You love the lady, and it looks to me like she’s head over ears in love with you. So, perhaps you’ve not a great fortune, but you’ve a respectable living and an inheritance to look forward to. It’s enough to satisfy Bedwin, I assure you. All he wants is for Victoria to be happy, that I can promise you.”

Barnaby gave a choked laugh and got to his feet. He knelt before his aunt and took her hand, between his own. “I do not know how to thank you. Truly.”

Hester reached out and patted his cheek, her expression fond. “Be happy and don’t stop visiting. Especially when my great nephews and nieces arrive. I’d like to be a part of it, Barnaby. I never had children of my own, but you are the nearest thing I ever had to a son.”

“My word upon it,” Barnaby promised, feeling rather emotional. “You’ll be sick of the sight of us.”

Hester laughed, her eyes sparkling with delight and Barnaby got to his feet, rather dazed.

“There is one other thing,” Axton said. The duke got to his feet, facing Barnaby, his expression serious.

“Yes?” Barnaby standing as he turned to look at him, hoping the old goat wasn’t about to throw a spanner in the works.

“Well, Hester says you’re like a son to her and, seeing as you are her only male relation—the only one she wishes to claim, at least—then it seems we must arrange the marriage settlements.”

“Axton!” Hester exclaimed. “If you think you’ll touch the boy for a dowry at our time of life, you old skinflint—”

“Hester! A little credit, please,” the duke said, his expression reproachful.

Hester subsided. “I apologise, Alfie, dear. Go on.”

Barnaby was so startled by his aunt apologising he nearly missed what the duke said next.

“The marriage settlement,” the duke continued gravely. “I am not expecting a dowry, naturally. I lost any right to that for the way I mistreated the lady so many years ago, but bearing that in mind, I feel reparations ought to be made as they were not at the time. So, the amount that her dowry would have been—with interest, of course—assuming it had been properly invested over the past years, plus a generous amount gifted by me—which is only the smallest recompense for the trouble and pain I caused, I reckon—would come in around, shall we say, ten thousand pounds?”

Barnaby frowned at the duke. “Forgive me, your grace. I’m lost. Ten thousand pounds?”

“Yes, dear boy, and stuff all this ‘your grace’ nonsense. I’m to be your uncle by marriage. You may call me Alfred.”

“Er… very well, Alfred, but I still don’t understand,” Barnaby replied, completely at a loss.

“Ten thousand pounds. Is it enough, do you think?” the duke asked.

Barnaby turned to stare at his aunt, but she was gazing at the duke with an expression of adoration, one hand pressed to her mouth, the other to her heart. “Oh, Alfie, you dear, dear man.”