“I hope not.”

“He is not like his father.” At least, he tried not to be. She started toward the door, then stopped abruptly. Turning back to face him, she said, “I do have one question. What happens to my dowry if I don’t wed?”

“If you aren’t wed by the age of twenty-five, the funds will go to you.”

“Remind me, please, how much is it?”

“Six thousand pounds.”

Such an enormous sum! And just three years until it could be hers. Her birthday was in less than a week, and she would be twenty-two. Three years, and she could be a financially independent woman with an estate.

“I beg your pardon, but I suppose that was two questions and now I have a third. It is the last, I assure you.”

“Ask as many as you like.”

“Is there any way his lordship can retain Horethorne if he doesn’t wed?”

Dyer’s eye twitched. “I’m afraid not.”

The property was all but gone to him then. Unless he decided to actually kidnap someone to Gretna Green.

“Thank you, Mr. Dyer.” She inclined her head and left the study, her mind swimming with ideas and plans she hadn’t possessed a mere half hour ago. Her life was going to completely change, and she had Tobias’s tragedy to thank for it.

What a terrible, horrible mess.

Tobias stepped into the sitting room outside his bedchamber and froze. A figure lay upon the chaise angled near the fireplace. Quietly moving closer, his gaze moved from the pale green blanket covering the person’s lower half up to the thick dark red braid that seemed to glow in the light of the low fire.

Fiona’s back was to him, but there was no mistaking the hair. Or the gentle slope of her shoulder and the dip of her waist. He let his eyes feast on the curve of her backside. It was impudent of him, but she’d come into his domain. She had to expect he would at least look.

What the devil was she even doing here? Had she come to rekindle last night’s madness? He could not let that happen. His best course of action would be to ignore her and go straight to his bedchamber. Except if someone found her asleep in here…

Hell. It was fortunate no one had discovered her yet.

He had to wake her. Stepping closer, he inhaled the unmistakable scent of lavender. Of Fiona. Of temptation and promise.

“Fiona,” he whispered. When she didn’t stir, he repeated her name but louder. Still no movement.

He reached for her shoulder, his fingertips grazing along her upper arm. “Fiona,” he said more firmly.

She rolled toward him, her eyes closed. A soft sigh escaped her parted lips, and Tobias was nearly overwhelmed with longing. She blinked, her lashes fluttering, before her dark gaze settled on him, narrowed at first and then widening slightly.

“My lord,” she said, pushing up to a sitting position. “I must have dozed off.”