The silence stretched, and Hart had to tamp down his growing anger. Was his marriage really going to founder over such a ridiculous condition? Was it some kind of indirect attempt to get out of it at the last minute? Foxhunting was a fine sport, and it helped rid the country of vermin. He wouldn’t be blackmailed into giving it up.

After a while Ashendon coughed. “Perhaps we can reach a compromise.”

Hart raised his brow.

“What if foxhunting were banned on the estate you deed to George, and one other?”

She said nothing. Her chin was braced in a stubborn line. Her folded arms tightened.

“Come on, George,” Ashendon said in a coaxing voice. “Be reasonable. A man cannot be expected to give up all his pleasures.”

Her eyes flashed. “Pleasures?”

“Pastimes,” Ashendon corrected himself.

“I would be prepared to do that,” Hart said. “And to agree that no foxhunt will be held on any of my properties while you are there—whether visiting or residing.” He had a hunting box in Leicestershire, and he doubted she’d ever visit it. He’d make sure she didn’t.

“There you are, George,” Ashendon said. “It’s a handsome compromise. What do you say?”

She considered it for a long moment, then gave a grudging nod. “Very well, as long as you know that I will continue to oppose the horrid practice in any way I see fit.”

“Understood,” Hart said.

“Now, is there anything else on your list?” Ashendon asked her.

“No, that’s all,” she said, and sat back.

He raised his brow. Her conditions had mostly been about animals. Was that all she wanted?

She started to rise from her seat. “I have some conditions of my own,” Hart said. She stiffened and sat back down.

“We’ll start with the allowance . . .” He named a sum that was triple the one she’d asked for. Her jaw dropped.

“I am not marrying you for money,” she snapped.

He had no idea why she’d agreed to marry him, but he wasn’t going to question it. “The amount you suggested is paltry,” he said coldly. “I won’t have my duchess scrimping and saving.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but before she could speak, he continued, “I must insist on the right to conjugal visits.”

“Visits?” Ashendon queried with a frown. “You’re not planning to live together?”

“Naturally we shall cohabit until my duchess is with child. And after that, whenever I choose.”

“I reserve the right to refuse,” she said quickly.

He gave her a long look. “As long as consent is not unreasonably withheld.”

Ashendon raised a brow at that, but she gave a curt nod, and he wrote it down.

“Anything else?” Ashendon asked.