The Madcap Marriage by Allison Lane

letter. “ I have replaced Ridley as steward, due to continuing incompetence . Your own records show that Ridley doubled Audley’s income after I hired him three years ago. How could you accept this slander without an investigation?  You should have questioned my intelligence for even suggesting such a change!”
    “Where is Ridley now?” asked Rafe.
    “God knows. Steven turned him off without a reference because he insisted on speaking with me. He knew that Father would never have allowed Steven on the property. Since then, Steven has drained the estate accounts.” She pulled out another letter. “This forgery demands that you send the quarterly trust payments to a new bank.”
    Carstairs blanched.
    Rafe shook his head. “Another nonsensical order you didn’t question.”
    “It was a reasonable request,” stammered Formsby. “We had remonstrated with Sir Arthur many times for trusting a provincial bank. It was one of the few changes Miss St. James made that we wholly approved.”
    Helen snorted. “Harold’s may be provincial, but Mr. Harold would never execute an order he hadn’t verified,” she snapped icily. “If you are typical of London bankers, then it’s time to move my trust to Harold’s. I cannot remain subject to such incompetence.”
    Rafe watched as three red-faced trustees struggled to explain their oversight. They had clearly thought Sir Arthur befuddled for leaving a lady in charge of Audley.
    Any suspicions he’d entertained in that direction disappeared as he listened to her catechism. She had a firm grasp of what should have been done and a firmer grasp of who was at fault in the affair. Every time someone tried to sidestep guilt, she pounced. In minutes, their attempts to explain their behavior turned them into gibbering idiots.
    It seemed that Fate had provided him with a wife remarkably close to his ideal – the backbone and vivacity his mother had displayed, Alquist’s intelligence and acumen, more passion than any mistress… 
    The passion was obvious as she strode restlessly about, flinging questions at her trustees. Every turn plastered her skirt against those long, long legs, reminding him how she’d rubbed against him in bed last night. His hands recalled the weight of her breasts and the smoothness of her skin. His body tightened as it remembered her ardent explorations. If he used her passion to attach her affections, perhaps they could find a solution to her wealth – maybe endow a benevolent society with it.
    But first he must win her trust. Hillcrest’s damned announcement had made her wary.
    You are also wary.
    He frowned. He had long admired his mother’s backbone and sworn his wife would also stand up for herself. Yet at the same time, he’d expected his wife to accept his decisions without complaint. Only now did he see the conflict between those ideals. And it was the first one that would cause trouble. Her determination could so easily turn against him. He could not tolerate a marriage filled with dissention. Nor could he tolerate a wife who tried to rule him. Rather than fight, he would have to live in town. Alone.
    It was not the future he had envisioned, but he might have no choice.
    Yet it was early days to walk away. He must give marriage a chance, though he would guard his heart against any attachment. If she turned into a tyrant, he could not afford pain.
    It ought to be easy – shielding his heart had never been a problem before. But Helen was different. Already, she’d enticed him more than any female in years. So he must be very careful.
    He tore his eyes from her form and concentrated on the meeting.
    “Lord Alquist was quite upset about Sir Steven,” Formsby was saying. “He called three weeks ago, demanding answers to the oddest questions.”
    “Yet you did nothing?”  Helen’s voice could have cut glass.
    “We agreed to conduct an audit, but we’ve not had time to arrange it,” said Mr. Goddard. He had taken over for the trust’s