Page 79 of Stolen By the Heartless Duke

Jane blinked once. “What?”

He gestured vaguely toward the corridor. “There are debts. Expenses. Maintenance costs. Your brother left things… less than organized.”

Jane’s hands curled at her sides. “Colin did notleavethingsunorganized. He is missing.”

“Yes,” Zachary said lightly. “And in his absence, someone must ensure the estate does not collapse entirely.”

Jane stepped closer to him. “By selling our belongings?”

“By liquidating non-essential assets,” he corrected.

A second footman passed behind them carrying a silver candelabra, one Jane remembered from the dining room during her father’s lifetime. She felt something sharp twist in her chest.

“That belonged to my father,” she said quietly.

Zachary glanced at it without emotion. “And now it belongs to the estate.”

“Itisthe estate,” Jane snapped.

Zachary exhaled as though indulging a child. “Jane. Do try to understand. Sentiment does not pay debts.”

Her voice rose. “You are not ‘the estate.’”

“I am its steward,” he said smoothly.

“That is temporary.”

“Not if the finances continue as they are.”

Jane stared at him, disbelief hardening into anger. “You cannot just take things from this house.”

“I am not taking them,” Lord Zachary replied. “I am ensuring they are used wisely.”

A third item passed. This one was much heavier and slower to move. A writing desk. Jane’s breath caught.

She knew that desk. She had watched her father write at it when she was a child, leaning over the edge while he signed letters and pretended she wasn’t deliberately distracting him. He had let her “help” by handing him seals and ink blotters she inevitably misplaced.

Something about seeing it carried away made her throat tighten.

“No,” she said sharply.

Lord Zachary raised an eyebrow. “No?”

“Thatdoes not leavethishouse.”

“It is already leaving,” he said.

Jane moved forward instinctively, but Zachary lifted a hand. Not touching her, but stopping her all the same.

“Do not make this difficult,” he said.

“Thisisdifficult,” she shot back. “You are dismantling my home.”

“It’s not yours, Jane. It’smine,” he corrected.

Jane let out a short, humorless laugh. “You have lived here for what, days? Weeks? And you already think you can decide what happens to it?”

“I am saving it from ruin,” he said calmly.