flickered, and I noticed it came from a few candles and a fireplace.
"Is this my house?" I asked, curious as to my living situation, especially if I was heiress to a large fortune. Plus I needed information, any type of information.
"Yes! It's a beautiful home situated just on the edge of Hyde Park on Mayfair. This home has been in your family for generations and is only part of your holdings. You also have a country home near Bath."
"Wow," I whispered, feeling overwhelmed and also thankful I wasn't lost and destitute. "Who is the marquess you referred to earlier?" I remembered her mentioning his title and was curious. Why would she imply that I orchestrated a fall to gain his attention? This is so confusing!
"Ah, the Marquess of Ashby." Her eyes twinkled, and she smiled secretively, piquing my curiosity further. "Mr. Morgan Ansley, the marquess of Ashby has caught your fancy for some time now, Jocelyn. I about swooned myself when I saw him carry you in. Handsome, that one, and acts so heroic. Why if he were about twenty five years younger...." She gazed at the fire and sighed heavily with a wistful smile. I cleared my throat delicately, and she seemed to remember herself. "But when you didn't stir I became concerned and all but ignored him and the Dannberry’s in seeing to you, Jocelyn. I do hope Wains took care of them. Wouldn't want to offend any of them, especially the Ansleys’…regardless of their financial situation." She shook her head soberly.
"Financial situation?" I asked, wondering why that would have any effect on how they were treated.
"Indeed! The Ansleys are an old, titled family, good people. But a bit…" She paused as if trying to be delicate in her wording. "…light in the purse, you might say."
"They're poor?" I asked, curious.
"Oh, no, not poor." She frowned. "Just not as well off as someone such as yourself," she added, giving me a meaningful look.
I lowered my chin and raised my eyebrows in question. "Meaning?"
With a shake of her head she sat down on the bed next to me and explained, "Meaning that as much as the marquess may find you enticing, dear, he's never approached you before today because although he's titled, he's not one to marry for money."
"And that's what people would think?" How depressing.
"Of course. Happens all the time." She spoke as if the idea of not marrying for money was unheard of.
"Then why would he be against it? If it happens all the time, why would he have avoided me since I'm supposed to be an heiress of some sort?" As the wheels turned, I had an idea. "I'm not titled," I interjected before Mrs. Trimbleton could answer. "That's the reason. Right?" Wait a minute; I don't even know this man. Why am I asking these questions!
"No, Miss, you're not titled, but that wouldn't stop most anyone from seeking your hand, or fortune for that matter. But the Marquess of Ashby wouldn't pursue your attentions because he's one of the few good ones. His parents… ah." Her expression softened, and I prepared for a good story. "His parents, that was a love match if I ever saw one. Married a month after meeting, and not because they had to, either." She gave me a stern look. "Neither family had much of a fortune to speak of. Took a bit of criticism from their respective families, but stayed strong. Married at Gretna Green, was quite the scandal."
Her eyebrows lifted, and she smiled. "But I'm getting off track. To answer your question…" She tilted her head and smoothed the blankets around me. "The Marquess won't pursue just anyone now. He's had his eye on you, or so the gossip says, but from what you and I have discussed, the idea of him pursuing you is difficult because, well…" Would she ever get to the point? "Because he'd be afraid you'd think he was after your money, like so many others, and he'd rather not have you at all than you think him a fortune hunter."
"Oh." I hadn't expected that, but the thought warmed me from the inside out. No wonder I had a crush on this guy. "And you said he carried me home?" I asked again, just to make sure.
"Yes." She nodded emphatically.
My head began to pound with a fierce intensity from the overload of information. I hadn't had enough time to process it. Leaning back, I closed my eyes and rested for a while. The room