It tore at him that she dared not count on him beyond an insignificant wardrobe. Did she think he would simply abandon her?
Blessed saints, he wanted her in his life forever. She was nothing like Lady Albin. That woman was maliciously smug and enjoying Cherish’s downfall.
Reggie stepped forward. “I could marry you, Cherish.”
She gasped and glanced in dismay at Margaret, who now looked as though someone had shoved a sword through her heart. The poor girl was about to burst into tears. “Yes,” Margaret said, her lips quivering and tears forming in her eyes, “it is right that you must. Cherish is our friend and needs to be protected.”
“No, Reggie,” Cherish said with determination. “You deserve someone whose heart lights up for you.” She gave Margaret a hug. “I will not marry him when it is obvious he deserves someone as fine as you.”
Gawain sighed. Yes, that little peahen, Margaret, truly adored his nephew. Even he, as thickheaded as he was and resistant to matters of love and marriage, had noticed how much the sweet girl cared for Reggie. Nor had it escaped his notice that Reggie was growing to care for her. Perhaps it was not an all-consuming love yet, but Margaret’s genuine adulation was bringing out the better part of his nephew, and Gawain liked what he had been seeing these past few days.
To his dismay, Fellstone stepped forward next. “Lady Cherish…”
“Oh, no. You too?” She shook her head with vehemence, then winced and put a hand to her temple. “You cannot want me when you have no idea what sort of dowry I will bring to our marriage or whether my toad of an uncle will ever release it without a legal battle. And honestly, do you really want to be connected in any way to him and his equally wretched wife?”
Fellstone grimaced and stepped back into the crowd.
Gawain knew Fellstone was not a bad sort, but he was in need of a wife with substantial funds and could not afford the luxury of falling in love with someone who might turn out to be poor.
Lord Northam’s mouth curled into an ugly sneer. Unable to get at Cherish, since Gawain still blocked him, the fool attempted to punch Gawain again. He easily avoided the blow and twisted Northam’s arm behind his back with enough force to bring the wretched fellow to his knees again. “Stay down,” he commanded, angry with himself for making a bungle of the entire incident.
He should have gone downstairs upon first hearing Northam’s bellows, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, and hauled him out of the house before allowing him to utter another word. But Cherish would have come down with him, barefoot and indecently dressed, for everyone to ogle.
Now, they were surrounded by every last one of Fiona’s guests, who had listened in as Northam debased and utterly humiliated Cherish. “Stay down or I will beat you senseless. Your brains will make quite a splat on Lady Shoreham’s lovely Florentine marble floor.”
Her uncle began to squeal like a pig as he squirmed and yelped and tried to escape his grasp, but Gawain was stronger and would not let him up, for he had reached his limit of patience.
Fiona’s guests began to laugh and cheer, for the vile creature was finally getting his due.
But Cherish was not laughing. In truth, she appeared on the verge of tears.
It was bad enough Margaret was crying, but did Cherish have to cry, too?
Someone in the crowd urged Gawain to beat up her uncle. Cherish’s eyes rounded in alarm as others began to urge the same. “Your Grace, you must not!”
He glanced at her. “Why not? Does he not deserve it? Are you sure you do not want me to do it and rid you of this pesky problem?”
She gasped. “Perhaps I dream of it, but only in jest. You cannot harm him.”
“Even after he spoke to you the way he did?” He cast Northam a lethal glance, eager to tear this man apart limb from limb. “Cherish, no one has the right to treat you in this manner.”
“I know, but you will only have trouble piled on you if you hurt him.”
“If you think I am going to stand by while he mistreats you, then you had better think again. Is this how he always talks to you?”
“No, he’s never bellowed at me like this before. Truly, this is something new.” She inched closer to stand by his side. “Buthe’s… I don’t know why he is behaving this way, quite frankly. One would think he was afraid to have me leave him. But I assure you, he and his wife would not care if I dropped dead in front of them tomorrow.”
“But they would care if you married tomorrow. Is that not so, Northam? I saw how you blanched when my nephew and Lord Fellstone stepped forward.”
Her uncle attempted to grab her again, but Gawain still had him pinned and merely jerked on his arm to keep him down. He then ordered Fiona’s footmen to take him and hold him, which they did with renewed zeal. “Northam, Lady Cherish is no longer yours. You are never to touch her or come near her without her permission, or you shall find yourself dealing with me.”
“Who are you to stop me?” her uncle hissed. “I am her guardian.”
“And I am Bromleigh.Bromleigh,” Gawain said in a roar, as though his name alone could send a shiver through the loathsome man.
“You shall never have her,” he hissed again. “I will never give my consent to a marriage.”
Cherish laughed. “He is a Silver Duke. They do not marry.”
