He paused. Felicity wilted beneath Ash’s stare, and it wasn’t even directed at her.
“After your sister’s birthday, you will go to Brackenridge Hollow. I have some horses being worked with that are not fit for traveling yet. You will assist the stable master with their rehabilitation and with the managing of the estate until the horses are ready to be brought here. It is time you learned the meaning of hard work, of respect. Of decency.”
A weight lifted from Felicity’s shoulders as she stared at a gaping, incredulous Colborn.
She was free.
A delirious warmth infused her, filled every crevice of her being, soft and gently buzzing.
Free.
Colborn sputtered. “Y-you cannot think I will willingly go to Brackenridge Hollow. It’s in the middle of bloody fucking nowhere in the Yorkshire Moors. You cannot decide after five-and-twenty years you want to be a father and order me around.”
She frowned. Well, that seemed oddly telling. It appeared Colborn cared more about his exile than he did about the end of their betrothal. He hadn’t even mentioned it in his complaint. And she was thrilled—truly thrilled that it was over—but Colborn’s response didn’t do much for her pride.
Anger prickled over her skin, itchy and annoying. He would have made her life a living hell, and he didn’t even truly care about her? God, she wanted to slug him across the face. She should have put him in a headlock. That was a woman’s lot, though, wasn’t it? They were tossed around at men’s wills, interchangeable, as plentiful as bloody pebbles.
Ash’s lips pressed tight together, and he drew a sharp breath through his nose.
“You forget who is the Duke here, son. You forget who holds all the power. If you don’t do as I say, I will cut you off.”
He lifted his chin, studying Colborn, measuring him. And his expression conveyed everything. He found his son lacking.
“It will be simple, really. I will pull strings, and you won’t be able to set foot in any of your favorite haunts. No place will accept you. Any debts you build up, any scrapes you get yourself in, will no longer magically disappear.” He snapped his fingers.
“You will be going to Brackenridge Hollow. You do not have a choice. Don’t flatter yourself in thinking you do. I have been soft on you for too long. I have failed you as a father. I am fixing that now. It is time you become a man.”
He stepped up to Felicity, his gaze taking in every inch of her. He spoke to his son, but his eyes never left her. “Now, I am going to escort Felicity to her chamber, because there is no way in hell I will leave her alone in your company again. You will go directly to my study and wait for my return.”
He rested a hand on her back to encourage her toward the door. She sucked in a breath as his hand pressed against the spot where she had collided with the sideboard. His entire body stiffened, and a low snarl ripped from him.
He shifted his hand to grip her waist and turned back to Colborn. “You best pray she does not need a doctor for your transgressions, son.”
Felicity turned with Ash and let him guide her from the library, leaving her fiancé slumped against the wall and gawking at his change in fate.
Not fiancé.
Formerfiancé.
24
Ash
AshfollowedFelicityintoher chambers and quietly shut the door behind him. She took a few steps into her room and turned to face him. She tilted her head, studying him.
He leaned against the door and did the same. Her cheeks were flushed, but otherwise she didn’t seem to be overly upset about his son’s rough handling of her.
Ash couldn’t say the same for himself. Something ugly pumped through his veins. His son haddaredtoput his hands on Felicity. He ground his teeth and rolled his shoulders, trying to fight back the tension climbing like an untamable vine up his frame. He had never become consumed by such uncontrolled rage in his life.
“Are you well, Ash?”
His eyebrows flew up. “Am I well?” He looked around the room. “AmIwell? My son just threw you to the ground. He wasviolenttoward you. He had every intention of, at the very least, coercing you into bed with him. To push you until you finally acquiesced. And if you didn’t, would he force you? It sure as bloody hell seemed like it back there. So, while, no, I am not well, the true question is areyouwell?”
In two strides he was before her, cupping her face, searching her eyes for any hint of—he didn’t know—fear? Distress? Anxiety? But there was nothing but calm surety.
“I am well, Ash. Dealing with your son is nothing new. Or do you forget I was betrothed to him for four years?”
“Are you…Are you saying he has been violent with you before?” The words came out high-pitched and strangled. Strangled like what he wanted to do to his son as soon as he got to his study. “This is normal behavior for him?” How had he let Colborn become so bad as to turn into what he saw down in the library?
