Eli’s blood ran to ice. He stood rooted at the entrance to the castle, unable to turn his legs about. There was no need to. Eli knew that voice as well as he knew the fury of the man it belonged to.
His father was here.
“Join me in my suite,” the marquess demanded. “Now.”
The more witnesses, the safer, had been his boyhood rule around his father, but Eli was the larger man now, had been so for years, and no longer feared his father’s violence.
In turn, the marquess had found countless new ways to twist the knife without lifting a finger.
“After you.” Eli followed him up the marble stairs in search of privacy.
Whatever the marquess had to say was not something Eli wished to be overheard.
His father’s suite was on the fifth floor, with a stunning vista that stretched for miles. The window was barely visible due to the retinue of servants cowering before it.
This wasn’t castle staff. These were familiar faces from the London town house. Maids, footmen, even an under-butler. Eli hadn’t been permitted his valet, yet the marquess—
Eli laughed to himself, startled. His valet wrung his pale hands on the other side of an even paler chambermaid. Eli hadn’t been allowed to bring his valet because the marquess had already poached him.
Just another of the fun little ways Father liked to prove his superiority.
“Let’s make this quick,” Eli said, knowing that failing to comment on his valet’s presence would rankle the marquess more than an argument. “Why are you here?”
“Make thisquick?” Father’s face empurpled. “You were supposed to befinishedby now. Harper said his daughter negotiated a ten-day reprieve, but it shouldn’t take that long to—”
“You’ve been corresponding with Mr. Harper?” Eli said in surprise.
“Someonehas to keep me informed, sinceyourletters are less than satisfactory. How difficult can this be, Elijah? If the chit won’t obey her father, just spread a little gossip. It’s simple.”
“No,” Eli said flatly. “Anything she does must be her decision.”
“You’d be the first man who thinks so,” the marquess scoffed. “And only a fool dares tellmeno.”
Eli sighed. “I’m honoring our agreement.”
“You’re dragging your feet,” his father snapped. “I’ll be watching from this window until the task is complete.”
Of course he would.
His father smirked. “At least you needn’t kiss her this time. That’s a relief, eh?”
Eli glared back in stony silence, biting back a retort. Claiming no wish to kiss Olive was a lie, but admitting he’d already done so would only give the marquess more kindling to use against her.
His father gestured toward a sideboard.
The entire retinue scrambled to prepare his glass of port.
“All you need is a ‘yes,” the marquess said as though he were speaking to a child, “so that you can say ‘no.’”
“I’m aware of the terms.” Eli had hated them then. He hated them even more now.
Father settled in a comfortable chair and raised his glass of port.
Eli stayed on his feet, port-less. He would not be staying long.
“Don’t ruin this,” his father warned. “I could not have devised better revenge.”
If only Mr. Harper had never sent that cursed offer of reconciliation!
