She imagined, for a foolish moment, what might have been if things were different. If she had been born with an unblemished name and a dowry. If Victor had not been raised by a man who turned love into a weapon. If she did not have a mother tethered to a cruel husband. If the world were kinder.
Perhaps she and Victor might have sat side by side on a different journey. Not lady and duke, not fugitive and escort, but equals. Partners. He might have pointed out some distant field that was his. She might have laughed and teased him about drainage or barley. They might have planned something together. A future.
The picture dissolved as quickly as the clouds, but reality remained.
Fenwick House would rise before them soon enough. Howard would sneer. Her mother would smile through fear. Victor would deposit her at the door like a parcel delivered safely. He would hand her back to the life she loathed.
She lifted her chin. She would walk into that house. She would endure. She would find another opening, another exit, when the time came.
Across from her, his quill scraped steadily on the page.
CHAPTER 23
The moment Gwen crossed the threshold of Fenwick House, she knew she had made a colossal mistake.
The door had barely clicked shut before Howard appeared in the entrance hall like a storm descending a mountainside. His hair was disheveled. His cravat hung askew. His eyes were blazing.
“There she is,” he roared. “The disgrace returns.”
Cordelia hurried out of the drawing room, pale and trembling. “Howard, please, do not shout. The servants will hear.”
“Let them hear,” he snarled. “Let the entire street hear. Your daughter has spent the night God knows where, doing God knows what, and you expect me to whisper?”
Gwen stood frozen, her breathing heavy, every excuse she had rehearsed evaporating into thin air. She had foolishly thought that the morning air would clear her mind. That she would findthe words on the carriage ride home. That something, anything, would come to her.
Nothing ever did.
And she cursed Victor for it. For leaving her at the front steps. For watching her disappear into this inferno without a word of support. For pretending that she meant nothing after holding her in his arms all night.
If he loved her, if any part of him cared, would he not be here now? At her side. Holding her hand. Defending her.
The thought was like acid in her throat.
Howard strode toward her, each step a threat. “Where have you been, Gwendoline? Where?”
Gwen lifted her chin. “I went for a ride.”
“All night?” Howard spat. “You expect me to believe that? You stagger in here with no chaperone and no shame!”
“I had a companion,” she lied.
“Oh,” he drawled. “Do you mean the man whose scent is all over your cloak?”
Her heart lurched.
Howdoes he know? Impossible. He is blustering. Guessing. It is pure chance that he touched the truth.
Still, her silence betrayed her.
Howard advanced until he stood inches away. “Who is he?”
Gwen swallowed. “No one you know.”
“Aha!” His mouth twisted. “You admit it.”
“I admit nothing,” Gwen snapped, her voice trembling with fury and humiliation. “Nothing at all.”
His face darkened. “You dare lie to me, after vanishing for an entire night without an escort. A lady does not wander about alone unless she is seeking the bed of a man.”
