“Fenwick,” Victor boomed. “Release her at once!”
Howard did not turn around. “This is a family matter, Greystone. Stay out of it.”
The fury in Victor’s silence prickled over her skin even with her back turned.
She did not know what would happen next. She only knew that every step she took toward the carriage felt like a step toward an abyss.
Howard almost flung her at the carriage. “Inside,” he ordered. “At once.”
Gwen braced her hands on the doorframe. He raised his hand.
The simple, familiar motion turned her blood to ice.
He was going to do it again. Here, in the open, in front of the Greystone staff. They would pretend not to see. The night would swallow the sound.
His arm tensed… right as a shadow moved between them.
Victor.
He came from the side, fast like a storm hitting shore. His hand closed around Howard’s wrist before it could descend.
“I told you to release her,” he growled.
Howard wrenched his arm back, furious. “Unhand me. She is my responsibility, not yours.”
Gwen could feel Victor’s proximity like heat at her back. He did not touch her, but he stood close enough that she could sense the space he occupied, solid and unyielding.
“Your responsibility is not a license to strike her in my drive,” he retorted. His voice carried, level and clear, in the cold air.
“And what would you know of responsibility toward a woman?” Howard sneered. “You compromise her in your own study and now pretend outrage when I discipline her?”
A murmur rose from the servants clustered near the entrance. One of the grooms failed to mask his disgust.
Victor’s jaw tightened. “You will not lay a hand on her again tonight.”
“Or what?” Howard challenged.
Victor’s fist connected with Howard’s jaw in a clean, brutal arc. The heavycrackwas sickening and deeply satisfying all at once, hanging in the winter air.
Howard staggered backward, his eyes wild, his hand flying to his face as if it were the very first time he had ever been hit, let alone in the face. He nearly slipped on the edge of the cobblestone and righted himself only by clutching the carriage lantern.
Gwen stared, stunned. She had never seen Victor lose control in such a manner. His violence had always been rumor, not reality.
He stood very still now, his breathing even, his eyes narrowed, every muscle and sinew coiled.
“If I see even one hair missing from her head when I call on your house tomorrow,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous, “you will regret it.”
Howard’s face mottled with rage. “You strike me outside my carriage, in front of my servants, and threaten me in my position as her guardian?”
“Yes,” Victor snarled. “And I will do it again if you do not heed me.”
“Do you think I will not answer you?” Howard snarled, clenching his fists. For a moment, Gwen thought he would launch himself at Victor.
Victor did not back away. In fact, he took a menacing step forward.
Their gazes locked. Pride and fury and rank battled silently.
Then Howard exhaled through his teeth, slow and venomous. “Very well,Your Grace. If you wish to involve yourself in my family, you shall have your opportunity. You had better be at Fenwick House tomorrow.”
