“He defended you in front of half the servants,” Howard cut in. “He assaulted me in his own drive for your sake. He has invited you to his house, singled you out by name, and compromised you in his own study. Trust me, child, this is precisely how such things begin.”
“He did not compromise me,” Gwen protested.
Howard snorted. “No one will believe that, least of all Greystone. He knows his duty. He will call tomorrow. When he does, I will make certain he leaves with a clear understanding of what is expected. You will be a duchess before the Season is out.”
Gwen’s head spun. She stared out the window. The night blurred into streaks of black and grey.
This was not how she had wanted the night to unfold. Not like this. Not by being dragged yet again into a bargain between men. Not by being used as a token to be exchanged for prestige and money.
She had dreamed, in foolish moments, of Victor wanting her for who she was. Wanting her because he could not bearnotto.
Now, Howard wanted to twist whatever feelings Victor had into something ugly. Something transactional. A victory scored at a table Gwen had never asked to sit at.
“I wish I had never come tonight,” she whispered.
Howard chuckled. “You say that now, but you will change your mind when you see your new house. Rosewood is quite fine, I hear. Far finer than anything a little governess’s wage would have purchased you.”
She closed her eyes.
Governess. Freedom. Her aunt’s house. A modest life of work and peace. It had seemed possible in the darkness of the inn. But now, it seemed very far away.
Regret clawed at her. Regret for the letter in Victor’s pocket. Regret for every kiss, every confession, every soft word that had tied her heart to his.
She had dragged him into this mess. She knew it. If she had left him alone after the first night, if she had never gone to his house, if she had not fallen in love with him, he would not now be staring down the barrel of Howard’s greed.
She would not let him pay for her choices. Not if she could help it.
Howard stared at her with self-satisfied indulgence. “You will be charming tomorrow, do you understand? You will curtsy prettily. You will keep your eyes lowered. You will let me speak for you. You will do precisely as I say.”
Gwen did not answer. Her mind had already drifted ahead, past the shouting, past the threats, past the sickening notion of being sold.
Victor would come tomorrow. She would find a way to free him from this snare. Even if it meant binding herself more tightly in his place.
She pressed her fingers to the cold glass and watched her reflection blur.
I am sorry, Victor, she thought fiercely, as if he might somehow hear her.I will make this right.
CHAPTER 28
Victor had never cared for mirrors, but if one had been placed before him that night, he suspected he would not have recognized the man he saw.
He sat in his study, coat discarded, cravat loosened, hands still faintly bruised across the knuckles. The fire had burned low, casting restless shadows over the bookcases. A decanter of brandy stood at his elbow, barely touched.
Roderick lounged in the opposite chair, watching him over the rim of his glass. “You keep looking at your hand,” he observed. “Is it injured, or are you simply astonished it functions as a fist?”
Victor flexed his fingers. “I struck a man in my own drive.”
“Yes,” Roderick said. “A man who was about to hit a woman in front of your house. You may embroider the story in whatever direction pleases you, but that particular stitch is quite clear.”
Victor ignored the jest. His mind echoed with his mother’s voice, with the murmur in the hall, with Howard’s expression as he staggered backward, and above all with the startled look on Gwen’s face as it all unfolded.
“He is her guardian,” he grunted. “I had no right to lay hands on him.”
Roderick snorted. “He had no right to lay hands on her. That did not seem to trouble him.”
Victor stared into the fire. “This is precisely what they say about me. That I am violent. That I am my father’s son. Today, I proved them right.”
“Did you drag her out into the drive?” Roderick asked. “Did you raise your hand to her? Did you threaten a woman smaller and weaker than you for the crime of existing in your presence?”
