“You accept,” he barked. “You have no say in this. You will marry the Duke of Greystone, and you will be grateful for the offer. I will not have you ruin this chance, not after the havoc you have already wreaked.”
Gwen flinched but did not look away from Victor. “I have no doubt Howard will gain much from such a match. I am less confident that you will.”
“That is enough,” Howard growled. “You are a child. You are overwrought. This is what will happen. You will smile and curtsy and?—”
“Fenwick,” Victor bit out.
The single word sliced through Howard’s tirade. He turned, outraged. “What?”
Victor’s temper, held so tightly all morning, shifted. “You will refrain from shouting at her in my presence.”
“I will not,” Howard snarled.
“You will.” Victor took a deep breath. “And now, you will leave us alone.”
Howard stared at him. “Absolutely not.”
“I did not come to bargain with you,” Victor replied. “I came to speak with the woman I intend to marry, if she will have me. I will not discuss that with an audience. Not even her stepfather.”
Howard’s eyes narrowed. “I will not allow you to be alone with her again. Look where that has led us already.”
Victor stepped closer and lowered his voice, each word precise. “You will leave us in this room for ten minutes. You will stand outside the door if you insist. If you do not, I will walk out of this house and inform every gentleman I know that I no longer consider you fit company. I will make sure that your name is absent from every guest list you value. I will also add my own description of your behavior toward your wife and stepdaughter to the whispers that follow you. Do you wish to further test my patience?”
Howard’s jaw worked. Fury blazed in his eyes, but beneath it Victor saw calculation. The man valued standing too much to risk public censure from a duke.
“You would slander me,” Howard said.
“I would speak the truth,” Victor corrected. “Which would have the same effect.”
Gwen stood very still. Her gaze flitted between them, bewildered.
Howard’s hands clenched at his sides. For a moment, Victor thought he would refuse. Then, with obvious effort, he mastered himself.
“Ten minutes,” he allowed, biting off each syllable. “You will keep the door open and the maid in the corridor. If I hear so much as a raised voice…”
“You will hear nothing,” Victor said.
Howard shot Gwen a vicious look. “You ought to be on your knees, thanking him,” he scolded. “Instead, you behave like a spoiled child.”
She paled but did not answer.
Howard strode to the door, opened it, barked an order to the maid, then stepped out. The door remained ajar, as he had demanded, but his presence was gone from the room.
For the first time that morning, Victor and Gwen were truly alone.
The study felt different at once. The air shifted. The tension changed flavor.
Victor turned back to her. She looked as if she might bolt.
“Sit,” he said gently, nodding toward the chair opposite his.
She shook her head. “I prefer to stand.”
“Very well.” He took another deep breath. “You believe that I am standing here because of last night. Because I was caught on a carpet with you in my arms, and the ton will gleefully seize upon it. That is part of my duty, yes. I will not deny it. But it is not the reason I asked you to marry me.”
Gwen’s eyes glistened. “You need not lie to soothe my pride.”
“I have never lied to you,” he murmured. “I have been cruel, abrupt, arrogant, and blind, but I have not lied.”
