“I will not be blackmailed by you,” she told him. “No one will believe you, should you make these accusations public.”
“I disagree, Duchess. My story is long and detailed. My stay at Coddington Hall was not a secret. What happened to me would have all the gossips salivating with the chance to spread the tale.”
“You would hurt your own son?” she demanded. “Why?”
He did not react to her question. Nary a flinch.
“He deserves to know his father.”
“His father is gone!” She could not quite contain the hysteria rising within her.
“Do not pretend that monster is his father.”
“You think I speak of Longleigh?” She shook her head. “I speak of Robin, the man I loved. The man who deceived me and left me without word.”
The man she had fallen in love with had been a lie. For so many agonizing nights she had lain awake, praying that Robin would somehow return to her.
She had never imagined this wretched homecoming.
“Do not dare to insult my intelligence, madam. We both know why I left without word. I had no goddamn choice in the matter.”
The bitterness in his voice was like the lash of a whip.
Her mind whirled. None of this made sense. For now, all she knew was that she had to get Mr. Hastings out of this room, out of her home. And then, out of her life, by whatever means she could. He could not have her son.
“You need to leave,” she told him, feeling utterly numb as the words left her.
“I’ve half a mind to return to the ballroom and all your guests and make an announcement.”
There was a veracity in his drawl, undeniable intent. She had no doubt he would do just that, if given half the chance. For the first time since she had unexpectedly seen him from across the crowded ballroom, it occurred to her that this man, whoever he truly was, was a danger to her. A danger to her son. A danger to her future. He was not the man she had loved; no traces of Robin lingered. If indeed the Robin she had known, loved, laughed with, and kissed had been real. It was entirely possible that all the time they had spent together, every vow they had made, had been nothing more than an elaborate ruse on his part to gain what he wanted.
She moved to the bellpull and gave it a sterner yank than necessary. If he would not go on his own, she would have him removed.
“You can have me tossed out by your servants if you like, Duchess.” His grimly amused voice was nearer than she liked.
She spun to find he had followed her, and he loomed over her now like a menacing shadow. “Do not think I will hesitate to do so. Indeed, since you have proven yourself to be an impostor, a criminal, and a liar who intends to extort a peeress of the realm, I ought to call for the police.”
She expected him to grow fearful at her threat, but instead, a slow, mocking smile curved the mouth that had once kissed her with such reverent tenderness.
What happened to you, Robin?
Was it all a lie?
She tamped down the desperate questions rising within her. Questions she could not ask. The answers no longer mattered. She had to protect her son, protect herself, her reputation.
“Call the police, Duchess. I have a tale to tell which will set them on their arses.”
A chill settled over her. He was not bluffing. Her heart cried out at the unfairness—the man she loved returned to her this vindictive, cruel stranger. She still could scarcely reconcile everything he had revealed to her, could not force her shocked mind to understand that the man eying her with such undisguised vitriol, the man determined to break her, was the same Robin who had kissed her so sweetly in the rowboat that long-ago summer day.
That he was the same man who had told her she was a goddess when they had walked in the gardens.
A knock sounded at the morning room door, shattering the stalemate between them.
“Go now,” she told him. “You are not welcome here, Mr. Hastings.”
How strange the name still felt on her tongue, like a lie.
But it was the truth.
