“It's just a game, isn't it?" Before Ellen could protest, Robert took her in his arms and planted a kiss on her lips. That should have been enough, but the problem was that he went deeper.
He wasn't nearly as good a kisser as Edmund. Not even close. Then it occurred to her he was kissing her longer than he should, and when she tried to pull away, his grip on her tightened.
Ellen struggled.
He increased his grip.
A roar. "Let go of my wife, you cur!" Suddenly she was released. A thud echoed through the room, and Robert sprawled on the floor, stunned.
Everyone jumped up.
"It's only a game, Tewkbury," Dobberham began.
"This game ends here," Edmund snarled. "He took advantage of the situation. I saw it."
"Nonsense." Robert touched his eye as he got up. "She enjoyed it."
"I most certainly did not!" Ellen gasped.
Edmund swung his fist and hit the other eye. Robert staggered backwards and nearly crashed into the fireplace.
"The devil!" Robert gasped. "This is too much." His eyes were blood-shot, and red marks appeared immediately.
"I demand satisfaction!" Edmund would have thrown himself at the man on the spot, but Dobberham came between them.
"Nonsense. Edmund, stop it now." Dobberham pulled him away. "What on earth has got into you? This is only a game, and I'm not having duels and bloodshed at my house party." He lowered his voice. "He's not worth it."
"No duels." Ellen grabbed Edmund's arm. "Let's just go home. Please. Now."
Edmund stared at her pale face, then gave a curt nod.
He took her hand, and they walked to the door.
"There they go, Lord and Lady Tewkbury." Robert's voice broke the silence. He scrambled to his feet. "I'm surprised you married her at all, my lord. She hasn't told you, has she?"
Edmund stopped and turned, while Ellen stood by helplessly, watching the fiasco unfold.
"Of course she hasn't. She's got you caught up in her web of lies and deceit. Not just you, Tewkbury. All of you." He turned to his audience.
"You are making serious accusations against one of my guests, Mattick. I won't have that." Dobberham's forehead glistened with sweat.
"Pray, elaborate. What do you mean?" Lady Cynthia's eyes widened in mock horror.
"Let's go. Don't listen to him." Ellen tugged at Edmund's arm.
But Edmund had turned to Robert with a snarl. "Yes, please tell us what you mean, so I can run you through with my foil."
Robert pointed a finger at her. "She's not who she says she is. Miss Ellen Robinson, the prim and proper schoolmistress, claims that her stepfather is Jacob Robinson, the famous author and poet. She has even taken his name. It's a fine Banbury tale indeed. You all believed it, didn't you?"
All eyes shifted from Robert to Ellen. She felt their glances hit her like stinging, fiery arrows.
Ellen felt a chasm open before her and wished she could throw herself into it.
"She's neither prim nor proper, and her name isn't Miss Ellen Robinson, because her father, step or otherwise, isn't Jacob Robinson."
"Oh dear," said Lady Cynthia happily.
"The lady before you is Mary-Ellen Gordon, the infamous daughter of the sixth Viscount Blackshurst." Robert shrugged. "She's considered soiled goods, although I suppose that doesn't matter now that she's established herself with Tewkbury to cover it all up. I was once engaged to her, but decided to call it off when I found out about her sordid past."
