Camden took confident strides across the room until he reached Lord Chesterfield. He placed a firm hand on his shoulder, causing him to flinch. “Not now,” Camden said in a stern tone. “Phoebe is waiting outside, and she needs her father.”
Lord Chesterfield’s eyes narrowed as he let out a heavy exhale. He glared at Graham, then said, “Be in my office in thirty minutes.”
Graham’s stomach churned, his pulse racing as he met Phoebe’s father’s gaze. Graham gave a resolute nod, and said, “As you wish.”
Lord Chesterfield’s fingers unclenched from Graham’s jacket, and he narrowed his eyes at Camden. His face burned with anger as he stormed out of the cozy cottage, slamming the door behind him.
Nine
Graham circled his finger around the edge of his brandy glass. Lord Chesterfield would arrive at any moment, and he well knew the price the man would demand—marriage.
It was expected of any gentleman who ruined a lady—and he had well and truly ruined Phoebe. He brought the glass to his lips, then took a long drink.
No, Graham had not crossed the line of no return. His hands had roamed her body, his lips had grazed hers, but he had stopped before taking her virtue. A glimmer of hope remained that he could still escape the shackles of marriage.
His determination rose at the thought. She remained chaste, and he would damn sure remain unwed. He would stand firm. Make sure Lord Chesterfield understood that there was no reason to force a wedding.
So long as everyone kept quiet, no one outside of their group would ever know what had happened. Phoebe’s reputation would remain above reproach, and he would stay out of the parson’s noose.
She could go on with her life and find a suitable and deserving husband. He could return to London, or seek refuge at his country estate. It was the best solution for everyone involved.
Standing, Graham downed the brandy, then moved to the sideboard and refilled the glass. A bit of liquid courage would go a long way—or at least he hoped it might. For he would undoubtedly need fortification to face down her father and bring the man around to his way of thinking.
The clock on the mantle chimed, and Graham turned to look at the hour. Precisely thirty minutes had passed. Graham took a deep drink, then pivoted and took a step toward his chair. He stilled when the door opened and Lord Chesterfield strolled in with Camden and Alex flanking his sides.
Where the devil had Alex come from? Graham’s stomach rolled. This did not bode well. Graham met his cousin’s gaze. “Alex, I was not expecting you.”
“Daphne and I arrived this morning, but that hardly signifies considering what you have done.” Alex walked to the sideboard and poured himself a tumbler. “You are going to marry Phoebe,” he said, his tone firm.
Graham swallowed hard as Alex turned back to him. “Marriage is unnecessary.”
“Unnecessary?” Lord Chesterfield’s face flamed with anger. “After what you did, it is the only option.” Chesterfield stomped across the room, his hands balled at his sides. “You will marry my daughter, or I’ll see you?—.”
“Wait,” Alex intervened, stepping between Graham and Chesterfield before he could reach Graham. Alex met Graham’s gaze with a hard stare. “Surely, you do not mean to ignore your duty?”
Graham held Alex’s furious stare, and a chill went through him. His cousin was as enraged as Chesterfield.
And why shouldn’t he be?
Phoebe was an amazing woman, more than deserving of their protection. She deserved Graham’s, too, and that was the very reason he could not take her to wife. He shook his head. “I do not intend to ruin her.”
“You already have!” Chesterfield seethed, indignation radiating from him. “She was in your arms. Her clothes...” Chesterfield let the words trail off as he advanced on Graham.
“I did not bed her,” Graham said in as firm a tone as he could muster. “She is still innocent, and no one outside of the family knows she was with me. No one shall ever know what happened.”
“What the deuce is your point?” Alex asked, his eyes narrowed. “You had her naked in a cottage. She is ruined, and that ruination came at your hand. You have a duty to marry her.”
Chesterfield glared at Graham over Alex’s shoulder. “It matters not what the scoundrel thinks.” The veins in Chesterfield’s temples bulged as he pointed at Graham. “You will do right by my daughter, or I will meet you on the dueling field at dawn.”
“Let us be reasonable.” Graham stepped forward, drawing closer to Alex and Chesterfield. “If none of us speaks of this matter, Lady Phoebe’s reputation will remain unscathed. There is no reason for marriage. No reason to tie her to me.”
“On the contrary,” Alex said. “Lady Chesterfield was hosting tea when you were discovered. There are several witnesses.”
Lord Chesterfield seethed, “By morning, half of England will know what you have done!” He stepped around Alex and grabbed Graham’s lapels. “I should pummel you…murder you for sullying my daughter.”
Graham felt the blood drain from his face. He did not fear Chesterfield, nor did he mind the man’s anger. It was well deserved. What chilled him was the knowledge that he would have to marry Phoebe. In doing so, he truly would ruin her, for he could not protect her from his past.
He closed his eyes and exhaled. Resigned to his fate, he muttered, “Very well, I will take her to wife.”
