“Perceptive as ever,” he acknowledged, finally rising. He walked to the door and closed it. Returning to stand in front of her, he said, “What I want is simple. You.”
A chill swept through her. “Excuse me?”
“Marry me instead of Furoe,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “Your considerable dowry would solve my financial…inconveniences. Your family connections would open doors previously closed to me. And in return, I would ensure this sordid business remains buried.”
Revulsion crawled across her skin. “You cannot be serious.”
“I assure you; I am entirely serious.” His eyes traveled over her in a way that made her feel soiled. “You’re still young, still beautiful. Lord Furoe could continue his charade, raising his little bastard without fear of exposure.”
She didn’t trust this man as far as she could throw him.
Courtney fought to control her breathing, to think clearly despite the shock and horror flooding through her. If she refused him outright, Lockwood would waste no time spreading his poison throughout London society. Lucien would be disgraced. His family name tarnished. And Ava-Marie—sweet, innocent Ava-Marie, who threw her arms around Courtney’s neck and begged for stories about stars—would bear the cruel stigma of illegitimacy her entire life.
“You’re asking me to betray the man I love,” she said quietly. “My father would never allow me to marry you.”
“I’m sure you’ll find a way to persuade him.”
“Father will know, Lucien will know, everyone will know, something is wrong.”
“Why should that matter to you? I’m offering you an opportunity to save him,” Lockwood countered. “To spare his family public humiliation. To protect his daughter from the harsh judgment of society. All it would cost is your hand in marriage to me.”
“And if I refuse?”
His smile vanished. “Then by this time tomorrow, every drawing room in Mayfair will be buzzing with the scandalous tale of Lord Furoe’s Irish deception. His sisters will find their marital prospects vanishing overnight. The child will be marked as a bastard. And you, Lady Courtney—will be an object of pity and ridicule.”
The threat hung in the air between them, ugly but undeniably potent. Courtney’s mind whirled with desperate calculations. She needed time—time to think, to plan, and find out if this man spoke the truth.
“This is…overwhelming,” she said, allowing a tremor to enter her voice. “You’re asking me to make an impossible choice with no time for consideration.”
Lockwood’s expression softened fractionally, though the calculation never left his eyes. “I understand your dilemma. I am not unreasonable. You may have until tomorrow evening at Lady Fenchurch’s ball to make your decision. You can give me your answer at midnight on the terrace.”
Relief mingled with dread in Courtney’s chest. One day. Not much time, but perhaps enough to formulate a response.
“Very well,” she agreed reluctantly. “Tomorrow evening.”
Lockwood bowed, his manner suddenly courtly. “Until then, Lady Courtney. I trust you’ll make the wise choice.” He straightened, his eyes hardening. “And I needn’t remind you that any attempt to flee London or warn Furoe would force my hand immediately.”
She regarded him coldly. “I understand perfectly.”
As Graves showed the baron out, Courtney sank back into her chair, her limbs suddenly weak. The sapphire ring on her finger—Lucien’s mother’s ring—caught the firelight, sending blue sparks dancing across the wall. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she blinked them back fiercely. She’d already given it back once. Would she have to give it back a second time?
Lucienhadbeen keeping something from her. She’d felt it. Deep inside, she knew Lockwood’s words would be true. She thought his heart was torn up by Ava’s loss because he loved her. But it was more likely because she’d lied to him.
She would not believe it of Lucien—even the Lucien she didn’t know that well—that he’d allow a child to be born out of wedlock. Therefore, it was a natural assumption that Ava must have lied and told him they were husband and wife. Lucien would not remember. Now she understood his trust issues.
He had never truly been married to her. That Ava-Marie, the child Courtney had grown to love during their weeks in Dorset, was born outside the sanctity of marriage and could be forever tarnished almost made her weep. That Ava had deceived him thoroughly, taking advantage of his amnesia to create a fictional life where she was his respectable wife rather than… How could Ava have been so cruel? But Courtney could hardly judge. She led a life of luxury. How desperate must Ava have been?
Whatever Ava’s past, she had clearly loved Lucien and their daughter. Had clearly provided him with companionship and care when he was at his most vulnerable. Perhaps her deception had begun as opportunism, but surely it had evolvedinto something more genuine? But why had she never told him the truth? No wonder he struggled with trust. The woman he thought loved him had deceived him in the worst possible way.
She’d always envied Ava her time with Lucien and the child, but now she disliked her immensely. She’d stolen five years of Lucien’s life. He could have come home to her sooner. Stopped his father’s fall into gambling and vice and seen the family coffers remain full.
Courtney could have helped him with his memory loss… Tears welled. But then he’d not have Ava-Marie.But they might have had their own child….
Rising on unsteady legs, Courtney moved to the window, staring unseeingly at the street below. What was she to do? If she acquiesced to Lockwood’s demand, she would save Lucien’s family and Ava-Marie from scandal, but at the cost of her own happiness. If she refused, the consequences would be devastating—not just for Lucien, but for Lauren and Madeline, whose marriage prospects would be irreparably damaged by association.
And Lucien’s little girl…
What if she tried to somehow warn Lucien? Lockwood would ensure the scandal broke immediately. Besides, what could Lucien do? The lack of a marriage record couldn’t be remedied after the fact. Ava was dead; she couldn’t suddenly produce proof of a marriage that had never occurred.
