She hated that she’d been the one to disappoint him.
But he turned to her and bowed. “My thanks for receiving me.”
And as quickly as he’d come, the Earl of Standish took his leave.
This was most serendipitous because not two minutes following his departure, the door to the drawing room was thrown open.
“What did that devil want?” Her father’s ruddy complexion appeared even more red than usual, and his mere aura filled the room with tension.
Lord Standish was not a devil, but Goldie kept her opinion to herself.
“He wanted to see Gardenia.” Her voice trembled more than she’d like.
Her father’s long strides ate up the space between them. Most dukes possessed tremendous power and could intimidate a person without speaking. Her father, with his stout physique and permanent glower, intimidated even those who didn’t know his status.
“Why didn’t you tell Bulwark to send him away?” He pinned her to her seat with nothing more than his stare, and Goldie made herself as small as possible. Her father was not above striking his daughters.
“I didn’t think. I’m sorry,” she said.
“If that murderer steps foot in my house again, he’ll be carried out by an undertaker.”
But Lord Standish was not a murderer! Goldie didn’t believe the stupid rumors for an instant. She wanted to tell her father that there was no evidence supporting those suspicions and that Lord Standish was nothing like the other men in his family.
But, of course, she could not.
“You never do.” Her father’s jaw ticked, but he kept silent as he strode across to the window. “Insults to humanity—the Rutherford men. The entire line ought to have ended in that fire. I was a fool to agree to the betrothal. I’ve made a lucky escape. Liars and cheats—the whole lot of them.”
It was Nia who had made the lucky escape.
But Goldie didn’t argue with her father—no one ever argued with the Duke of Crossings.
Those who did always regretted it.
“He won’t be coming around again,” she said. “I told him Gardenia was not in London.”
Her father turned around. “I don’t know what I did for God to curse me so. I’d trade both my daughters for a single son,” he said. “At least I don’t have to worry about any of these nobs coming after you. I can only console myself that your mother will have you as her companion once your sister is married.”
“Unless my come-out is a success,” Goldie reminded him in a timid voice, staring down at her hands. If she failed to land a husband this Season, she doubted she’d get another chance.
She loved her mother. She did! But the duchess could be picky and criticizing at times. Goldie couldn’t picture herself tending to her every whim—not for the rest of her life!
Her father merely grunted.
“Mother promised they would return before the Season begins.” Because Goldie required her mother’s sponsorship if she was to be presented.
“I suppose, but you know how she is.” He walked across the room but turned around when he arrived at the door. “Tell Bulwark that if he allows anyone with so much as an ounce of Rutherford blood to set foot in my house again, he’s sacked. And if Standish persists in sniffing around you, hoping to get to your sister, inform me immediately and I’ll demand satisfaction.”
Goldie swallowed hard but nodded. Of course, she’d make sure the butler heeded her father’s instructions. No matter how enamored she was with Lord Standish, she wouldn’t allow Bulwark to lose his job.
She needed to forget about Lord Standish completely. He was nothing more than a childish crush.
A crush who was only interested in her sister.
Goldie straightened her spine. She had her come-out to look forward to.
She prayed she’d land a kind, quiet gentleman for a husband this Season. Love wasn’t in her future, but freedom…
That was within her reach.
