Clayton stepped closer, removing his hat with an elegant flourish. “Amanda, my dear. You cannot imagine my relief to see you safe and well.” His voice carried all the smoothness of honey over broken glass. “I’ve missed you terribly.”
Mandie’s skin crawled at the endearment, and she instinctively stepped backward until she reached the solidwarmth of Enoch behind her. His presence gave her courage to lift her chin.
“You weren’t invited here, Clayton.” Her voice carried more strength than she felt. “You need to leave.”
Her mother’s eyes widened. “Mandie! What’s gotten into you? Clayton is practically family. And who is this man?” She gestured toward Enoch with obvious disapproval.
She shifted to the side so she could make introductions. “Mama, Papa, may I present Lord Enoch Balfour?” She motioned to each brother in turn. “And his brothers, Lord James, Lord Robert, and Lord Thomas. I was injured during my journey here, and the Balfour family has graciously taken me in and cared for me.”
Then she gestured to her parents. “Gentlemen, my parents. Mr. and Mrs. Theodore Sinclair.”
Enoch stepped forward with the polished manners of his noble upbringing. “Mrs. Sinclair. Mr. Sinclair.” His tone was perfectly correct, but she caught the underlying tension. Did her parents notice it? “Your daughter has been a welcome guest in our home.”
Clayton’s smile never wavered, but something cold flickered in his dark eyes as he assessed Enoch. “How fortunate that Mandie found such...hospitable neighbors in this wilderness.”
Enoch stiffened the tiniest bit at Clayton’s tone. She needed to do something to fix this situation before it turned for the worse.
She frowned at her parents. “Clayton isn’t welcome here. He needs to leavenow.”
Her mother’s face flushed. “Amanda! I don’t know what’s come over you, but this rudeness is unacceptable. Clayton is a dear family friend who has done nothing but help us find you.”
“He is not a friend.” The words tore from her throat, raw with suppressed fury. “Clayton is?—”
“Now, now,” Clayton interrupted smoothly, his voice dripping false concern. “I can see the journey and your injury have left you overwrought, my dear. We should get you back to that little village where you can rest and collect yourself.”
He moved forward as if to take her arm, and Mandie recoiled so hard she nearly stumbled.
Enoch’s hand steadied her, then he shifted to place himself between her and Clayton. When he spoke, his voice held a deadly calm. “You heard the lady. You’re not welcome here.”
Her mother drew herself up. “I’m not sure I care for your friend’s manners, Mandie. A true gentleman wouldn’t be so discourteous to a guest.”
“Clayton is not a good man, Mama.” Mandie’s voice trembled with the fury that roiled through her. How dare her parents bring that man to her doorstep? And to claim he was helping…
Of course they didn’t know the truth. They must not, or they wouldn’t have brought him.
Her middle swooped. She needed to tell them. But not everyone together.
Her mother. She had to tell her mother what Clayton had done.
She glanced around. She couldn’t do it with all the men watching. Who knew how Mama would react? Yet going inside with her mother and leaving all this fury to face off against each other?
She’d have to chance it. Clayton would be the loser in any battle against all four Balfour brothers, and she couldn’t find even a scrap of pity for the lecher.
She stepped back. “Mama, I need to speak with you alone. Inside.”
All eyes turned to her, but Enoch’s was the only gaze she met. She gave a slight nod to answer the question he no doubt wanted to ask. She was going to tell the truth, as much of it as she knew.
“Perhaps we could all come inside rather than waiting on your doorstep.” Clayton spoke in that patronizing tone that clearly insinuated the Balfours possessed no hospitality. He was simply trying to protect himself though. He’d no doubt pretend Mandie had lost her mind and was spouting nonsense.
“No.” Enoch nearly growled the word, and he took a step forward, blocking Clayton’s path to the porch steps.
Her mother glanced at her father, then sighed and moved to follow Mandie into the house. “I hope you have a proper explanation for all this.”
Mandie’s heart hammered against her ribs as she led her mother through the front door and into the main room. The remnants of their cheerful afternoon—pushed-back furniture, Robert’s violin case open on the mantel—seemed to mock the gravity of what she was about to reveal.
Her mother’s sharp gaze took in the polished wood floors, the fine furnishings, the obvious prosperity of the household. Some of the disapproval in her expression eased. “Well. They do seem to live quite respectably for being so far from civilization.”
“Mama, please sit down.” Mandie gestured toward the sofa, her hands trembling. How did one begin such a conversation? How did one tell her mother that a man she’d welcomed into their home, trusted with her daughter’s welfare, was a monster?
