Now the color went out of Elise’s own face. She hadn’t faced Ambrose in almost a week, not since he made that threat about finding out Toby’s long-buried secrets.
“Is he?” she said, working hard to get a handle on her tangled emotions.
Ruth nodded. “He demands to see you right away. And he said to tell you…”
She trailed off, and Elise took a step toward her. “It’s all right, Ruth. I understand these are not your words. Tell me what he said.”
“He—he said if you weren’t down in three minutes, he would come up here and get you, whether you were dressed or not.”
Elise sighed. “I assume he’d love to catch me undressed. It seems my time is ticking down. I will go to him. Thank you, Ruth.”
The maid bobbed out a nod and left the room. Elise tossed one more look at herself. She was dressed like a harlot and that would likely only serve to entice Ambrose more. She grabbed a shawl and pulled it around her shoulders, trying to cover herself a fraction before she headed out of her chamber and down the stairs to the parlor.
She drew a long breath before she entered, tamping down fear and anxiety at coming face to face with her adversary.
“Your Grace,” she said, her tone falsely airy as she entered the room. “I did not expect you tonight.”
He turned from the fire and his eyes all but bugged out of his head as he looked at her. She tugged at the shawl but knew it did little good. Ambrose ogled her scandalously exposed body, and the way he shifted let her know he was now aroused.
She thought of the gun she kept in her room upstairs and wished she had found a place to hide it on her person. She didn’t trust this man one iota.
“Good evening, Elise,” he said, stepping toward her. “Don’t you look fetching tonight. Were you going out?”
She swallowed hard. Thus far she’d been able to keep her trips to Vivien’s secret. The courtesan had assured her that she would never give a membership to her club to Ambrose, as he was, in Vivien’s words, “trouble”. Elise certainly had no intention of telling him herself.
“No,” she said. “I was just reading and planned to turn in early.”
His eyes lit up and she swallowed past bile. “Excellent. I am going to a ball. An old friend of yours, the Marchioness of Swinton, invited me.”
His crowing tone grated along Elise’s spine and she couldn’t help her flare of temper. “Well, bully for you, Ambrose.”
He moved on her a long step, his smile fading. “Watch your tongue. You’re coming with me.”
Elise stared at him in shock. “No!” she cried out when she could find words. “I most certainly am not. My mourning period is a few more months, Ambrose. I cannot go to a ball while I’m in black.”
“I didn’t ask you, Elise,” he said, snatching a hand out to catch her arm. Her shawl fell away and he stared even more blatantly as he began to drag her across the parlor.
“Stop,” she insisted, digging in her heels and tugging back against him. “Stop it this instant.”
He yanked her closer, her face now mere inches from hers. “What would you prefer I do, Elise? Stay in with you? Take you to bed?”
She froze in her struggles as she looked up into his face. He looked deathly serious now, like he was hoping she’d fight him.
“No,” she whispered.
He smiled. “Then to the party you and I will go.”
She squeezed her eyes shut a moment, willing tears not to fall. “Why?Whydo you want me there, Ambrose?”
He caught her chin in his hand, a mirror of what Stenfax had done when they made love a few days before, only without the gentleness and care Lucien had shown her. Ambrose squeezed, just enough to hurt, not enough to bruise.
“Because I want all of them to know I have the same power as my cousin did. I wanthimto see I have all the same claims.”
“Him?” Elise asked, trembling and hating herself for showing that weakness.
“Stenfax,” Ambrose clarified. “Your earl is sniffing around you again and I don’t want to encourage that to continue. Now, we are late. So let’s go.”
He grabbed for her arm again and she tugged a second time. “Please, at least let me change. This gown is utterly inappropriate.”
