She moved to go, but her father caught her elbow and kept her from exiting the room. Hugh looked at how his fingers dug into her forearm, and his heart lurched a little.
“Amelia, you shall stay,” the viscount said. “This concerns you.”
Her lips parted in surprise, and then she pivoted toward Hugh again. “Did youdarespeak to my father about my engagement? You are a most impertinent man. You have no right to interfere in my life, especially since you hardly know me!”
A dozen retorts rose up in Hugh’s body, threatened to spill out, but he held them back as Quinton said, “It is you who is being impertinent, child.”
She faced him. “Unless he gave you a good reason, arealreason, for me not to marry Aaron Walters, I have no idea how I am not allowed to defend myself against his—”
“He did,” Quinton interrupted, lifting his voice so it was louder than hers.
Hugh watched as a look of pure horror rolled over her face. The blood left her cheeks and her mouth dropped open in shock. “Wh-what?”
The viscount nodded, suddenly solemn. “Yes, my dear. The duke has given me a very compelling reason to keep your engagement to Mr. Walters from advancing.”
“What could that be?” she burst out, her gaze darting from her father to Hugh and back again.
She was hurt. Brokenhearted. Hugh hated himself more than he ever had that he was a part of it. That he hadn’t pushed aside his pride and found a way to turn Society against Walters before his duplicity went this far and involved another innocent young woman in his schemes.
“You will not marry Walters,” her father said. “Because the Duke of Brighthollow seems to have purchased a great deal of my debt. And he will free me from that debt only if you marry him instead.”
Hugh staggered.Thiswas the way he would convince her to marry? To tell this vulgar, cruel lie? To use her love for her father against whatever love she felt for Walters? To make Hugh a deeper, darker villain than she believed him to be already?
She turned to him, her lips white, trembling, and stared. And in that moment he saw that she despised him. She would despise him for the rest of her days.
But he also saw that despite any fight she was about to put up, she would also ultimately surrender. She would marry him.
And he’d never felt sicker in his life.
Amelia couldn’t breathe. She stared at Brighthollow, standing behind her father, face impassive, arms folded, dark eyes spearing her, and she couldn’t breathe. She’d thought him wicked before, but now she saw how deep that went.
How far he would go to get what he wanted. He would lie. He would cheat. He would steal.
“You cannot mean this,” she managed to push out past dry lips. She was speaking to her father, but she couldn’t stop staring at Brighthollow. “I can’t marry him.”
Quinton cocked his head. “Not even to save your father? Do I mean so little to you, Amelia?”
Brighthollow flinched, turned his gaze away at last. It seemed he couldn’t stomach his own cruelty. But when he looked away, she felt able to do the same and stared at her father.
“You are all I have left,” she whispered. “You mean the world to me. But is there no other way?”
“I’ve found no way out,” her father said. He sighed, but it didn’t sound particularly sad. “This arrangement is all there is left. And look on the bright side, Amelia. You will be a duchess with power and money, far more elevated than a mere country gentleman could lift you. It is a good trade.”
“A trade?” she whispered. “You trade my heart for comfort and you call it good?”
The viscount shook his head. “Gracious, Amelia, you are being ridiculous. I understand that marrying for the heart is all the rage in higher circles at present, but we must be pragmatic. Love or something like it fades with time. In five years or ten you would regret turning away a duke for a no one. One day you’ll thank me.”
She stared at her father, uncertain if he was trying to convince her or himself. She couldn’t believe he was as laissez-faire about this bargain as he seemed. He had to know how much it cut her to think of walking away from the future she’d planned.
So she turned to Brighthollow. When she stepped up to him, he stiffened. His jaw tightened and he glanced down at her, holding her gaze with that entirely unreadable expression she now wanted to slap from his face.
“You cannot really want to marry me,” she breathed. “You cannot really wish to trade my father’s debts for…for me?”
He was silent for a beat. Two. Like he was struggling with the answer. His gaze flitted to Quinton, and then he jerked out a nod. “Yes.”
Her heart sank. She would be forced to walk away from a man who showered her with romantic gestures, who declared their future loudly and proudly, to…this. To this silent ogre who would rip her from her happiness just to settle a score. Against her father, against her fiancé. She would be his tool, nothing else.
“I willnevermarry you,” she hissed.
