Her father wedged his way between them and glared at her. “Don’t make the man think you are daft, child. I told you, I have made arrangements for you and Mr. Cavendish to wed. He is the younger brother of the Earl of Wilding. It is a fine match and one I know you are very pleased to make.”
Her eyes darted past her father and back to Duncan. He still looked uninterested. This was not the man who had seduced her, pleasured her, offered her help even though they both knew he could not give it to her. This was some other person. The kind of man who would make a marriage contract without even meeting his intended. Without caring about her in the slightest.
He might not be the horrible viscount she had feared, but she could not recognize him as anything less than an ogre regardless. Which meant her path was no different with him than it would have been otherwise.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Cavendish. My father has made a mistake. You see, he has bartered something with you that is no longer available.”
Duncan’s eyebrow arched, and for the first time since he’d entered the room he actually looked interested in what she was saying. “No? Have you married someone else overnight?”
“In a matter of speaking,” she said, hardening herself to him. “I know my father has told you that I am an innocent. I have no doubt that my maidenhead was part of the arrangement you made with him.”
“Hannah!” her father shouted as he grasped her arm again.
“But I…I am no longer a virgin,” she continued, keeping her eyes locked on her apparent fiancé to see how he would react. “And I assume that voids any interest you have in marrying me.”
* * *
Mr. Blankenship was screaming at the top of his lungs, his booming voice all but shaking the walls as he railed at Hannah. Duncan heard none of the words, the entire exchange held little interest to him.
He was far more interested in Hannah. He had recognized her as his mystery lover the moment he entered the parlor. Her lower face, her bright eyes, the curves of her body…those were all recognizable to him the moment he passed the threshold. When she’d spoken, all doubt fled.
He was certain she recognized him, as well. The way her gaze darted over him from head to toe, her pupils dilating with undeniable interest, plus the shock that parted her lips gave him the impression she was aware. And yet she still was trying to leverage her behavior at the Donville Masquerade the night before in order to avoid marrying him.
He was certain he had never met the lady before today. Perhaps they had passed each other at parties, but never spoken or connected. So why had she been so utterly opposed to the match? Enough that she would give away her innocence to a stranger in order to avoid the act? Why would she refer to him as an ogre and shudder in disgust at the very idea that she would be his bride?
It was all very interesting.
“Whore!” Mr. Blankenship shouted, drawing Duncan back to attention. He pulled his arm back, almost as if he would strike Hannah.
Duncan lunged forward and caught the man’s wrist, yanking him away from his daughter before he could deliver a blow. The man turned to him, purple and blustering. “Sir—”
“Put a hand on her and I will destroy your very existence,” Duncan said softly, keeping his eyes locked on Blankenship’s so his meaning and the seriousness of it couldn’t be ignored.
Blankenship scowled and yanked his wrist free. “She’s lying,” he said, rubbing the spot where Duncan had squeezed.
“I’m not lying,” Hannah whispered, and turned her face, no longer looking at her father or Duncan.
Duncan folded his arms. “I will speak to my fiancée alone.”
Both Blankenship and Hannah gasped, and she took a stumbling step toward him before she caught herself and drew herself up short. Blankenship shook his head. “That would not be appropriate,” he said.
Duncan arched a brow. “According toHannah,” he said, emphasizing her given name, “there is nothing left to be compromised if we are alone. And I wish to speak to her to determine if I can allow the engagement to proceed. It was not a question, Mr. Blankenship.”
Blankenship frowned, but then he shrugged. “If you will even consider continuing after this shocking display by my daughter, I will not argue.” He glared at Hannah, then stormed out of the room.
Duncan followed him and shut the door. When he turned back, he found Hannah had paced to the window and was standing there, her shoulders shaking.
“Look at me,” he ordered.
* * *
Hannah wanted to be able to refuse Duncan’s order. To tell him in no uncertain terms that she did not belong to him and did not have to do what he told her to do. Only when his deep, rumbling voice demanded, her body immediately longed to comply.
So she did, slowly turning to face him. He was staring at her, his expression still utterly unreadable. She still had no idea if he recognized her. She had to believe he didn’t, or why wouldn’t he have confronted her already?
So she had to continue with this farce if she wanted to save herself.
“Mr. Cavendish—”
