Not for the first time, he noted how lovely her eyes were. They were such a warm dark brown, and filled with depths he’d been drawn to many a time in their short acquaintance.
“How could you let this happen again, Vanessa!” her father said, and that dragged Darrius out of the inappropriate study of the woman.
He moved forward and found that Benedict had done the same at his side. Vanessa’s head dropped and her cheeks flamed brightly at the mention of the subject that no one ever spoke of. Her first engagement, which had also been broken two years before. It had been the talk of Society for a short time, especially when her first intended married another lady within weeks of the break.
His chest hurt a little with the realization that this second fracture would likely destroy her. And instead of her parents offering support, they were both glaring at her, pressing the weight of their own disappointments down on her slender shoulders.
“I do not know how I could have prevented this,” she said softly. “I did not encourage the man to seduce my maid, I assure you of that.”
Mr. Gardner moved another step toward his daughter, his hands clenched at his sides. “And yet you did nothing to keep the man, either. Even though you know what this means to your mother and me. You know what your failure will do to us.”
She flinched at the word failure, even as she pushed her shoulders back farther. “You don’t think this will hurt me, too, Father?”
“Selfish to the end,” her mother interrupted with a huff.
And that was about as much as Darrius could take. “That is enough,” he said, moving another step closer and putting himself partly in front of Vanessa. From the corner of his eye, he saw her glance up at him in surprise, but he ignored it. “If there is blame to be placed, then put it on my brother. He is the party that has wounded you, not Miss Gardner.”
“Oh yes, I have a great many thoughts about your brother. But you have no idea,” her father all but hissed. “No idea of her behavior, of how she gives not a damn about hurting her family, even though we are her only source of support.”
Vanessa’s breath became shorter and shorter as he spoke, and she stepped around Darrius at last, hands on her hips. “Then cut me off.”
The room grew perfectly silent for a moment as everyone stared at her. Her eyes were filled with tears, her expression laced with pain that touched every element of his terrible situation and Darrius felt a drive to help her. Save her. Protect her.
“Don’t tempt me,” her father barked, and then he did the unthinkable: he caught her arm, dragging her roughly toward him.
Darrius lunged and found Benedict doing the same. Darrius grabbed for Mr. Gardner, catching his lapels and yanking him away from Vanessa. Benedict reached for her and guided her back a few steps, pulling her close to his side. Darrius tried not to look at them standing together, the two most beautiful people he’d ever seen, and focused instead on his pulsing rage toward Mr. Gardner.
“You will not touch her,” he snarled, shaking the other man none too gently.
“She is my daughter, I will do what I like to punish her for her misdeeds,” Mr. Gardner said, but the tone was weak. Apparently he didn’t like being pushed around, only bullying others.
“There are no misdeeds to punish,” Darrius said, and shoved him away, sending him spiraling toward his wife. “And you two will leave my home if you cannot cease this behavior and support your daughter.”
The Gardners stood together a long moment, Vanessa staring at them, leaning toward her parents, as if willing them to do what was right for her. But her father only glared at her with such animus that it stung Darrius.
“You will get what you want, then. And good riddance.” He pivoted and marched from the room. Mrs. Gardner lingered, but only for a moment, before she trailed after her husband without so much as a backward glance toward the daughter they were abandoning after she had been victimized.
Vanessa made a sound in the back of her throat that Darrius didn’t think he would ever forget, it was so pained and wounded. She buckled a little, but this time Benedict was next to her and he caught her, drawing her against him gently. Darrius stared at them together again. That was best. He wasn’t built to comfort. All he could do was his best to repair.
Not that he could think of a way to do that. He turned away. “I will find your friend, the marchioness.”
He said nothing more, but left the room. Turner stood in the hallway, his face lined with concern and readiness to act. Darrius let out a sigh. “Mr. and Mrs. Gardner will be leaving us, I think, so be sure everything is ready for that inevitability. And when the guests arrive for the wedding, send them away.”
“Sir?” Turner breathed, his eyes going wide.
Darrius shook his head. “The viscount has not behaved well. Give an excuse to try to protect Miss Gardner as long as we can. It will not be enough, but we must try.”
“An illness in the family?” Turner suggested.
“Good man.” Darrius squeezed his arm gently. “Do you know where the marchioness went after she left the parlor?”
“Lady Egerton joined her husband and their companion in the music room, I think,” Turner said. “Shall I fetch them?”
“No, I will find her, thank you,” Darrius said. He smoothed his jacket as he continued down the hallway to do just that. From what he’d witnessed in the parlor, he suspected the marchioness was a steadfast friend to Vanessa, but he still needed to be careful what he revealed when he found the lady.
The music room was at the end of the hall, and he opened the door quietly and stepped inside. He was surprised by what he found there. The marchioness was indeed there, with her husband, who Darrius had always considered a friendly acquaintance. She sat on the marquess’s knee, his hand splayed against her thigh. That would have been an intimate enough image, but their companion, the playwright, Peter Reid, was also with them. He stood before the pair, knee pressed to Egerton’s, Reid’s hand resting against her shoulder and his gaze locked with hers.
Darrius jolted at the suggestive sight. He’d heard a few faint rumors about the relationship with the three. Whispers in the darkened areas of certain clubs that he frequented when he was wound too tightly. When he needed to stop pretending. But he hadn’t seen them like this before.
