Stonevale smirked. “Need I also remind you that I have already paid a rather handsome sum for Miss Hawthorne’s hand? How quickly some of us do forget.”
Juliana froze at his words.
“Paid?” Her gaze swiveled to Kit, who had gone white as a sheet. “Paid what?”
Her voice rose in pitch as alarm coursed through her. Stonevale could not be accusing her brother of what she believed he was. Kit might be a gambler—and a horrid one, at that—but he could not possibly have gone so far.
Could he?
Stonevale reached for her, but she angrily shook his hand away from her—a marvelous feat, since she was shaking all over.
“Unhand me, Your Grace!” she told him, her glare fixed on her brother, who now shrank from the fury in her gaze. “You will explain yourself, and I shall not countenance any more falsehood from you.” Her gaze slid briefly to the stoic Duke. “Thebothof you.”
“Juliana, it is not what you think it is—”
Wrong answer.
“No, it ispreciselywhat you think it is, my sweet.” Stonevale stepped between them, his features impassive, as if that dreadfully handsome face had been cast in stone and not flesh and blood. “On the night of the…masquerade, your brother offered a night in your company to pay off his debts.”
Juliana reeled as the truth of his words slammed into her. She felt as if she was going to be sick.
“The price was for one night,” the Duke continued, his voice barely piercing through the fog of anguish that surrounded her. “But I intend to make you my Duchess, my sweet. Your brother has underestimated your value rather abysmally.” He smirked and added, “I would pay more if it meant his presence wouldnever offend my sight again.”
“How very generous of you!” Juliana could barely contain her contempt for their appalling arrangement. Her eyes flicked to her brother. “This is true, then? You accepted money in exchange for…” Her breath caught in her throat. “In exchange for your sister.”
Kit threw his hands up in the air in frustration. “He is a liar, Juliana! Gods above, how can you even begin to believe such a ridiculous fabrication?”
She laughed bitterly, causing both men to look at her in concern.
“Youdidaccept his money, did you not?” she accused him with a scornful smile. “Youagreedto this transaction. Yousoldme.”
“Of course not!” Kit raged, but the guilt in his eyes was damning. Her brother had truly sunk so low as to accept funds from wherever he could get his hands on them, without a care as tohowhe acquired them. “I would never let anyone lay afingeron you. I would have paid that amount back as soon as—”
“As soon as what, brother?” she tilted her head, a mocking smile on her face. “As soon as you have recovered your wealth through some fortuitous windfall at the tables?”
Kit blanched at the viciousness in her words. In the past, Juliana had never spoken to him so harshly. She had always regarded him with as much patience as she could muster, even as he failed over and over again at whatever enterprise he turned his eye to. And even in their dire straits, she had begrudgingly allowed him to send her on errands which risked her reputation and dignity as a well-bred young lady.
And for what? He hadsoldher to his creditors.
“You disgust me, Christopher Hawthorne,” she spat out. She picked up her skirts and turned toward the dimly lit garden path, the same one that Lady Hampton had pointed out to them earlier.
She heard Stonevale call out her name, followed by a muttered curse at her brother. She did not bother to even pause and glance over her shoulder.
Both of them had played a hand in ruining her life.
They could keep each other company, then, for she wanted no part in their ridiculous feud.
“You really enjoy destroying every single thing you touch, do you not, Stonevale?”
Cassian turned toward the enraged young Baron with a raised eyebrow.
“I should think that is more your specialty than mine, Hawthorne. Need I remind you that it is notmyfortune I have frittered away in a mere handful of years?”
He watched with satisfaction as Hawthorne turned visibly apoplectic with rage.
“You just could not shut your mouth, could you, Stonevale?” the Baron raged. “Instead, you would rather waste your time scheming so you can blow my family apart.”
He could not care less what Hawthorne thought of him. In fact, he rather enjoyed watching the bastard’s carefully fabricated fantasy come crashing down on his duplicitous head.
