“Quite ruined, you know...”
“No wonder she...”
Understanding crashed over him with sickening clarity. The scandal at Lady Pemberton’s ball, Sterling boasting about the girl who had thrown herself at him, the rumors that had destroyed her reputation. She had been desperate enough to come here, to Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s establishment, to trap someone into marriage to save herself from complete social ruin.
And he was that someone.
Worse, infinitely worse, she had been ruined by Sterling. His rival, his enemy, the man he despised above all others. The humiliation of it staggered him. He was being forced to clean up Sterling’s mess, to save Sterling’s victim, to give his name and protection to a woman who had been foolish enough to fall into that scoundrel’s trap.
Rees swallowed against the rising lump in his throat.“How convenient for you, Lady Victoria,” he said, his voice cold. Each word was precisely articulated, carrying across the silent room. “Your reputation lies in ruins thanks to your poor judgment with Lord Sterling, and now you have found a way to force respectability upon yourself through deceit. It would seem the pair of you are a perfect match.”
She flinched as if he had struck her, color draining from her face. “My lord, I understand your anger.”
“Do you?” He stepped closer, noting how she stepped back. “You understand that you have trapped me into marriage through fraud? That you have destroyed my future for your convenience? That I am to be bound for life to a woman whose name has been sullied by Sterling...”
“That is enough.” Her voice cracked, unexpected strength flaring in those dark eyes. For a moment, she looked less like a desperate debutante and more like someone who had been pushed past all endurance. “You know nothing of what happened that night.”
“I know enough.” The words tasted bitter. “I know Sterling’s nature, and I know the type of woman who falls for it. I know you were discovered in a compromising position that you clearly orchestrated, given your presence here tonight. And I know that you have now ensnared me in your schemes to escape the consequences of your actions. And to think I actually felt sorry for you.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but he had heard enough. The walls of the Lyon’s Den felt too close, the perfumed air too thick. He needed to leave before he said something even more unforgivable, or before he gave in to the urge to strangle Mrs. Dove-Lyon where she stood.
“I will call tomorrow to arrange the necessary details,” he said, giving Victoria a bow so proper it became mockery. “We will need to marry quickly if we are to salvage what is left of your reputation. How fortunate you will achieve your goal of respectability, even if it comes at the cost of my freedom.”
He turned on his heel, ignoring Rafe calling his name, ignoring Alistair reaching for his arm. The crowd parted before him, their faces a blur of shock and anticipation—witnesses to the newest scandal that would feed gossip for months.
The night air hit him when he burst through the Lyon’s Den’s blue door. He stood on Cleveland Row, chest heaving, hands shaking with rage and a sense of loss he could not quite name. Behind him, through the still-open door, he could hear the explosion of conversation as the crowd recovered from their shock.
Somewhere in that den of manipulation and deceit, Lady Victoria Richmond stood alone, having won her game at the cost of both their happiness. And tomorrow, honor would demand he make good on a wager he never would have made without being manipulated.
There was no escape for either of them.
Chapter 5
The morning light spilled into the Richmond drawing room, illuminating the shadows beneath Victoria’s eyes that no amount of powder could disguise. She sat motionless on the settee, her hands folded in her lap with such stillness they might have been carved from marble. Meanwhile, her mother fluttered about the room, rearranging cushions that needed no adjustment and straightening paintings that hung perfectly level. The night had stretched endlessly, each hour marked by the church bells that seemed to toll her shame. Through it all, she had seen Rees Harcourt’s face—the moment when confusion gave way to understanding, when understanding hardened into something worse than hatred: disgust. The word sat heavy in her chest, a stone she could not dislodge.
“Such wonderful news!” Her mother’s voice pierced through Victoria’s thoughts. “Mr. Rees Harcourt! Oh, my dear, when I think of what might have been…some merchant or worse, someone without connections, but the Harcourts! Their estate borders the Duke of Exitor’s lands. Your father is already speaking of the advantages this will open for Margaret and Anne.” She paused to clasp her hands together, her eyes shining with relief. “His income must be substantial, and his brother married a Wyndham—such excellent connections. You will want for nothing, my darling.”
The words washed over Victoria, each enthusiastic declaration eating away at her composure. Her mother saw salvation where Victoria saw only devastation—a man forced into marriage, trapped by her desperation, bound to her through deceit rather than desire. She pressed her fingernails into her palms until the pain became sharp enough to anchor her to the present.
“He hates me, Mama.” The words emerged broken, barely above a whisper, but they halted her mother’s movements. “You should have seen his face when he realized, when he understood what had happened. The way he looked at me...” She trailed off, unable to articulate the revulsion that had transformed his features, the way his voice had turned to ice when he spoke of her poor judgment.
Her mother’s excited chatter died instantly. She crossed to the settee, sinking down beside Victoria and taking her cold hands between her warm, trembling ones. “My dear child,” she said softly, the brightness draining from her expression. “Of course he was angry. Any man would be discovering himself bound by trickery. But in time...”
“In time, he will hate me more, not less.” Victoria pulled her hands free, wrapping her arms around herself. “Every day he will wake beside me and remember that I trapped him. That I stole his freedom, his choice, his future.”
“Then you must show him the truth.” Her mother’s voice gained strength. “Show him that you are not some scheming creature but an innocent girl forced into terrible circumstances. Show him who you really are.”
“And who is that?” Victoria’s laugh held no humor. “The fool who believed a forged note? The girl who walked straight into Damian’s trap? Or perhaps the desperate woman who sold a stranger’s freedom to save herself?”
Before her mother could answer, the butler appeared in the doorway. “Mr. Rees Harcourt has arrived, my lady.”
Victoria’s heart stuttered, then began racing so fast she felt lightheaded. She stood on unsteady legs, smoothing her skirts with trembling hands. Her mother squeezed her shoulder once—a gesture meant to give strength—then moved to stand by the mantelpiece as the butler showed their visitor in.
Rees Harcourt entered the drawing room, all rigid control. He wore dark blue superfine that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, his cravat tied with precision. His face might have been carved from marble, though Victoria caught the way his jaw tightened when his gaze found her, the minute he flinched before he schooled his features back to indifference.
“Mr. Harcourt.” Her father rose from his chair by the window, extending his hand. “We are grateful for your promptness in this matter.”
“Lord Richmond.” Rees’s bow was correct, his handshake brief. “I believe expedition serves all our interests.” His voice held the same detachment one might use to discuss a business transaction—which, Victoria supposed, this was.
