“I never meant?—”
“Enough!” Lord Ramersby’s face was red with fury. “You’ve ruined us! Made us the laughingstock of London! And for what? Some childish rebellion?”
“It wasn’t rebellion,” Eliza said, finding her voice. “You were trying to force me into a marriage with a murderer!”
“You ungrateful child,” her father snarled. “We secured you an excellent match!”
“With a man whose last wife died under suspicious circumstances!” Eliza’s voice rose. “A man under whose care my best friend fell to her death!”
“You will not make such accusations,” Lady Ramersby hissed. “Lord Whitfield has been nothing but gracious!”
“Gracious?” Eliza turned to Morgan, desperation in her eyes. “Your Grace, I’m so sorry. I never meant to drag you into this. I only wanted work, somewhere far from London. When you hired me in Sussex, I thought… Well, I never expected you’d bring the entire household to London. I never meant for any of this to happen. I just wanted to disappear, to be safe…”
“Safe from what?” her father demanded. “From a man who was willing to take you?”
“Safe from a man who killed…”
“Enough.”
The roar came from Morgan.
Everyone fell silent.
Morgan moved out from behind his desk, his eyes fixed on Lord Ramersby with an intensity that made the older man take an involuntary step back.
“You were forcing your daughter into marriage,” Morgan said, his voice low and dangerous. “Why?”
“That’s none of your concern, Your Grace,” Lady Ramersby said quickly. “This is a family matter?—”
“It became my concern when Lady Eliza sought refuge in my household.” Morgan didn’t look at her, didn’t acknowledge her attempt to deflect. “Lord Ramersby. Answer the question.”
“It’s a father’s right to arrange his daughter’s marriage,” Lord Ramersby blustered. “She has a duty to obey…”
“To Lord Whitfield specifically,” Morgan interrupted. “Why him? Of all the men in London, why did you choose a man with three dead wives for your daughter?”
Lord Ramersby’s mouth opened and closed. No sound came out.
“Your Grace,” Lady Ramersby tried again, her tone shifting to something cloying and sweet. “Really, we shouldn’t trouble you with such matters. You must be terribly busy, and our family affairs are hardly of any interest for a man of your standing.”
“I asked a question,” Morgan said coldly. “I expect an answer.”
Eliza’s hands were shaking. She clenched them into fists. The sight made Morgan’s blood boil.
“My father owes Lord Whitfield money,” she said quietly. “Gambling debts. Lord Whitfield agreed to forgive them if I married him.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
“You sold her,” Morgan said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You sold your own daughter to settle your debts?”
“How dare you!” Lord Ramersby’s face went purple. “You know nothing about?—”
“I know enough.” Morgan took a step closer. “I know you tried to force her into marriage with a man she feared. A man who has left a trail of dead wives in his wake. A man who?—”
“Keep your mouth shut, Eliza!” Lord Ramersby hissed, whirling on his daughter. “This is all your fault, you stupid, selfish little?—”
Morgan moved faster than Eliza had ever seen him move.
One moment, he was across the room. The next, he was inches from Lord Ramersby’s face. He reached his arm back and landed a single, hard blow on his cheek. Lord Ramersby grabbed his pink cheek, his expression blank.
