Madame Katrina snatched the money. “Take her upstairs,” she ordered the bald giant, and he scooped the woman off the floor and carried her away.
“You’re better than your friends,” Madame Katrina said, turning back to Henry. “You should get yourself a wife and settle down to a nice life. These places,” she gestured to her surroundings, “are not for the likes of you.”
*
He appraised herwith his steel-gray eyes, combing the length of her body, as though she were an expensive piece of furniture that needed a thorough evaluation before purchase.
Annabel wasn’t going to stand for it. She lifted her chin and stared icily at Lord Craventhorp. She recognized him the moment she saw him—or his type, anyway. He was the sort of man who treated people with sneering disrespect. He was strikingly handsome, to be sure, but there was no warmth or kindness in his chiseled face. He looked as if he’d been carved from marble and had a demeanor to match.
“Miss Leonard,” he said, “We meet again.”
“Have we met before, Lord Craventhorp? I do not recall.”
He stiffened and narrowed his eyes slightly. “We’ve never been formally introduced before today, but I have had the pleasure of seeing you from afar.”
“You had the pleasure of seeing me, Lord Craventhorp, or simply hearing about me?” She knew very well it was the latter. Her papa had used his resources to ferret out a bankrupted noble and let it be known that he was looking for a title for his daughter, for which he would pay a handsome price. Lord Craventhorp had seized the opportunity. She doubted the viscount cared what she looked like or how she behaved. And who could blame him? He could marry her and continue living life exactly as he pleased, while she would have to do exactly what he wanted. As her husband, he would have the power to lock her away in an asylum if he wished to rid himself of her. She’d heard more than one such story about husbands who did that very thing from her lady’s maid, Stella.
Mrs. Leonard cleared her throat loudly, indicating her displeasure at Annabel’s behavior and, no doubt, hoping to elicit a reaction from her husband.
“Lord Craventhorp.” Mr. Leonard, duly alerted, fired a warning look at his daughter, “why don’t you and Annabel take a turn in the garden and get acquainted? You desire a short courtship, as I understand it, so now is as good a time as any to begin, is it not?”
“Papa, I don’t even know this gentleman, and you suggest I take a stroll alone with him?”
Mrs. Leonard’s face reddened. She flung her fan open and fanned herself vigorously.
“He’s to be your betrothed. It’s perfectly acceptable.” Her father’s eyebrows knitted together. No doubt, he thought the viscount a perfect gentleman and wondered why his daughter seemed intent on embarrassing him.
“She’s quite right, Mr. Leonard. Although we have agreed to the marriage, every young lady wants and deserves a formal proposal.”
Mr. Leonard grinned and nodded in agreement. “Yes, yes. I am a married man myself and the father of three daughters. If a man wants peace, he must indulge his lady’s whims.”
Annabel’s stomach churned. Could her papa not see through Lord Craventhorp’s pretenses? Had he not looked into the man’s eyes and seen his icy interior? Didn’t he care about her welfare at all?
“Don’t fret, Annabel dear. Lord Craventhorp will not deprive you of being properly wooed and proposed to. But, as I said, he desires a short courting, so we shall not prolong these niceties, although I agree, they are necessary.”
Annabel set her jaw and glared at her papa. She hadn’t agreed to marry Lord Craventhorp, nor would she ever. But if Papa wanted her to walk out alone with him, then so be it. She hoped it ruined her reputation so no other mercenary lord would ask for her hand in marriage. Then she’d be free to meet her true love.
“Shall we, Miss Leonard?” Lord Craventhorp asked.
Annabel forced a smile and allowed him to escort her to the terrace. “My dowry must be extensive indeed to attract a viscount.”
“It is.” Lord Craventhorp appeared unperturbed by her insolence.
“Well, I am sorry to disappoint you, my lord, but I won’t be marrying you, so you’ll just have to find an alternative way of saving yourself from your financial difficulties,” she said as they stepped from the terrace into the garden.
Lord Craventhorp smiled tightly but said nothing until they’d ventured farther into the garden. He stopped near a dimly lit area populated with sculpted shrubs, took hold of her upper arm, and leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “Don’t think I shall let you get away with talking to me like that once we are husband and wife.” He tightened his grip on her arm, squeezing the delicate flesh until her eyes watered from the radiating pressure. She winced, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry out in pain. “That’s right. Now, keep smiling as though I have just whispered something sweet in your ear. If you make a scene, you will only serve to embarrass yourself and your dear papa by behaving like the shopkeeper’s daughter you are.”
Annabel attempted to step out of his grasp, but he only tightened his grip.
She bit back a whimper, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he was hurting her. “Go ahead and make a scene if you wish but remember one thing—society has a long memory, and people will not forget your common behavior when your papa wants to make a good match for your sisters.”
“Let go,” Annabel hissed, “or I shall scream as loudly as possible.”
He laughed. “Feel free. I should be most entertained to watch you shrieking like a madwoman who needs to be locked away.” He drew back and released his grip.
Annabel’s upper arm throbbed, but she resisted the urge to caress her tender flesh and instead squared her shoulders.
He sneered in response to her bravado, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and held it out to her. “Now, be a good girl and dry your eyes. And when we go back inside, you will tell your papa how much you enjoyed our walk.”
