He came nearer. “Don’t pretend to be stupid. You’re a clever, conniving wench who knows how to turn matters to her advantage. Which is why I mean to make you my whore. It’s the least you owe me for ruining my plans.”
“What?” Her blood turned stone-cold. “You’ve lost your mind.” She turned to go back to the house.
But he caught her arm in an iron grip. “Whenyougo missing, everyone will assume you ran off with a man, too, though no one will guess thatI’mthe culprit.” He started dragging her toward the entrance to the garden. “I’ll place you in suitable London lodgings, where I can visit you at my whim . . . once I’ve taught you the appropriate respect, that is.”
“That’s ridiculous!” she hissed, struggling against him. Wherewaseveryone?
She kicked at him, and he loosened his grip on her arm with a grunt of pain. Pivoting away from him, she ran for the door to the house.
“Youbitch!”he cried. “I’ll make you pay for that!”
Suddenly, Heywood loomed up in front of her. Pushing her behind him, he launched himself at Mr. Malet with a roar.
As the two men rolled around in the garden, she hesitated at the door, wondering if she should get help. But it rapidly became apparent that Heywood didn’t need any.
He had Mr. Malet pinned to the ground and was pummeling him. “This is for Valeria,” he growled as he punched him in the face. “This is for Kitty.” He punched the man again.
Then he rose and dragged a staggering Mr. Malet up with him. “And this is fordaringto touch my fiancée.” He gave the scoundrel a third punishing blow, and Mr. Malet crumpled at his feet.
Fiancée?Did he mean it?
Heywood kicked Mr. Malet. “Get up, you coward. Next time you’ll think twice about picking on my woman.” He spat on the ground. “You come here again, you arse, and you’d better bring an army with you because I swear I’ll kill you.”
A new voice came from the entrance to the garden. “He did bring an army, Brother. Fortunately, they were no match for me and Joshua. I needed the exercise after being cooped up in a coach all morning, and Joshua needed someone upon whom to vent his spleen.”
Cass looked over to find two of the handsomest fellows she’d ever seen—except for Heywood, of course. One had wavy black hair and eerie bluish-green eyes while the other had long and straight black hair and hazel eyes. It was only after the latter fellow moved closer that she realized he had something wrong with his leg and was using a cane.
But apparently that was his only deficit, for he shoved a rough-looking blackguard ahead of him, as did the first man. Both blackguards looked rather the worse for wear.
“Grab your master and get out,” Heywood told Mr. Malet’s henchmen.
Grumbling to themselves, they took one arm each and hauled Mr. Malet out of the garden.
Cass flew to Heywood’s side. “Are you all right?” She took out her handkerchief and dabbed away blood from his split lip.
Heywood gazed down at her with his heart in his eyes. “I should be asking you that.”
“No,” drawled the fellow with the blue-green eyes. “You should be asking what has possessed her to agree to marry a rapscallion like you.”
Looping an arm about her waist, Heywood pulled her close. “Cass, this is my older half brother, the Duke of Greycourt, and that fellow there is my cousin, Joshua Wolfe, who lives on the estate. Grey and Joshua, this is Miss Cassandra Isles, my fiancée. If she’ll have me.”
“You mean you haven’taskedher yet?” Grey said.
“Not the way I should have,” Heywood admitted.
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Joshua said. “Your family has a disturbing tendency to stumble into your proposals of marriage.”
“Ah, but even stumbling proposals of marriage work in the end,” Grey said. “Just ask my wife.”
Heywood groaned. “I suppose you two are going to plague me about my marrying.”
“Not me,” Grey said. “Beatrice would have something to say about that if I did.”
“I would indeed,” a woman’s voice answered him. “Fortunately, you know better.”
The woman who came through the garden entrance was strikingly tall and brandished a pistol. “They’re all gone.”
Grey frowned. “I told you to stay in the coach.”
