“And do you regret that choice? Were it better she’d married me so thatyoufell prey to Finch instead?”
She scowled. “Neither option is tenable, sir. And you should have told me this news at once, rather than ask me to?—”
“And what difference would that have made, Lizzie, eh? Tell me how that would have changed a goddamned, blasted thing.” It took all his willpower not to suddenly weep.
“If we leave for Gretna right now and spare no haste?—”
“They are at least a full day’s journey underway, two if they drove through the night. We’d never catch them, it is futile.”
“You say that just to dissuade me,” she accused. “Youmeanfor him to marry her. You planned this all along! Keeping me in the dark on purpose, telling me nothing of your past with Finch. You trust me even less than Bella and Papa do. And what have I done to warrant such treatment? Notoneof you has seen fit to tell me anything at all, and I’ll be damned if?—”
He shut her up the only way he knew how, with a brutal kiss, though she fought his lips as much as she fought his grip, pushing him off.
“I will not be silenced in such base manner! I will bloody ride to Scotland myself to stop them!”
Milton steadied his emotions in order to objectively assess his wife, all fire and brimstone yet again, wild eyes shooting daggers at him. She was just mad enough to saddle a horse and take off, which was the last thing in the world he needed when she might very well be?—
The image of her round with child momentarily terrified him.
He swallowed his fear fast. “Elizabeth, nothing we do now will stop Arthur Harris from marrying your sister, but it is not so awful a fate.”
“Don’t tell me what is not awful,” she fumed. “I know what it is to be at the mercy of a man, atyourmercy. That, sir, is married woman’s fate. Why, you treat the servants better than you treat me! You speak to them as equals, allow them familiar use of your name. You behave toward them in every way as friend and family, whereas me you treat like?—”
He physically shook sense into her. “Woman, stop behaving like a hellcat and start acting like an adult.”
“Hellcat?” Her voice pitched higher. “Oh I’ll give you a hellcat, Baron. I’ll make yourue the day we married. Rue the day you stole me from my home, stole my sister from me, stoleallthat I hold dear!”
She was spinning out of reach, trapped in a spiral she could neither quell nor contain. He knew that maelstrom well.
“Give me your glasses,” he ordered.
“No! I shall not be?—”
“Now, Lizzie,” he repeated. “No argument. Give them to me or I shall take them from you.”
“Rot in hell, Jasper.” She spat his name like it was poison.
And rot in hell he likely would, he thought, plucking her spectacles from her face to slip into his breast pocket, then spinning her around to secure her hands behind her back. He marched her to a footstool, where he sat himself down and deposited her over his lap.
The moment he lifted her skirts she opened her mouth to protest. “You cannot?—!”
“Elizabeth, I do this for your own good.”
“It is abuse of power! You wish to humiliate me, degrade me!”
Down came the first crack, knocking the wind from her lungs. “Count for me, Lizzie.”
“No!” she howled. “I will not do your?—”
“Two.” He laid into her other cheek.
“—bidding, blast you!”
“Count, woman,” he urged more sternly.
“No, you filthy, sodding—” Her words were swallowed short by his fourth wallop.
“Elizabeth.” His tone brooked no argument. “Count.”
