“Were you not equally disrespected and dismissed, all responsibility for your wellbeing, and mine, cruelly disavowed by her class?”
“Jasper,” she chastened, “you are not your sire. I did not raise you to be such a man. And if you think that treating your wife the way I was once treated avenges past wrongs, you misunderstand entirely, son, what I wished to give you in life.”
Milton pushed back his chair, irked by his mother’s stern tone. He was not avenging past wrongs, he wasrightingthem. Elizabeth must understand what she would face as his wife. She must be willing to defend his hard-won title, position, and interests, not to mention protect their children from insult. He was reclaiming his birthright—or as close to it as he could get. His mother’s blood was just as good as his bloody sire’s. He’d prove that man wrong or die trying.
Milton stormed from the table to retrieve what was his, but alarmingly found no sign of Elizabeth outside the dining room.
He began to push open doors, startling whores inside who either slept like the dead or blew him lazy kisses. He ignored them and hollered down the hall, “Elizabeth Winthrop, show yourself!”
Silence.
Once again, his betrothed infuriated, even if she’d behaved exactly as he’d wished. She’d held her head high as she’d stormed from their luncheon—a lady through and through. Elizabeth was the ideal mate for dealing with toffs, but damned difficult to manage otherwise.
Milton’s ire grew as he pushed into more rooms. And then an ear-splitting scream pierced the air.
Lizzie.
He ran toward the shriek, tearing open more doors until he found her, and the man atop her.
***
Elizabeth had been toppled, a hand now smothering her cries. Fingers raked her thigh and shoved her legs apart, though she fought back with all her might. Still, she was no match against her assailant’s awful weight. Despair laced her limbs just as the door flew open and her attacker was bodily lifted off her, hitting the wall with a thud.
“You bloody, sodding scumbag!”
Milton’s face swam before her in a blur as thumps and grunts filled the room, the sickening sound of fist on flesh refusing to stop as her attacker fell limp beneath the Baron’s repeated blows. Good God, he was murdering a man before her very eyes!
Three large fellows burst in to separate Milton from his prey, but Elizabeth found she could not cease screaming, her throat becoming raw, dry. Dark skirts swooped in to clap a hand to her mouth, urginghush, girl, hush! Those hands pulled her from the room as Milton’s punches echoed in her head, the sounds so thick and awful she was suddenly, violently sick, tossing her lunch all over the hall floor. Hands swept her hair from her face as she heaved two more times and then collapsed, shaking, into the arms that held her.
Those arms rocked her gently and whispered words that only gradually, groggily made sense.You fine, brave girl. My son’s an arse and a half. I’ll box his ears for bringing you here, I will.
Madam Audrey.
Elizabeth was adjusting to reality when new arms lifted her away. She was carried to a room and smothered in an embrace, kisses rained on her head.
“Lizzie.” Milton’s voice cracked.
She did not answer. She sank into the safety of his strong, capable hold, though he smelled of sweat and rage. Never mind she’d wished to flee him not half an hour before.
She breathed, in and out, counting her blessings slowly, deliberately in her head. One, she felt safe. Two, she’d been spared. Three, Milton had come for her, protected her.
But he protected her only from others’ attacks. Not his own.
“Luv, did that man?—”
“Ruin me?” Elizabeth pulled from him, her sense of safety snapped in two. “Did he spoil your virgin prize, steal your purchased property?” She tried to disengage from him but he held her tight.
“That is not?—”
“That is exactly what you meant.” She pushed him away, hurt. “Because that is all I am to you. All I’ve been from the moment we met.” Hot tears welled in her eyes. “So don’t you ‘Lizzie, luv’ me, sir. I will not marry you tomorrow. My father will pay back every pound you?—”
“Christ, woman. That is not at all what I meant, and even if?—”
“If?” Her voice rose. “Even if I’d just been ruined you’d what—wait a month to make sure I was without child before you married me? Turn me out if I were?”
Milton’s face bloomed red, but before he could reply his mother swept into the room, a maid at her heels.
“That ispreciselywhat he’d do.” Madam Audrey glared at her son. “My boy does not deserve you, Miss Winthrop.”
