Anna shuddered, wishing she could tighten the sash around her waist, but she wouldn’t cower. She learned early that men like her cousin enjoyed when a woman was made small. Square-shouldered, she raised her chin and enunciated, “I am not, and have never been a man’s mistress. Whatever reasons led you here to insult me are unfounded. Except one.” She held herself straighter still, using the flimsy soles of her slippers to dig her heels into the rug underfoot. “I am indeed a duchess,the Duchess of Grandfellow. A position far superior to yours and one demanding respect.”
His lip curled, his expression turning to unmasked disgust. Then it wavered, replaced with a slimy smile. “What would your precious duke think if I told him how you begged and pleaded to share my bed? How generous would you be to keep me quiet?”
Anna recoiled at such a ruthless attempt at extortion. No matter what ugliness still lingered between her and Jackson, she knew he would never be taken in by such baseless lies. “Jackson would never believe you.”
His smile widened. “Are you sure?”
She raised her chin further. “Yes.”
His mouth pressed into a tight line. Her uncle’s gambling and love of drink had never been a lucrative combination. Even before she’d escaped to London with William, Rochester Manor had begun falling into disrepair.
She would not be the one to see that evil house restored.
Standing, she stared her cousin down, letting him see her resolve. “You will not see a penny from me or my husband.Financial security—and failings—are the joy and torment of every heir.”
Alexander stood as well, his height far greater than hers. “How unchristian of you.” He stepped closer, crowding her. “What would your dear father think of your lack of charity toward your only remaining family?”
“Leave,” she said sharply. “You are unwelcome.”
He only smiled at her show of temper. “We’ll see.”
He bowed with an exaggerated flourish as he turned on his heel... and stopped.
Anna followed his frozen expression to the dark figure taking up the entire frame of the door.
Her heart squeezed.
Jack.
He was here and listening. And had been for some time, judging by the murderous gleam in his eyes.
That squeezing turned crushing.
He’d heard Alexander’s threats—must have realized the torment went far deeper.
She stepped forward, and those sea-washed eyes locked with hers.
A second of weightlessness, of letting the waves take her under.
“Duchess,” he said, his voice low, inhuman.
“Duke,” she whispered.
A softening around his eyes. Not so much a flicked glance at Alexander. A twitch of his hand. Not a twitch.
Are you all right?he signed.
Anna’s hands were still shaking. Her response took three tries:I am unharmed.
Shall I rid the stash?
Her heart pounded.Rid the stash. More of their secret code. But she knew he hadn’t meant to ask if he should hide somethingthat would get them in deep trouble with the housekeeper or his father.
Rid the stash—or—should I throw the trash out?
He’d heard everything, and he hadn’t stepped in once.
Letting her fight her own battle without interruption.
