She looked him in the eye. “Because I made certain he would. It wasn’t as difficult to arrange as you might think. For the better part of a year before my father died, he was . . . oh, shall we call it ill? Durham brought his suit directly to Alec, with no questions asked.”
Durham had asked her brother for her hand, and bypassed the earl entirely?What bloody rubbish.From what Cam knew of him, Durham was an honorable man. He’d never have agreed to such a scheme, unless—
My father? He never found out.
He froze, staring at her, her words echoing in his head until they began to take on a new meaning. She hadn’t said her father didn’t care about Durham’s suit, or even that he hadn’t known about it. She’d saidhe never found out.
It could only mean one thing. She and her brother had hidden the offer from her father. They’d orchestrated the proposal. Planned it, no doubt secretly, and then they’d seen to it Durham appealed to Alec for her hand, rather than to Lord Carlisle.
Ellie hadn’t wanted to marry Durham, and she knew her father would make her, regardless of her wishes. She knew he’d force her into a marriage she didn’t want.
Just as you’llforce her. . .
Cam pushed the thought away before he was obliged to examine it. “What do you mean, he was ill?”
She gave a hollow laugh. “I mean what thetonalways means when they use the word “ill” with no explanation.”
“Enlighten me.” Cam’s voice was tight.
Her face went hard. “Very well. He spent the last year of his life in a dark study, the draperies drawn, awash in drink and refusing to admit his creditors. It was a simple enough matter to hide Durham’s proposal from him.”
Jesus.Cam stared at her, shocked into silence as the fairy tale of the perfect, aristocratic family crumbled into dust. He’d told himself that tale over and over again. In his version, there’d been no happy ending for his mother. For Amelia. Forhim. Only for them, the Sutherlands, and he’d envied them bitterly for it—hated them, even. In his head, their lives had been filled with fine horses, the most extravagant balls, and a grand, wealthy father, beaming over them all with pride. With love.
It was nothing more than an illusion, then, spun to life inside the head of a lonely, angry young boy. Even when he’d grown into an adult who’d known better than to believe in fairy tales, he’d never questioned it.
Until now. Now a different picture emerged, a far uglier one.
How had he not seen it before? He knew better than anyone that Hart Sutherland was the kind of man who withheld everything he could—held it tightly, in clenched fists. Why wouldn’t he do the same to his own family?
Had he imagined their lives to be perfect so he’d be justified in his hatred for them? He’d never met them, had never even seen the Sutherlands until he returned from India. He’d fed his illusion on speculation, not fact. On fiction, not truths. Ellie accused him of believing whatever was easiest, and here was proof of it.
“If you don’t believe me,” she muttered, “ask Alec. Before you do, though, perhaps you should ask yourself what reason I have to lie.”
Christ. She’d told him the truth. Her story was too ugly to be a lie, yet as ugly as it was, he wanted the whole of it. “You said something about creditors?”
Had there been no money, then? No fine horses, and no fancy balls?
She lifted her chin, but her face was white. “One after another, each more irate than the last. Had my father chosen a less convenient time to die, we’d have lost everything. But die he did.”
Thank God. The words hung between them, unspoken. Cam didn’t know if they were his words, or hers. “Your brother inherited the title, and put things to rights.”
“Yes, and so Lady Ice was born, for I would have been compelled to accept whoever offered for me if it hadn’t been for Alec.”
Whoever offered? No matter how inferior they were, and regardless of their character. The thought made him grit his teeth. “The other five suitors, Ellie. Why did you reject them?”
She sighed, the sound so weary Cam’s own shoulders sagged. “I refused Mr. Fitzsimmons because of his mistresses. He had three of them—at least, three that I knew of. Perhaps he had more. And I saw no reason why my dowry should go toward settling Lord Ponsonby’s gaming debts. Twenty thousand pounds lost at hazard seemed sufficient enough reason to refuse him.”
Thank God for Alec Sutherland.
For such a woman to be wasted onwhomever offered—it seemed nothing short of criminal, and yet aristocratic ladies like Ellie were sold to the highest bidder every day, all across England. It was the way of things, and the aristocracy never blinked at it.
And he was no better.
No, he was worse, because he didn’t even intend to buy her. He intended to steal her. Intended to, and would still, no matter that his chest went tight at the thought, for he hadn’t any choice. Or, rather, he did, but the choice was no choice at all, for he’d always choose Amelia over any of the Sutherlands.
So he would steal her, and he’d stealfromher too, just as Julian warned him he would.
“But what of Durham? He’s as unobjectionable as they come. Plenty of young ladies would be thrilled to have him.”
