Ciaran had said from the start he thought her uncle was in debt to Godfrey, but he could never have guessed how bad it was. The gaming debt, and all those tradesman’s bills…
Five thousand, three hundred, and six pounds.
Lucy dropped her gaze to her lap, but in an instant Ciaran was there, capturing her chin in his fingers and raising her face to his. “He didn’t…touch you, did he? Your uncle, or Godfrey? Tell me at once, Lucy! I can’t bear—”
“No!” Lucy pressed her fingers to Ciaran’s lips to quiet him. “No, that’s not it. It’s the debt, Ciaran. You were right all along. My uncle owes Lord Godfrey a great deal of money.”
“How do you know?” Ciaran’s eyes were bleak.
Lucy hesitated. He wasn’t going to like this, but a lie would only complicate things. In any case, she couldn’t lie to Ciaran. “Eloisa and I went to Uncle Jarvis’s study last night and rifled through his desk.”
Even in the dim light, Lucy saw Ciaran’s face go white. His mouth opened but he remained silent. When he did speak, the words sounded as if they’d been torn from his throat. “Do you know—do you have even the slightest inkling what he would have done to you if he’d caught you, Lucy? You can’t…I can’t…he might havehurtyou.”
“But he didn’t. He was out all evening. We were very careful, and he knows nothing about it. We found his accounting book, and…oh, Ciaran. It’s so much worse than we thought.”
“How much?” Two words only, but so harsh they sliced through the quiet of the carriage like a whip.
Oh, God, she didn’t want to tell him. As soon as she said the number aloud there would be no taking it back, no pretending this wasn’t real—
“How much, Lucy?”
Lucy tried to jerk away from him, but Ciaran wouldn’t let her go. He tipped her chin up higher, so she couldn’t avoid that wild blue gaze.
“More than five thousand pounds,” Lucy whispered, but she might as well have screamed the words for the effect they had on Ciaran.
He sucked in a shocked breath, and his entire body tensed. She saw his throat move in a swallow before he said in a strangled voice, “Enough. This stops now, Lucy. It has to. You can’t deny any longer how dangerous this is.”
An image of Uncle Jarvis’s red, furious face rose in Lucy’s mind, and a shudder passed over her. “I don’t deny it, no.”
“That isn’t all, is it?” He released her chin, but his hand stayed on her face, his fingertips on her jaw. “Tonight, on the dance floor. Godfrey forced you to remain for three dances, didn’t he?”
Lucy hesitated. Godfrey had indeed forced her, but she didn’t want to admit it to Ciaran. He’d nearly torn Godfrey limb from limb in the ballroom, and now he looked as if he were ready to leap from the carriage and hunt Godfrey down. “He was a trifle insistent, yes, but he didn’t precisely force—”
“Stop it, Lucy.” Ciaran’s fingers remained gentle on her face, but his jaw looked ready to shatter. “Stop acting as if you’re not in danger. Do you realize all thetonnow thinks you’re betrothed to him?”
“Betrothed to him?” Lucy stared at him, dumbfounded. “Why should they think that?”
“Because a lady doesn’t dance with a gentleman more than twice unless they have an understanding, Lucy. That’s why your uncle forced you to allow Godfrey to take you to the floor in the first place. Don’t you see? They planned this. They want all of London to think you and Godfrey are betrothed, to try and force you into a marriage.”
Lucy stared at him, stunned. How could her uncle be so cruel, so manipulative? She’d never imagined anyone could behave so viciously. A raw, dry laugh tore from her throat. “They don’t know me very well then, do they? I don’t care a fig for what anyone thinks. If refusing to marry Lord Godfrey after dancing three times with him ruins my reputation, then so be it. I don’t intend to ever marry anyway, so what difference does it make?”
Ciaran let his hand drop away and stabbed his fingers through his hair. “You don’t understand. If Jarvis and Godfrey will go so far as to publicly expose you, there’s no telling what else they’ll do. When I think I might have left you here in London, alone and unprotected…”
He muttered this last part, as if he was speaking more to himself than to her, but Lucy heard him and her spine stiffened. “I told you once before, Ciaran. I’m not alone. I have Eloisa and my Aunt Jarvis, and Lady Felicia, Lord Vale, and Lord Markham—”
“None of whom can do a damn thing to protect you if this business turns any uglier. Your cousin and aunt care for you, but they’re terrified of Jarvis, and what do you suppose our friends can do?”
“They could…that is, I can’t imagine they’d allow…” Lucy’s voice faded. She fell back against the squabs, her heart rushing into her throat. She wasn’t a piece of property. Surely Uncle Jarvis couldn’t simply do whatever he pleased with her?
“Jarvis is your guardian, Lucy. That doesn’t give him a legal right to force you into anything, but practically, what do you plan to do if he attempts it? Complain to the Court of Chancery?” Ciaran let out a bitter laugh. “You’ll be married to Godfrey with a half-dozen children clinging to your skirts before they ever get around to hearing your case.”
Lucy couldn’t deny it was true. She was certain her Uncle Jarvis was already stealing money from her trust, but what could she do to stop him? He’d have to give an accounting of her fortune to the court eventually, yes, but there were dozens of ways he could excuse the withdrawals. Uncle Jarvis was coarse and grasping, but clever when it came to saving his own skin.
“I have an idea.” Ciaran took her hand, his large palm swallowing her fingers. “It’s not ideal, but it would protect you from—”
“No.” Lucy already knew what he was going to say. “I won’t leave London, Ciaran.”
“Listen to me, Lucy—”
