Page 139 of The Betrothal

He smiled, entertained. “Oh, I know.”

I liked him.

“Ester, out!” He swung to the woman who I assumed was his wife.

The spitting cobra opened her mouth to argue but thought better of it at the look he gave her and her demeanour shifted to pure disgust, but Sam barely acknowledged it.

He strode to where Seb held Isabelle in the corner, muttering a quick introduction to Seb, then turned his attention to the woman on the floor. “Sophie, please keep me informed on her condition?”

Sophie looked up at him, smiled and nodded.

Two people we could trust.

An outraged huff drew everyone’s attention back to Ester where she had actually fallen silent, the woman evidently uncomfortable with being dismissed or disregarded. Sam then led her from the room, the stomping of her footfalls telling everyone exactly what she thought of his intervention.

“Sophie?” I asked. The woman swivelled to face me, her hands still stroking Isabelle. “Could I ask you to collect some of Isabelle’s things?”

Sophie frowned, looking back to Isabelle’s unconscious form. Seb murmured a reassurance and she rose tall. Looking between the people in the room with evident mistrust and judgement.

I really liked her.

“What do you need?” she asked.

“Whatever you think, we can send for the rest.”

She laid her hand on Isabelle once more before she strode from the room, calling for someone. The tatters of her skirt trailing behind her.

I schooled my smile and looked to the men, and the mother.

They all glared at me.

“Care to explain yourself?” Edmund was icy, the Fairchilds vibrating beside him.

I arched a brow and his body stiffened in anger. Good.

“Perhaps you should be explaining to me why you kidnapped my wife?” I countered.

Theodore began to shout something that was cut off by his father.

“We kidnapped no-one. My daughter was missing, she was located on the coast and returned to us,” Edmund replied.

“So, you were simply collecting your property?” The disgust bled into my voice.

The mother protested and was hushed. Archibald, Edmund and I held the authority in the room, and she and Theodore clearly hated it.

“She cannot be wed,” Edmund argued. “I have not authorised a union and she was betrothed.”

“To my son!” Archibald added.

“Oh, I know that.” I threw the most dismissive of glances at Theodore who pulled himself taller, his lips thinned in his attempt to remain silent.

“This cannot be,” Edmund continued and I became bored with the posturing.

“Did you ask her?” I accused.

Edmund’s stony silence was all the admission I needed.

“Exactly. Did you speak with her? No. You just drugged her and hid her.” I didn’t even try to hide the absolute fury I felt.