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“Is Millie—”

“She is unharmed, but not unaffected. Still, I don’t believe she will face any lasting damage.”

Lenora chewed on her lip, attempting to comprehend. “So Willard’s untoward attentions led to Harbury’s feigned illness, and now Millie is marrying Neville?”

Eliza nodded. “Those are the essentials.”

The abrupt twist seemed nonsensical.

Millie hated Neville. She called him the little lordling and never missed an opportunity to poke fun at his unusually somber reserve.

But Asquith had wondered aloud the other morning if Millie’s dislike for Neville was genuine. And a few months ago, Emily had suggested the same thing.

Asquith, at least, should have known better. Millie didn’t pretend. Millie was resolute, as sharp-eyed as she was quick-witted.

And if Millie was marrying Neville, Asquith had to have given his permission. He must have coerced her into taking such a drastic action.

“Asquith did this,” Lenora muttered.

“No,” Eliza countered. “I am confident marrying Neville is Millie’s choice.”

That Lenora could not believe.

Just the other night, when Neville strode toward Millie across Almack’s assembly rooms, Millie had been desperate enough to accept Willard’s offer to dance.

And that same night, Millie had declared she’d rather be notorious than leg-shackled.

Why would she leg-shackle herself—and to the little lordling, no less—a mere two days later?

Lenora shook her head. “If Millie married Neville, she only did so because she saw no alternative!”

Asquith. How could he have been so heavy-handed, so cruel?

She paced to the window and back to the bed, finding no outlet for the distress building inside.

Asquith knew Millie.

He knew she would wither under a staunchly moral husband, and yet he’d used that knowledge against her. He’d shoved Millie down a path she’d find the hardest, likely justifying his callousness as benevolent protection.

In this moment, Asquith’s cruelty felt even worse than her father’s because Asquith’s tools were deliberation and calm.

“I am stunned,” Lenora practically spat, “stunned Asquith showed so little regard for Millie’s feelings.” Or pride. Or dignity. “What a tyrant!”

“Asquith?” Eliza recoiled. “What is wrong with you, Lenora?”

Lenora stomped again.

“Bother your love-deluded brain!” Eliza didn’t grasp the situation correctly. Eliza’s husband was devoted to her, loved her openly and dearly. “Have you forgotten our parents?”

“Of course not,” Eliza shot back. “I would never subject Millie to such a fate as our mother’s. Nor, as you have ample evidence to know, would Asquith force any of us to do anything.”

Lenora threw up her hands. “And yet you just said Millie is wedding Neville as we speak!”

“May I remind you, you admire Neville?”

“But Millie does not. She had to be out of her mind to agree to this.” Lenora was feeling a little out of her mind, too. “What was she like last night?”

Eliza turned her head toward the window, as if she could see last-night Millie through the glass. “I suppose you are right in this, but only this—she was not herself. She’d just suffered a terrible ordeal.”