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A tall man with a red face and mud on his clothes stood too close to Grieves, his eyes sweeping the hall before landing on Adam.

The man froze. “Y—your Grace!” the man exclaimed. “I… I apologize for the intrusion. I am the Earl of Clarkston and⁠—”

“You are an intruder, nonetheless,” Adam said coldly, his aim not wavering in the slightest. “Barging into my home in the dead of night, while my daughter is asleep. So you will explain yourself before you take another step.”

Or I will take out your kneecaps.

But Adam didn’t need to say that part out loud.

The earl adjusted himself accordingly, though his arrogance did not let him lower his head.

“Of course,” Clarkston drew himself up. “My daughter, Juliet, is a runaway. She is engaged to Viscount Penhurst, who is a very favorable match with very respectable terms, and this match has my full approval.

“The wedding should have been this morning, but she helped herself to one of our horses, and I have been searching since dawn. Her grandmother refuses to give me any information whatsoever, but I obtained details from another member of that household who confirmed that she was heading here.” He looked past Adam to the parlor. “I am here to collect her.”

Collect her, he said. As though she were a mere trinket.

When Adam turned his head, he saw Lady Juliet hovering by the door leading into the parlor, shaking as though a strong draft had blown in.

The woman was terrified. Just like…

Adam shook his head to clear it.

“Come, Juliet,” Clarkston said to his daughter. “You have already made enough of a spectacle.”

When she did not move, however, the earl’s face crumpled into a near-devilish mask, and he marched toward her angrily.

“You are an impudent wretch,” he gritted out, low and rigid, “and you will marry Penhurst if I have to escort you to the altar myself⁠—”

Without thinking, Adam stepped in between them. “Step back.”

The earl blinked, his expression muddling into one of confusion. “Your Grace, this does not concern you⁠—”

Adam’s lips turned down in disgust. “I will not have you threatening a lady inside my house.”

The earl smiled with relief. “My apologies. We will be leaving now.” He said it as though Adam had meant that it was all right to threaten the woman outside his house. He was going to do just that.

“Come, Juliet⁠—”

Adam took a step forward. “I thought I told you to step back, Lord Clarkston.”

Now, the earl’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head as he scrambled back. “Your Grace, what is the meaning of this? My daughter must leave! She’s set to marry Lord Penhurst! I must bring her home!”

As the man barked the command, his hand flew out in a sudden gesture.

And from the corner of his eye, Lady Juliet visibly flinched. Adam saw it.

A white-hot fury surged through the duke; he couldn’t stomach the casual, callous brutality with which the monster treated his own flesh and blood.

As he looked into Juliet’s terrified, pleading eyes, Adam resolved that he would burn the world down before he ever let her leave with that man.

“You will not be taking Lady Juliet anywhere,” he declared.

“Wha—What? Your Grace?” The earl fumbled his words.

Then Adam spoke clearly to the room. “Lady Juliet cannot marry Penhurst. She is already promised to me.”

Chapter Three