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But…she couldn’t. Not anymore. Not with her memories of the Honeysetts forefront in her mind. Lying had been the very thing to make her teeter too close to the point of the cliff, and keeping secrets to herself had sent her over the edge.

With a deep breath and knowing all of the implications that would come from telling the truth, she stood from her chair and faced Mr. Foss directly.

“I was in Sennen, Mr. Foss,” she stated simply. “But—”

“Morvoren,” Uncle interrupted sharply.

“I suggest that you let her speak, Truscott,” Mr. Foss said with a look of warning.

Uncle’s eyes widened to the point of hysteria, and even Mr. Richard Foss turned to watch how the drama unfolded, as he became apparently aware that something of interest to him was occurring.

But Morvoren didn’t care who watched. The game was up, the contract was finished. She had been instructed to never do anything that would jeopardize her relationship with her future in-laws, but then…wouldn’t lying do that? Let Uncle have her head. Let him press charges, threaten her, injure her. Let him starve her, for all she cared.

She was done being his pawn. She would not let another family—even one like the Fosses—become entangled with him without their full knowledge of Uncle’s many flaws.

“I was in Sennen,” she began again, her voice soft yet confident, “but only for a few hours. The rest of my time was spent in a small fishing hamlet with a family of drifters. And one of them was, indeed, an unmarried male.”

Mr. Foss didn’t appear surprised, though the veins in Uncle’s forehead bulged bright blue against his reddened skin.

Mr. Richard Foss stepped forward from the window with a frown. “What can you mean by this behavior?” he asked. “Living in such a way when you knew you were to marry me?”

Morvoren had done her best to hide her disgust of Mr. Foss for a fortnight. She’d turned a blind eye to his repulsive behavior and pretended she could live with such a man as her husband. But now, he had the audacity to call out her own actions while knowing full-well what he himself had done?

She huffed out a cold laugh. “This coming from the man who left the ball last evening with a woman under each arm—again?”

His eyes widened, and he looked away, no doubt to hide his blush. His father’s lip twitched.

Before Morvoren could decipher if he was hiding a smile or not, Uncle stepped toward her, gripping her arm.

“You must be ill, niece,” he said through gritted teeth. “Why else would you be speaking such nonsense? Come, you must rest.”

He tried to pull her toward the door, but she wrenched her arm free. “No, Uncle. The truth is out. Ain’t no reason to hide it now.”

She felt the beginnings of her accent starting to blossom within her, stretching out its petals that had lain dormant for too long as they reached toward the sun.

“The truth? You can hardly know the truth if you are not well,” Uncle said, attempting again to reach toward her, but she sidestepped him.

“I would listen to your niece if I were you, Mr. Truscott,” the elder Mr. Foss said. “End the charade before you make a further fool of yourself.” He motioned to his son. “Richard, shall we?”

The father and son moved to the door, Mr. Richard Foss glancing at Morvoren with a wary gaze, unsure if she’d reveal something else she knew about him.

“So…I won’t be marrying Miss Hollow, then?”

Mr. Foss glanced back with a look of impatience. “No, son. You will not.”

A lightness filled Morvoren, a jittery feeling overcoming each of her limbs as the words settled happily within her mind.

He was not going to marry her? She would not have to marry him?

Uncle rushed forward, attempting to prevent their departure. “But Mr. Foss, we have not even discussed the future of our companies.”

“As it happens, sir, I think it best if we do not merge our companies after all.”

“But-but, do not act so rashly, Mr. Foss. These plans have been in the works for months now.”

“Yes, they have,” Mr. Foss responded calmly, the perfect juxtaposition to Uncle’s pulsing veins and spitting words. “And truth be told, I’ve been having misgivings about the entire matter since we began.”

Mr. Foss left the room, his son a step behind him as Uncle trailed after them. Morvoren scurried to the door as their conversation continued, anxious to hear their words. She paused in the doorway, watching as the Fosses were brought their coats and hats.