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“Yes, my lady.” Ailsa spun around to do her bidding, murmuring dire threats and uncouth allegations about the dowager’s character until out of earshot.

“It would be the coup de grâce in our pursuit for vengeance if you knapped her with child before you turned the unworthy didikko out.” A sneer curled the dowager’s thin lips.

Nausea speared Vangie. Ian meant to cast her off? Step-by-step, she slowly retreated, swallowing against another surge of nausea.

The dowager’s gaze flicked to the barn’s shadows. “Mayhap she already carries your seed?”

Ian ran a hand through his hair before shaking his head. “Not yet. Soon I hope.”

That, Vangie heard clearly.

Dear Lord. Devastation ravaged her as something irreplaceable shriveled in her center. Planting a palm against the barn’s rough siding, she fought for composure. She’d allowed herself to love Ian, and he’d used her for selfish gains. No, he’d used her in a premeditated scheme of spiteful revenge.

To what end, her heart cried? Why did he detest her so? What had she done to earn such loathing? She sucked in a bracing breath, nearly gagging at the stench of rotting manure. She withdrew several more unsteady steps, her gaze trained on Ian the whole while.

His rancor had something to do with his brother and sister. Had she ever met either? Closing her eyes, she endeavored to conjure Charlotte’s or Geoff’s face. She’d been introduced to so many people throughout the Season that trying to recall a pair of faces was futile. Surely she’d remember Ian’s sister if something untoward had occurred between them, wouldn’t she have?

And what of his brother? Did he look like Ian? There’d been no portrait of him on the gallery wall. Had she met a Geoff Hamilton? She simply couldn’t remember. A sickening thought slithered into her mind. Mayhap he’d been one of the gentlemen whose advances she’d spurned.

Her tormented mind tripped down another equally horrific path.

A child? Was that why Ian had been intimate with her last night? He wanted to impregnate her before abandoning her? Sucking in a tremulous breath, her eyes filled with tears, and her heart broke, sharp fragment by sharp fragment. The familiar queasiness welled up again, its nauseating waves clawing at her throat. She cupped her belly. Even now, did a poor, innocent babe lie there?

Righteous anger sluiced through Vangie, and she hardened her heart. From the moment she’d met him, Ian had plotted her ruination. Every caress and kind word—all were part of his perverse ploy. He was no better than the dowager. No—he was worse. Pretending anger at being forced to marry her. Making her feel guilty. Feigning affection in order to seduce her with the intent of destroying her.

Unconscionable, despicable knave.

“You’ll hurt me no more, Ian. Under Roma law, I divorce you.” Resolute, she turned away and barricaded her crushed heart, as well as her newfound love, from the man she once called husband. One could only forgive so much.

No matter what trials life brings, do not harden your heart, Nukkidai.

Vangie shook her head, purposefully turning deaf ears to the voice of wisdom whispering in her mind. Not this time, Puri Daj. By God, not this time. One doesn’t cast pearls before swine then complain when they are trampled upon.

Barely keeping his tempter in check, Ian studied Lucinda. Why did her attention keep veering beyond him?

Vangie. God damn, bloody hell.

Even before he half-turned and looked over his shoulder, he knew she stood there. At her devastated countenance, he sucked in a great gulp of air as if struck by a battering ram. Stuffing a fist to her mouth, she darted around the other side of the barn.

How long had she been standing there? How much had she heard? What exactly had she heard? Desolation had ravaged her beautiful face, and her eyes. God help him, the expression in her haunted, betrayed gaze.

“She believed me, Ian. Every calculated lie. Yes, even that you asked me to meet you here.” Lucinda laughed, an insane cackle reverberating amongst the early summer greenery. “I could see it in her eyes, stupid gypsy whore,” she gasped between her maniacal chortles.

Ian rounded on her, snarling, “Damn you, you evil, possessed bitch.” He lunged at her, itching to shake some sense into her. To punish her for what she’d done.

Stumbling backward a pace, she threw one hand to her throat, the other palm out to ward him off.

Breathing heavily, his fists clenched, he halted. “You’re not worth it. Confine yourself to the dower house and grounds until I make the arrangements for your banishment.”

Intent on pursuing his wife, he swiveled around. He’d taken a single step when Lucinda seized his arm. He tried to shake her off, but her frenzied grip was surprisingly strong. Her long nails bit into his flesh through the fabric of his coat. Witches talons.

“I want what’s mine,” Lucinda hissed, madness reflected in her glassy eyes. “You don’t deserve the settlement I brought to my marriage with Roger. Charlotte must have it.” Spittle gathered at the corner of her mouth as she clawed his arm. “She’s from my loins, not you. My monies, my lands, my holdings must go to my offspring, not Roger’s spawn.”

She’s utterly insane.

She scratched frantically at his coat. “They’re mine, mine, not yours.” Her last words ended on a shriek as he roughly shoved her away.

“You’re mad. Father long since sold the properties you brought to the marriage, and he frittered your settlement away decades ago. Every last guinea of it.” He didn’t have time for this. He must find Vangie.