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Meg’s windpipe sealed shut as instantly as if someone had closed a fist around it.

Anthony was in the doorway with his hand outstretched towards her. To the ladies watching, nothing would have looked amiss, but Meg froze as she felt the full weight of his stare.

She didn’t move. There was nothing she wanted less in the entire world than to take that hand, but Isabella either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

‘Do go, Margaret. I’m sure my husband only wants to make sure you’re perfect friends again.’

‘Of course.’ Anthony smiled, although fresh dread bloomed to see it went no further than his mouth. ‘I wouldn’t want there to be any misunderstanding that my dear sister-in-law and I are anything but.’

He beckoned to her and she had no choice but to go to him. While the other ladies watched she couldn’t escape having to slip her fingers into his palm, instinctive revulsion coursing through her as his grip instantly tightened around them.

‘I won’t steal your guest for long, Isabella. Just a moment or two.’

With the horrible feeling she was stepping into a trap, she let him draw her from the room. Out in the hall she cast around desperately, hoping against hope that Jacob would appear to save her, but there was no one but Anthony as he closed the door behind them.

Without a word he dragged her into a side corridor. Now there was nobody to see them, his grasp on her hand grew harder, his fingers digging into her skin as he towed her along. He stank of wine and rage, and Meg could hardly breathe for fright, pressing herself back against the corridor wall when he finally let her go.

‘What do you want with me, my lord? You gave Jacob your word that you wouldn’t harm me.’

‘And I intend to keep it. Don’t be alarmed. As I said, this won’t take long.’ He loomed over her, making her shrink back even further. ‘I’ve been making some discreet enquiries. Your father is the tenant of Lark Cottage, I understand, and farms a plot nearby?’

‘Yes, but—’

‘I hear he was injured recently. He must be struggling to work. I think, given the circumstances, it would be a kindness if I relieved him of the burden.’

Meg’s mouth sagged open. ‘You mean throw him off the land?’

She stared up at him, appalled. He was smiling again, this time with undisguised nastiness, and she was seized with the sudden burning desire to wipe it from his face. ‘You can’t do that!’

‘Of course I can. It’s my land and I can do with it whatever I wish.’

Her legs felt weak and blood had begun to rush loudly in her ears, making it near impossible to summon a coherent thought. ‘My family has worked that plot for generations,’ she choked out. ‘If we have neither cottage nor farm my father will have to quit the village, and I know he’d rather die himself than leave where my mother and sisters are buried.’

Anthony tutted. ‘Then I suppose you’d best ask my brother to buy you a black dress.’ With obvious glee he leaned down, so close to her she could smell the alcohol clinging to his whiskers. ‘I warned you not to cross me. You did so anyway. I can’t be held responsible for the consequences of your actions.’

He paused, considering. ‘I’ll do it next week, I think. I’m a fair man. I’ll give your father one more Sunday to go the graveyard to pay his respects. That’s what he does, isn’t it?’

The Viscount straightened up again, stepping back with a mocking bow. His grin was monstrous and Meg quailed to see it widen as he abruptly withdrew, leaving her slumped against the corridor wall unable to speak or move.

Slowly she stood up. Her head spun and her mouth was dry, but it wasn’t her physical discomfort that caused a wave of despair to crash over her like the tide against the shore.

What have I done?

For the sake of winning one pointless argument, she had caused her family to lose their home. That was the bleak truth, and she had nowhere to flee from it, the magnitude of her mistake crushing her where she stood.

Blind to everything around her, she stumbled towards the stairs. There was no possibility of her returning to the parlour. It was laughable to think she could sit with the ladies, chatting and drinking tea while her father and brother were about to have everything taken away from them, and the knowledge she was entirely to blame was a horror the likes of which she’d never known.

How did I manage to make things even worse?

She was too numb to register anything but anguish, and that placed her in danger she didn’t suspect. If she’d been more alert, she would have noticed she wasn’t alone. If her heart hadn’t been breaking, she would have sensed someone lurking just out of sight for the duration of that whole disastrous conversation, listening with growing shock—and she might somehow have been able to prevent the fact that Isabella had heard every word, her secret now in the hands of one of the very people she’d been trying to keep it from.

Chapter Nine

Meg lay very still, listening to Jacob breathing quietly in his heap of blankets on the floor. He was still fast asleep and she was glad of it, taking great pains not to wake him as she began to slide towards the edge of the bed.

Waiting for dawn to break had been a torment. If she could have slipped out during the night she would have done, but the risk of meeting Anthony’s gamekeepers as she was crashing through the woods was too great. If they’d caught her again, she might not have been as lucky as she’d been before, their master no doubt having told them to show no mercy to anyone that even stumbled onto his land accidentally. With the grey dawn light to guide her she’d have a better chance of seeing them coming, able to avoid them as she ran through the trees to tell her father the bad news.

I need to warn him. If he knows what Anthony’s planning, perhaps there might be something he could do to stop it.