“I am pleased you think so, now that this is to be your home,” he said wryly.
“And when the scandal sheets spurn you and your mother for your part in forcing me into a marriage against my will, will she be pleased then?”
Lord Ramsbury sank back in his chair. “There will be no such gossip for them to titillate the masses with. The story will be as follows: you had a change of heart after you realized what a licentious monster the Duke is, I graciously accepted you back into my affections, and we were married without delay.”
“No one will believe it,” she muttered, uncertain.
“Maybe not, but they will soon forget that there was any upheaval. They will move on to the next juicy morsel, and we shall be left in peace.”
That, she did not doubt. The scandal sheets might have been quick to judge, but they were also quick to forget. Within a week, there would be a bigger and better story for society to sink its teeth into.
“A dowry is not an income,” she said, changing tactics. “It will run out. Then, what will you do?”
His face clouded over, his eyes cold. “I mean to invest some of it, as my father should have done instead of gambling it all away. I will not make the same mistakes as him.Iwill not allow this house to fall into further disrepair.”
So, that was the reason he was doing all of this. He wasdestitute.
“You could sell the manor,” she suggested. “Begin again in a smaller property. I imagine there are some bad memories in this house if?—”
“Sell?” Lord Ramsbury barked, tea sloshing in his cup. “Sell my home? Sell my mother’s home? Have everyone know my business simply because my father was a wretch who squandered everything? I would rather die than sell this manor.”
Itwasa nice house. Selina could imagine how beautiful it had been in its prime. With the dawn beginning to lighten the world outside, she could see the expansive lawns—they needed a rather comprehensive trim—and the woodland in the distance. A fine place, indeed, with some money to fix it.
But she wasnotgoing to be the one to provide it.
“Despite what you have done, I do not want to see undue harm come to you,” she said with a breath. “It is not too late to let me go back to Philip. If I speak to him, I am sure we could find another way to solve your problem.”
Lord Ramsbury’s lip curled. “I willneveraccept charity. Why should I, when I already have the solution?” He glanced toward the window. “It will be a fine day for a wedding.”
“I shan’t recite any vows. I shan’t say ‘I do.’ There will be no marriage,” she warned.
Lurching out of his chair, his face close to hers, his hands braced on the armrests, his eyes flashed a warning of their own. “Youwilldo as you are told. Besides, I know the priest well. He does not need to hear your agreement to wed us.”
At that moment, as if summoned, the sound of a bell rang through the house. Someone was at the front door.
Could it be Philip?
Her heart soared, even though she knew the chance was slim.
“Right on time,” Lord Ramsbury said with a grin as he pushed away from the chair.
With her back to the dining room door, she could only listen to the sound of his footsteps echoing in the hallway beyond. She imagined him crossing the entrance hall and distantly heard the creak of the front door.
Please, let it be Philip… Please… Please…
Muffled voices drifted toward her ears. One was Lord Ramsbury’s; the other wasnotPhilip’s.
Her heart sank into the very pit of her stomach. She sagged in her chair, her chin dropping to her chest. The bindings she had been fighting against went slack.
It was all over. She would be married to Lord Ramsbury against her will, and no matter how she felt about Philip or how he might feel about her, there was nothing either of them would be able to do to reverse it.
As the footsteps returned, growing louder, she twisted her head back to be sure of her fate.
Lord Ramsbury smirked at her while a priest stood at his side.
“Forgive the unusual situation,” he said.
The priest shook his head. “I have seen stranger. She is not the first reluctant bride I have encountered, but all of those marriages turned out rather well in the end.”