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There was no ignoring the threat in her voice.

Stephen released Miss Haversham, who darted back a few steps as if she were afraid he might bite her.

Well, perhaps I will. Not hard, of course. But a little nibble never hurt anyone.

“I beg your pardon, Miss Haversham,” he said smoothly. “I did not intend to scare you. I thought you had seen me.”

“I was notscared,”she shot back, as he had known she would. “I didn’t expect to see you again, that’s all.” She paused, and an almost comical expression came over her face. “Wait. You aren’t coming in for tea too, are you?”

He was tempted to sayyesif only to see her reaction, but perhaps enough really was enough. Anna might slam his head against a door, or spill boiling water on his crotch, or something similar if he pushed too far.

“No, I am not,” he responded gracefully. “I only wanted to walk Theodore home. Good day to you all.”

He began to walk past, but as he passed Miss Haversham, he bent low enough so that her reddish-gold curls tickled the tip of his nose.

“Let me know when you are ready to discuss my rules, Miss Haversham. I shall be waiting with the utmost eagerness.”

CHAPTER 7

“Iought to take the wretched man to court,” Horatio snarled, limping up and down the length of the dining room. “How dare he? Howdarehe? I ought to sue him for slander. Perhaps the Marquess will.”

“One can only sue for slander if the accusations are untrue, Papa,” Beatrice remarked.

Her father shot her an aggravated look, and she fell silent. It seemed that her father—likely all of her family, in fact—had somehow surmised that she had been involved in the Marquess’s downfall.

However, nobody could work outhow. But there would be talk about it, no doubt. A lady’s reputation was a fragile thing, like a figurine made of glass. Even if it did not take a tumble and shatter into a million pieces, a knock or a crack could slough off an arm or a head, and the figurine would be ruined anyway.

Horatio shot her a glare. “My question is, Beatrice, how didthat mancome to meddle in our business? Why should he care who you marry and who the Marquess marries?”

“Perhaps he thought it was his duty,” Beatrice suggested.

That was a weak suggestion and not one that could ever be applied to the Duke. Nobody deigned to respond.

“Let us look at it this way, Father,” John piped up a little worriedly.

Beatrice’s younger brother had not dared to speak much since they had returned from the church, aside from warning Beatrice as she came inside that their parents were in a bad mood and that she ought to have stayed at Anna’s home a little longer. It had been, of course, too late for warnings.

“The Duke saved Beatrice from quite a bad match. It’s generally considered that what he said about the Marquesswastrue, and so we should be glad that Beatrice did not marry him, after all.”

John paused, glancing around, no doubt taking in Helena’s blank face and Horatio’s livid one.

“We… We areglad, aren’t we?” he ventured, blinking uncertainly.

Beatrice felt a stab of pity for him.

John was barely fourteen and quiet for his age. He was thin, gawky, in the midst of a growth spurt that left him stretched out like a piece of taffy, and was afflicted with the same red hair and spectacles as his sister. He was not talkative, even before Jane’s death, and lately, he had retreated into himself even more.

With Horatio wrapped up in their disastrous finances, and Helena paralyzed under the weight of her own grief, Beatrice often felt that nobody was able to think or care for John properly, except for herself.

And so, she reached out and took his hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Of course, we are all glad that I did not marry the Marquess,” she lied smoothly. “Papa is only worried about the money issue, that’s all. I have hardly any dowry, but the Marquess was willing to take me in spite of it,andhe was going to invest heavily in Papa’s businesses. It would have been a good thing for us all, and would have paid for youreducation.”

She wished she had not said that last part.

John flinched at the mention of his education, glancing nervously at his father. “Does… does that mean I am not going to university, then, Papa?”

“You’re too young to think of university yet,” Beatrice said before Horatio could think of anything to say. “This will all be forgotten soon enough, don’t you worry.”