Page 15 of Jillian’s Wild Heart (Ladies of Munro #4)
He thumped his fist on the table so hard that even his father jumped a little. “There is nothing wrong with hardworking folk who were not born into wealth! If you were half as decent as the phrase ‘upper class’ would suggest, you still wouldn’t hold a candle to Miss Kinsey!”
“Now see here…” Lord Bradford began, but Lewis cut him off.
“No, Father, you see. Miss Kinsey has come here as our guest. She has done nothing offensive since her arrival other than dare to be my betrothed and the daughter of a groundskeeper. Yet Mother has no qualms insulting her. It is disgraceful!”
Lewis was shaking now, anger roiling from him in waves. Jillian could only watch as he released thirty years of frustration in one fell swoop.
He pointed a furious finger at his father and mother in turn.
“If you had spent but a moment trying to get to know her, you would have discovered what a blessed addition she is to our family. I now withdraw that offer. You don’t deserve her.
We will marry in Ermenbrough, where there is love for the both of us.
And I will attach myself to her family, where I am welcomed and appreciated. ”
Lewis threw a quick glance at his sister. “I’m sorry, Pen. I don’t mean you. You are the best of sisters.” The corners of his mouth curled downward. “As for the rest of you…We will not darken your doorway again.”
Lewis stood up so quickly that his chair clattered to the floor.
At this precise moment, the butler returned.
Giles observed the overturned chair, saw the thunder upon his master’s face, and decided to step out of harm’s way.
He took position beside Lord Bradford’s seat, seeming to wait for an opportunity to speak to him when some measure of calm had been restored.
“Come, Jilly,” Lewis said, reaching out his arm and gesturing with his hand. “I have let you down. I thought my parents could see reason, but I was gravely mistaken. They have not been kind to you. I should never have let you endure such mistreatment. But it is done now. Here is the end of it.”
Jilly sat, mute with shock. She was grateful for Lewis’s protective nature, but this was not what she wanted—a family divided because of her.
“Lewis, I… Shouldn’t we… Let’s just catch our breath for a second,” she finally managed to say. “I do not want you to lose your family over some…”
“Of course you don’t,” Lord Bradford said sharply. “You want to keep your claws firmly on the Bradford money. But if he marries you, he shall be cut off. There you have it. Do you still want him so badly now?”
“I never wanted him for his money!” Jilly cried in horror. “I love Lewis. Which is why I want your family to remain intact. Surely, you would not force him to choose between us? That will only lead to more bitterness and resentment. Do you really hate me more than you love your son?”
The poor butler, who had, as all good servants do, tried to remain invisible throughout the confrontation, could wait no longer and was forced to bend down to his master’s ear and whisper an urgent message.
“What?” barked the baron. “The police, you say? What the devil do they want?”
A few more muttered sentences followed.
“No, I will not come to the door to speak to them. I have sat down for dinner and do not wish to disturb this bothersome leg. Go fetch them and show them in here. We have already been interrupted. Perhaps, while they are here, they can arrest my son for criminal insanity!”
Giles nodded and disappeared at once, while Jillian and the Bradfords remained frozen in suspended uproar.
Less than a minute passed in waiting, but the tension only deepened in the silence.
Lewis used the opportunity to walk around the table to stand by Jilly, grasping her hand firmly.
Jilly could not discern whether he was offering support or needing it, or both.
She returned the firmness of his grip in unspoken agreement that they were in this together.
And then the butler ushered the two policemen into the room.
The dynamic in the room was clearly not what they had expected. Perhaps they had assumed some surprise, even curiosity at their presence. But this space was awash with agitation. The constables looked at each other, uncertainty in their stance.
“Well, what is it?” demanded Lord Bradford. “I expect you have an excellent reason to disturb our dinner. Speak and be done with it, man! Don’t dilly-dally. The butter sauce is congealing upon my plate.”
One of the constables seemed to have the misfortune of being assigned the speaking role. He now pulled his cap from his head and scrunched it up in his hands, lowering his eyes to the floor.
“Your lordship,” he began with great trepidation, “we are sorry to tell you, but there has been an incident involving your son.”
“Do you mean Philip?” Lady Bradford asked, her voice tight, her body sprung with apprehension.
The constable turned briefly to his companion, who nodded. “Yes, milady, I believe that is the name we were given.”
“What has happened?” cried Miss Bradford. “Is Philip all right? Where is he?”
The constable bowed his head, unable to look her in the eye. The grip on his cap grew tighter. “Your ladyship,” he said in a voice solemn and low, “it pains me to say that Mr. Philip Bradford is dead.”