She shook her head, releasing her breath in a slow, measured stream. Ethan exchanged a look with her father. Brigham had better to end this meeting soon, or he’d end it for him. Brigham frowned, but dipped his head in acknowledgement.
“You said you thought the man was wounded,” he said to Ethan through a haze of smoke.
“The dog bit him hard enough to draw blood.”
“PoorCagnolino! He is a true hero!”
Ethan stepped aside just in time to avoid a collision with Lady Brigham’s out-flung arm.
Brigham frowned at his wife, sat back, setting down his pipe.
“I’ll ride into Selborne this afternoon and make a few inquiries. Discreetly, of course. I’ll also pay a visit to Dr. Dawson. If the bite was bad enough, the man may have sought medical attention.”
“I’ll ride with you and see your solicitor,” Ethan said. “Have him draw up the necessary papers. I’ll sign after I acquire the license.”
Francesca’s brows creased with confusion.
Brigham grunted. “I ride within the hour. Best to get an early start. You have more than enough to do, what with leaving for Yorkshire tomorrow.”
“Mamma mia!”
Even with her mother’s loud exclamation, Ethan heard Francesca’s startled gasp and knew what she must be thinking—that he was leaving her. He wasn’t so certain she’d like the truth any better.
Brigham pushed himself up from behind his desk and went to stand before his daughter. “I understand felicitations are in order.” The viscount’s voice was cold and hard, and the look of bewilderment and dread Francesca had worn since entering the library only deepened.
“Felicitations?” Her voice shook a little, and Ethan decided now was as good a time as any for her to take her place at his side. After all, she was to become a permanent fixture there. He might be confused about his feelings for her, but he knew this marriage would take her away from Tanglewilde and protect her. The fact that it would also mean she was his, and his alone, was a point he did not want to contemplate too deeply at the moment.
He took her hand, drew her out of the chair, and put his arm around her waist. She tried to wriggle away, looking pointedly at her father, but Ethan didn’t let go.
“I told your parents the good news,cara.” He squeezed her waist to quell her squirming.
She stilled. “What good news?” The look she slid him was wary.
“Why, that you’ve consented to move the wedding date forward. We marry tomorrow.”
“What?” She jumped, hurling herself away from him as if burned by his touch. “You’ve done what?” she screeched.
Her mother, who’d behaved almost identically half an hour earlier, was by her side in an instant. “I know,dolce! I know. It is trulyimpossibile.” She patted her daughter’s shoulder and issued her husband and Ethan scathing glares. “I tried to tell him it could not be done, but yourpadre, who obviously does not care one whit for my wishes and who, apparently, wants to see me suffer, agrees with yourfindanzato.” She turned away from the two men in disgust. “I could not budge either of them.”
Francesca stared at Ethan. He arched a brow, daring her to try and budge him. Her eyes narrowed defiantly. She wouldn’t give in easily, but then, neither would he.
She turned to Lady Brigham and, taking her mother’s hands in hers, said, “Mamma, I’m sorry, but there will not be a wedding.”
“Of course there will be,mia cuore.” Her mother bobbed her head with the conviction of one who is rarely contradicted. “Certamente, it will be difficult to arrange in such a short time —”
Francesca shook her mother’s hands. “No,Mamma. I mean that I will not marry him.” She tossed Ethan an irritated glance over her shoulder. “This betrothal was a ruse, a charade so that Ethan could find my attacker. We never intended to marry. He doesn’t love me, and I will not marry him.”
Ethan crossed his arms over his chest. Her words held a finality that he didn’t care for. She was his now, and shewouldmarry him. Whether she liked it or not.
“Fammi respirare!” Lady Brigham swung around so that she and Francesca were now facing Ethan and Brigham. “I do not believe it!”
Francesca stepped back from her mother. “It’s true,Mamma. The betrothal was a sham. I don’t love him.” She studied the floor, avoiding Ethan’s hard gaze as she spoke. “And I won’t marry him.”
“The devil you won’t,” Ethan said through clenched teeth.
She put her hands on her hips. “The devil Iwill!”
It took all of his willpower not to take two steps, grab her, and shake her. She was lying. She loved him. He knew it, and so did she. She loved him, and she would marry him. Whether she liked it or not.
