She glared at him, and he stared right back.
“Mamma mia!”
“Arrogant man!” Francesca continued. “If you think you can bully me
into—”
“By God, I’ve had quite enough of this!” Brigham bellowed.
Francesca jumped and clamped her mouth shut.
Ethan locked his gaze on her. She glanced at him, looked away, but Ethan’s stare didn’t falter. She was his, and the sooner she accustomed herself to the idea, the better.
Her father strode behind his desk and poured himself a brandy from the table holding his supply of fortification. When he’d drunk about half of it down, he turned, red-faced and veins bulging, back to his daughter.
“Youwillmarry Winterbourne, Franny, and you’ll do it within the hour if I say so.”
“No, I—”
He pointed one finger at her, glass of brandy and water still wrapped between his other fingers. “Don’t you dare argue with me, Franny. I won’t tolerate it.” He took another swallow of reinforcement. “You say you don’t love him?” Brigham cocked his head toward Ethan. “Perhaps you should have thought of that last night.”
His meaning was unmistakable, and Francesca took a startled step back.
“Mamma mia!” Lady Brigham stumbled, clutching her heart. “Oh, I shall faint!”
“Would you deny last night, Franny?” Brigham asked his daughter.
She whipped her head to look at Ethan, but he only arched a brow. A scarlet flood washed from her neck to her forehead.
“I didn’t think so.” Brigham slammed his glass onto the corner of his desk. “Then I will see you”—he looked at Ethan, then back at his daughter—“bothof you, in the church tomorrow at eight.” He mumbled something about Selborne, turned, yanked open the library door, and strode forward without a backward glance.
The heavy wood slammed with a finality that Ethan didn’t think boded well for any further challenges.
“Impossibile! Horrid man!” Lady Brigham fanned herself rapidly a few times, pacing the floor, then whirled on her daughter. “But he is right. Although I am certain nothing untoward occurred last night.”
Ethan met her gaze unabashedly, but Francesca stared at the carpet, digging her toe into the plush fabric.
“Your absence was noted, and if you do not marry now there will be a scandal.”
She sidled up to the desk, lifting her husband’s discarded glass of brandy. With a gulp, she drank the remainder down. “I willnothave a scandal, Francesca.” She gave her daughter a sober look.
Francesca nodded her head and stared at the floor.
“I willnothave my daughter ruined, cast out by Society. Is that understood?”
“Yes,Mamma,” Francesca whispered.
Ethan, standing near her, barely made out her reply and doubted her mother heard at all.
“If you will not do this for yourself and your own safety, think of your sister and what will become of her if you make us the lateston-dit.”
Lady Brigham set down the empty glass and straightened her shoulders. Ethan had never heard her string together so many words in English at one time. Beyond that, he’d never heard her put together so many sentences that all made sense.
“I will leave you alone for a few moments to sort this out between yourselves. Then I want to see you in your room, Francesca. I cannot even begin to contemplate all that we must do.”
“I’ll be there momentarily.”
“Buono.” Lady Brigham opened the door, pausing to glance back at her daughter. “And Francesca?”
