“Because you’ll languish in the country, bored out of your mind.”
“It will be better for me at Tanglewilde,” she said quietly.
“Why?”
“Because I won’t be reminded of him there. In London, everywhere I look I see him. I can hardly stand it here.”
John put an arm around her. “Do you want me to come with you?”
Lucia smiled at him, her wonderful, overprotective brother. “Thank you, but no. I’m sure you’re needed in Town. I hear you had a meeting with Wentworth again yesterday. I hope you’re not planning any more foreign travel?”
“Not right away. There may be work for me here.”
“I wish there was something I could do.” Lucia sighed. She felt so useless.
“There is,” John said. “Stay out of trouble.”
Lucia rolled her eyes. He sounded remarkably like Alex.
John offered to stay for her meeting with Dandridge, but she told her brother to go. She wanted to face this alone.
When she entered the drawing room, Reginald was sitting in a high-backed chair, directly in front of the door. He rose as she entered and bowed slightly, his eyes following Paolo as the butler closed the door behind her.
“Reginald, I didn’t expect to see you.”
He smiled thinly. “I find that hard to believe as, from what I have heard, you are making all possible haste to flee to the country.”
Lucia scowled. He was accusing her of a cowardly retreat, and could she really argue?
“We have a few matters to discuss. Sit down.” He indicated the couch next to him with his hand.
“Thank you. I prefer to stand.”
Reginald frowned, and Lucia remembered how uncomfortable her height made him. She was glad of at least one advantage today. “There’s nothing to discuss,” she said. “I’m sorry, but I can’t marry you.”
Reginald stood and began to move, circling her as he might a political opponent. His silence and his stalking annoyed her, but she refused to show it, keeping her eyes focused on a painting in front of her.
“And might you elaborate on how you came to this realization?” Reginald asked from behind her. His voice was sharp and resentful.
“Suffice it to say that my affections are not what I had thought.” She tensed as he pressed near to her, and she had to resist turning to face him.
“And when did this—this epiphany occur?” He was standing directly behind her now, his breath tickling her neck.
She cringed. “I believe I have always known, but I resolved to end the engagement while at Winterbourne Hall with Francesca.” Lucia stepped forward in an attempt to put some distance between them, then turned warily to face him.
“Could it be that your affections have been swayed by another?”
For a moment she wondered if he knew about Alex. She studied his face and decided he was reaching. “No,” she finally answered. “I’m sorry, Reginald, but I don’t love you. Pray excuse me.” Lucia moved to go, but Reginald’s arm snaked out, catching her wrist in a punishing grip.
“You little bitch!” he hissed, pulling her against him. “Don’t you dare walk away from me!” He shoved her toward the fireplace, and Lucia stumbled, knocking a vase to the floor.
“Reginald, you’re hurting me. Stop!”
He pushed her hard against the mantel. “I want to know his name,” he said through clenched teeth.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about! Let go of me.”
Reginald’s grip on her arm tightened. “I want to know the name of your lover, whore.” He shook her roughly. “Whose bed have you been sharing? Do you think I believe you were at Winterbourne Hall? No one in Yorkshire reports having seen you.”
