“Blackmailing me,” she murmured and then opened her eyes. This time, she tugged at his wrist, and he was forced to release her.
“What did you say?”
She backed away so fast that she fell into an armchair nearby. She hardly looked startled by it, more resigned as another tear rolled down her cheek.
“What did you say to her?” Stephen rounded on Lord Chilmond, who looked far too pleased with himself for his own good.
That self-satisfied smirk stretched across his face.
“I simply explained to her the difficult position she is in. If she does not agree to marry me, the scandal sheets will learn tomorrow about what I saw between the two of you last night.” The Viscount waved his finger between the pair of them. “Imagine the scandal then. A duke kissing his dearest friend’s sister in the middle of the night and then not marrying her? Imagine your reputation being torn to pieces, and hers.” He nodded toward Dorothy.
Stephen glanced at her and saw her close her eyes. She didn’t bother raising her hands to dry her tears and just let them continue to fall.
“You bast—” Stephen whirled back around to face Lord Chilmond, his hand curled into a fist.
Never had he wanted to strike a man so much in his life and cause injury. His father had told him once that dukes didn’t fight. They didn’t even bet on boxers who fight in the sporting ring. Dukes stayed far back from injury, with porcelain skin that is never bruised.
Stephen couldn’t care less about such an idea at this moment. He drew his arm back, ready to punch Lord Chilmond in the face.
“Stephen! Don’t!” Dorothy shouted, leaping to her feet.
Stephen froze at her words, but he didn’t turn to look at her. He kept glowering at Lord Chilmond, his fist high in the air, intent on punching the man.
“Quite a temper you have there.” Lord Chilmond chuckled and walked around him as if he were some statue unable to harm him. “So, Dorothy, do we have a deal?”
“She isLadyDorothy to you,” Stephen hissed.
“Not anymore,” Lord Chilmond barked and stopped by the armchair. Dorothy stood in front of it, her hands on her hips, breathing heavily, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Do I have your agreement?” he demanded.
“You will leave his name out of the scandal sheets?” she asked, waving in Stephen’s direction. Her sharp movement made him flinch.
“Wait. What did you say?” Stephen said in a panic, moving toward her. “God’s wounds, do not do this for my sake, Dorothy!”
Dorothy ignored him. “Do you agree to this condition, Lord Chilmond?”
“You have my agreement.” The Viscount nodded slowly. “Now, do I have yours?”
Dorothy didn’t answer right away. Time seemed to have slowed down for Stephen as he waited for her response. His heartbeat echoed in his ears, and his chest erupted with pain.
Do not say it. You cannot marry him!
All at once, he saw that picture that had lingered in his mind so much. He saw the veiled bride walking toward him in the church. He saw himself lifting that veil to reveal Dorothy’s smiling face. He saw himself lifting her hand to his lips and kissing the back of it, and he practically heard the vicar’s words echoing in his ears.
“Wilt thou love her?”
Stephen saw himself stepping toward her.
“I will.”
“I…” Dorothy’s voice brought him back to the present moment.
She cannot marry him. I cannot let this happen!
“I wi—”
“No!” Stephen’s voice boomed across the room, despite how closely they all stood together.
“Temper, Your Grace,” Lord Chilmond turned to face him with a mockingly reproachful tut. “Imagine what the guests would say if they hear you shouting so.”
