“Honor?” Philip wanted to laugh. “If you possessed a shred of honor, you would release Lady Anna from this arrangement at once. Why would you force a woman who shrinks from you into a marriage that will only make her miserable? What did her father promise you?”
Ashwicken snickered. “Who are you to question me? What stake do you have in all of this? I am seeking to wed Lady Anna because she is worthy of marriage. Is that so difficult to believe? Do you truly think so little of her that she must be reduced to a bargaining chip in your eyes?”
“Quite the opposite. I believe that she is worthy of marriage and more,” Philip declared with more passion than he had intended. “It is you of whom I think little. What was offered to you? Money? Of course, it was money. Nothing drives a man so quickly to debase himself as money. And you are base, indeed.”
“Yes… You are just as they said you were. The apple never falls far from the tree, does it? A manipulative rake, just like your father. I would be more concerned with the state of my own honor if I were you. Once the ton hears of this… The way you have tricked Lady Anna, lured her outside, poisoned her… This cannot be the first of your secret assignations.”
Ashwicken’s carefully crafted veneer cracked as his face twisted into a snarl. Philip tried his best to remain calm in the face of his goading.
“If she does not harken to me,” Ashwicken continued, “she will harken to her father. He will have plenty to say once he sees this. I suggest you leave, Your Grace. You will not want to witness what comes next, not if you have any consideration for your already fragile reputation.”
He turned on his heel and stormed back into the ballroom, the tails of his jacket flapping in the breeze.
Philip heard Anna’s breath hitch. She staggered back against the balustrade, shaking her head frantically.
“What comes next?” she echoed, squeezing her eyes shut. “What does he mean by that?”
“Does it matter?” Philip seized her gingerly by the shoulders, careful not to scare her after Ashwicken’s earlier assault. He looked down at her arm, checking for a bruise. “Did he hurt you?”
“No.” She looked up at him. “He just surprised me, and then…” She paused, balling her fists. “The things he said about you… That wasn’t right. You must leave. If I cannot be saved from this betrothal, you at least must walk free. My father is a wicked man. If we are seen together… I fear what will happen.”
“Leave and abandon you? It is my fault that Ashwicken is on the path of war. Had I not come out here to speak with you?—”
“Nothing would have changed.” She met his gaze seriously. “You were right—my plan was ridiculous. Ashwicken will not be deterred from marrying me for anything in the world. Please, Your Grace, just leave. I could not bear to see you suffer because of me.”
For a moment, Philip considered doing what she wanted.
Anna was right; she was doomed. He had known it from the moment she had announced her engagement at Alicia’s soirée. Bristol and Ashwicken would never be convinced that she deserved to choose her own path in life.
Philip had already put himself in the line of fire, and with the shadow of his father’s misdeeds hanging over his head, it wouldn’t take much for the ton to turn against him. And if they turned against him, they would turn against Elinor too.
He opened his mouth to say something—maybe a goodbye, that he was sorry. But his hand had unknowingly traveled down Anna’s arm, settling just above her elbow. He stroked the soft skin there with his thumb while he considered his options, feeling his pulse quicken.
There was an inexplicable pull between him and Anna. It grew stronger every time they met. He could not think clearly when she was around, and his weakness had only made things worse for her. Even if Ashwicken changed his mind before their wedding and let her go free, her father would just find another monster for her to marry. She would never know the life she deserved.
Philip’s hand lingered on her arm as a rush of movement sounded behind them.
The Earl of Bristol marched out of the ballroom ahead of Ashwicken. Bristol looked nothing like his daughter—stout and haughty, his face twisted in rage. His exit drew the attention of nearby guests, and they gathered at the doors to see what had happened. The music inside continued to play.
“What is the meaning of this?” the earl shouted. “I demand an explanation. Why are you alone with my daughter? What have you said to her?”
Something wasn’t right about the situation. Philip could tell from the way Ashwicken focused on Bristol with giddy anticipation.
The earl was rumored to be a cruel and calculating man. He would not have caused a scene unless that had been his intention. He had allowed Anna to be compromised on purpose.
Philip scanned the crowd, growing more disappointed and embittered with every head he counted. George stood in the sea of scandalized aristocrats, looking like he was about to be sick.
“There has been a misunderstanding,” Philip called, releasing Anna’s arm. “I have done nothing to compromise Lady Anna. What you are witnessing is a discussion between friends, nothing more.”
“No one here had accused you of compromising her,” Ashwicken said, looking around in shock. “That you would suggest such a thing only reveals your foul designs on her. Did you feel the need to act quickly on your impulses, at the risk of exposing yourself, because you knew that Lady Anna and I planned to announce our betrothal tonight? That must be it. His savage urges cannot be controlled.”
A wave of gasps rippled through the crowd. Philip held in a sigh, wondering how it was possible for these aristocrats—the most important figures of England, lawmakers among them—to believe such a diatribe.
He looked at Anna, wishing he could read her mind.
Her face was pale, but her expression was resolute. The announcement could not be undone. They both knew it. She had been backed into a corner.
The rest was obvious: Ashwicken would present himself as Anna’s savior, willing to marry her no matter what she had done and purge her of Philip’s evil influence. Their marriage would be expedited. The ton would laud the viscount as a hero. Bristol would get what he wanted. Anna would be beyond saving. And Philip would live on in infamy just like his father.
