Huntly narrowed his eyes on Brayton. Deerhurst had to hand it to the man—he had balls as big as the ones rolling on bowling greens. Truly impressive. Truly inspiring.
“Deerhurst,” Huntly said when Brayton dragged Howard away. “You are courting my daughter?”
Deerhurst winced. “We had an understanding.”
“Had?” Huntly queried. “Ah, Avondale’s list.”
“You know?” Phaedra asked.
“Since you and your friends exposed the wagers in such a flamboyant way, the dowager countess has admitted to drafting the list for her son.”
This surprised the hell out of Deerhurst. Huntly had known but hadn’t confronted him. But then, why would he? The Sharp family were peculiar to be sure. All Deerhurst had to do was look at Brayton’s presence. But he didn’t expect Huntly’s next question. That knocked the air from his lungs.
“Are you prepared to marry my daughter?”
God, yes.
“Papa!”
“You are ruined, Phaedra. Howard might say nothing tonight, but we cannot guarantee he won’t say something tomorrow.”
“Robert,” Portia began but was cut off with a hot stare.
“Not a word from you, Portia. Consorting with Brayton? Have you learned nothing of your past marriage?”
“That is not the same,” Lady Portia defended. “Neither will any good come from forcing Phaedra to wed.”
Christ, Deerhurst didn’t want to go through this again. How many times would he have to be rejected in one night? But considering what had happened with Howard, he had no choice. He’d wanted to keep this between him and Phaedra, but that no longer seemed possible.
“I have no problem wedding your daughter, Huntly, if she will have me, but she has made her position clear.”
“I won’t marry,” Phaedra said. “Not because of that lout, Lord Neville.”
Deerhurst’s breathing stopped.
“I beg your pardon?” Huntly thundered. “Are you in any position to argue?”
“You said it yourself, Papa. I am stronger than gossip columns. If Lord Neville breaks his word, I will face whatever comes.”
“With Howard yes,” Huntly said. “But what about Deerhurst? Or should I ask how he knew where to find your bedchamber? How did he enter the house? When did he enter the house? How perfectly timely that he intercepted Howard in your bedchamber.”
Confound it.
Deerhurst had hoped Huntly wouldn’t notice or question any of that.
“Papa, I—”
Deerhurst couldn’t listen to this anymore. “Her decision has been made, Huntly.”
Huntly’s lived gaze whipped to him. “Have both you and my daughter lost your minds? This is not up for debate.”
“In that, you are correct. It’s not up for debate,” Deerhurst held his stance. Phaedra didn’t want to marry him, and he wasn’t going to force her. He might be a bastard, a beast, selfish to the bone. But he wouldn’t stoop so low as that.
There had to be a line. A line he couldn’t cross.
Unless she carried his child, in which case, she’d have no choice but to seek the shelter of his title. None of them would have a choice then. On one hand, he hoped she was with child. A part of him wanted her any way he could get her. On the other hand, he wanted her to marry him of her own choosing—because she loved him too.
He felt her gaze burn into him, but he refused to look at her. He would stumble, then, and agree to Huntly’s every demand. He’d bared his heart to her, and she’d spurned him. He’d protected her and she’d spurned him. He’d offered her his future and she’d spurned him.
