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Blackguard.

The moment he was out of sight, Rosilee let out a breath.

“That man is a menace,” Evangeline muttered.

“On that we are agreed.” She had talked boldly for a lady who had no intention of becoming a beggar on the street. But Baston was right about one thing: she had few options. However, Rosilee refused to let that swine win. “I must find another man to marry. A more suitable one.”

“Yes,” Evangeline agreed. “Butthisman has been spreading rumors about you in town. It won’t be easy.”

Yes, the rumors. Though they had no proof that it was indeed him spreading them. But this proposal of his made it all clear. Who else would spread rumors that she had been seen kissing a mysterious man? Who else had anything to gain from tainting her reputation? Who else would act so underhanded?

Rosilee turned to her friend. “You said you had a way to help me, but it was only to be used as a last recourse. Is this the moment where I ask you about this way?”

Evangeline nodded, then sighed. “I see no other options, but it is still a bit...”

Rosilee squared her shoulders in hard determination. She would do what she must to protect her family and their home. She would not be cowed by fear or by the likes of Baston. “Then enlighten me, Evangeline Green, for I shall burn this estate to the ground before I hand it over.”

“Mrs. Bessie Dove-Lyon.” Evangeline’s face turned grim. “Go to London and find Mrs. Bessie Dove-Lyon. She is your last hope.”

Blake Faithorne, Dukeof Crane, Marquess of Falconridge, and Earl of Eastbrook, sat behind his massive oak desk, his fingers steepled as he stared blankly at the stack of correspondence before him. His thoughts were miles away, tangled in a nightmare of his father reaching out from the grave and strangling him. Not even the flames in the fireplace could warm his bones. The cold seeped ever deeper, matching the chill of the morning light filtering through the windows.

A throat cleared. “I have the report.”

Blake looked up at Giles Bishop, his butler, man of affairs, and all-round right-hand man, and scowled. “I didn’t ask for any report.”

“And yet, like always, you shall listen attentively anyway.”

Blake scowled, resenting the man’s flat but knowing tone. “Your arrogance is annoying.”

An even more arrogant eyebrow rose. “Not as annoying as you may find the two bits of news I’m here to share.”

Blake pushed the ledger he’dnotbeen pouring over aside, giving Bishop his undivided attention. “And what are these two bits of news that will drive me to the brink of death?”

“First, your brothers took over the Worthings’ clandestine shipping routes.”

Blake sent the man a hardened look. “I’m annoyed to death that you believe that will annoy me to death. I don’t care what myhalf-brothers do.”

“But you are annoyed, are you not?” Bishop grinned, then gave an exaggerated sigh. “The death part may come with the second piece of news I’m about to share.”

Blake pulled his lip up in a sneer, reclining back in his chair and staring at the man who had been his companion over the last ten years. They were the same age, both eight-and-twenty, but there were times that he thought the man had never reached puberty. “I should have left you in the gutter to perish.”

“Now that’s not very nice,” Bishop said. “And it was a ditch, not a gutter.”

“Fine, a ditch. My life would still be much quieter and more undisturbed had I not rescued you from your pitiful fate.”

“You should learn to speak more graciously, Your Grace. If anyone heard you, they’d think you were the worst sort of tyrant.”

“Only you are here.”

“That’s not true—we have some maids.”

“They don’t live here. Only you are mad enough to stay.”

“That’strue.” Bishop grinned, crossing his arms and tapping his chin thoughtfully. The finger stopped. “However, you shouldn’t call people who live here mad. Think of your future wife.”

Blake’s left eye ticked at the man’s statement. “Have I not told you a hundred times? I’m never getting married.”

“Not even to save a damsel in distress?”