Page 56 of The Dangerous Lord

“Speculation has it that he’s about to offer for you. Is this true?”

Good Lord, the gossip had been more accurate than she’d expected. And it seemed to have agitated Mr. Lennard. She shouldn’t be surprised that Ian’s relatives might be concerned about Ian marrying a woman so far beneath him in wealth, station, and connections, but it annoyed her all the same.

She lifted her chin haughtily. “You can’t expect me to know what your nephew is ‘about to’ do, sir. I don’t read minds.”

The man regarded her gravely. “That’s a pity, for if you could, you’d know he isn’t the sort of man a respectable young woman should marry.”

She gaped at him. She’d had it all wrong. The man wanted to warn her away from Ian, not protect Ian from her. But why? “He seems perfectly acceptable to me.” Well, if he didn’t keep a mistress and have more secrets than a mummy’s tomb.

“That’s because you don’t know him. My nephew is a scoundrel. He’s led many women to ruin, including the one recently mentioned in the Gazette.”

“You mean your former governess, Miss Greenaway?” Felicity asked, to see his reaction.

That startled him indeed. “You know her identity?”

“Of course.”

Anger shone in his beautiful features before he smothered it with a false smile. “I suppose my nephew said she was my mistress or some such lie.”

How curious that Ian’s uncle would jump to defend himself without knowing what he’d been accused of or even if he’d been accused at all. “Your nephew told me nothing about her. I have my ... own sources.”

“I hope they gave you the entire story without slanting it toward my nephew.”

There it was again—that assumption. She kept silent, raising an eyebrow as if to imply she knew more than she did. The ploy often worked in her investigations, especially when the person she questioned was guilty of something.

And it worked very well with Mr. Lennard. He leaned toward her as if to impart something of great import. “Did your sources also tell you the real reason my nephew took Miss Greenaway under his protection?”

“To irritate you perhaps?”

He looked affronted. “No. To make sure she kept quiet about his real character.”

She was rapidly coming to dislike this man. “Don’t keep me in suspense, Mr. Lennard. I can see you’re eager to inform me of what Miss Greenaway is hiding.”

Apparently her sarcastic tone wasn’t enough to dissuade him from further confidences. “You must understand, I tell you this only because I can’t bear to see my family honor besmirched by my nephew’s activities.”

“Go on.” Two weeks ago, she would have been ready to believe anything he said. But two weeks ago, she hadn’t witnessed Ian’s honorable streak firsthand. She found it difficult to reconcile Ian’s concern for her feelings and reputation the last night at Worthing Manor with this man’s veiled implications.

“I presume you know that my nephew fled England at nineteen,” he said.

She nodded.

“He fled because his father threw him out for what he did to my wife.”

He paused for effect, and she struggled to keep her face expressionless. But it was a good thing he couldn’t see her insides, for they were twisting into knots of foreboding. Perhaps it hadn’t been so wise to encourage his confidences.

At her silence, he continued. “You see, my wife Cynthia was younger than I, and she and Ian were much thrown together.” His tone harshened. “One can never truly know what tempts a young man to folly, but it seems he mistook her kindness to him. One day when he caught her alone, he— Well, he took advantage of her. In a carnal way, you understand.”

The accusation slithered into the air, as sudden, ugly, and impossible to ignore as a viper dropping from a tree. “You don’t mean⁠—”

“Yes, he—” He broke off, his lips drawing into a tight line. “I’m sorry. Though many years have passed, it’s still difficult to speak of it. But for your sake, I must.” Gathering himself up, he said baldly, “My nephew forced himself on my wife.”

With every word, an awful weight pounded Felicity’s chest, like the thousand descents of a printing press onto paper. Could Ian truly have raped his own aunt? At nineteen?

Ian’s secretiveness did lend the man’s words some credibility, and the mere possibility of its being true sickened Felicity. She thought of all the young heirs apparent she’d known, the ones who’d cornered her in bay windows or pressed against her “accidentally.” Such lords were brought up to believe they were invincible, that they were entitled to everything. And their arrogant behavior toward women was nurtured so young that she’d once had to fend off a slobbering fourteen-year-old.

But Ian wasn’t like the lords she’d known, young or old. In many respects, he was honorable, and his behavior toward women circumspect ... well, except for the mysterious Miss Greenaway. She couldn’t believe Ian would violate any woman, especially not a relation. The man had an iron control. Yes, he’d forced one kiss on her, but he’d had a reason and had gone no further. In her other encounters with him, he’d shown more restraint than she had.

Now that the initial shock of Mr. Lennard’s accusation was past, she began to wonder at his impropriety in telling her this. If it was so difficult for him to speak of it, why had he done so to a complete stranger? For the noble reasons he claimed, of wanting to protect her? Or something less noble?