“Daenae listen to him,” Lady Inverhall said as she took Sybil’s arm and dragged her away. “In fact, I know a lot about the authoress of those works. If ye will swear yerself to secrecy, I can tell ye the real story of what inspired those words.”
“You must be joking,” Sybil shrieked, positively giddy.
Though Sybil was not the company Hugo had originally intended for Lady Inverhall, as he had hoped to introduce her to as many eligible gentlemen as possible, he took some comfort in knowing that with Sybil by her side, she was unlikely to cause more mischief.
He strode to the refreshments table and grabbed a glass of lemonade, before stuffing a few grapes in his mouth.
“A trying day, Your Grace?” Lord Ashworth inquired, his smile tempered with just enough sympathy to be palatable.
Hugo exhaled, the weight of the afternoon settling on his shoulders. “You cannot begin to imagine,” he said at last. Then, with a shake of his head, he straightened. “But enough of that. Tell me, what news of the trade routes?”
And just like that, the matter of his unrest was set aside, buried beneath charts and commerce and the comforting hum of duty.
Chapter Six
“This simply cannot continue, Lady Inverhall,” the Duke chided, his voice clipped and firm, as they stepped into the grand foyer.
After the party had ended, Hugo was grateful to return home. The carriage ride back to Arrowfell had been filled with a tense, heavy silence, broken only by the clip-clop of the horses’ hooves on the cobblestones. He hadn’t known what to say to her, but had hoped that by the time they arrived at the townhouse, he would have figured it out.
He found his eyes betraying him, lingering longer than he intended on the swell of her breasts as she arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms.
Her voice, low and teasing, cut through his reverie. “What cannae continue, Yer Grace? Me very existence in this world?”
“Your presentation is what concerns me,” Hugo said, his voice calm but edged with impatience as he rubbed the vein throbbing in his temple.
“Mepresentation?” she echoed.
“Yes. Your wardrobe, for a start. It is quite unsuitable for London Society. I shall be placing an order at the modiste’s tomorrow. You will have a new wardrobe by the end of the week. To find a proper husband, one must look the part. That is where I have erred, expecting otherwise.”
Her eyes flashed with indignation. “A new wardrobe? Are ye truly so shallow, Yer Grace? Do ye think a few yards of fine fabric will change how these fools see me? They are simple, shallow, and I cannae?—”
“It will at least keep them from openly mocking you,” he interrupted sharply. “Do you enjoy being the subject of whispers and ridicule? Being dismissed as some wild backwoods witch?”
“I enjoy bein’meself!” she shot back, her accent thickening with anger. “I will never deny me blood, and I willnae be reshaped to fit yer frivolous London standards. This is who I am. Take it or leave it. Frankly, I couldnae care less.”
“If only it were that simple.” Hugo’s control snapped, his fists clenched at his sides. “I cannot simply ‘leave it.’ You are my responsibility, tied to my name and reputation. If you continue behaving like an untamed hellion, you will drag us both through the mud. I will not—cannot—stand for it.”
His breathing was labored now, his chest heaving with barely contained fury. He saw the shock flicker across her face as she fell silent, and found himself more irritated by her silence than her defiance.
“Do you understand me, My Lady?” he demanded, his voice low and threatening. “I will not allow you to ruin everything I have worked for. You will wear the dresses. You will learn the manners expected of a lady. And youwillfind a husband.”
His gaze bored into her before he spun on his heel and strode away. He left her standing there, not sparing her a backward glance.
Behind the closed door of his study, his frustration boiled over. He reached for his whisky decanter and poured himself a stiff glass of the Scottish whisky he had procured during their recent travels.
He shook his head and took a slow sip.
I cannot escape her. Every part of my life, every reminder… she haunts me.
He couldn’t stand her insolence. He couldn’t stand her silence. And he couldn’t stand how little control he truly had.
He drained his glass and set it down with a sharp thud.
That helps.
Pouring another glass, he settled into his leather chair. He reached for his father’s chess set and began to arrange the pieces, seeking clarity in strategy.
I must be creative,he mused, gripping the queen tightly.The sooner I secure a proper match for Lady Inverhall, the sooner I can sell the estate and move on with my life.
