“I see.” She rose and paced to the window, her reflection wavering in the darkened glass. “So it’s debtor’s prison. We’ll send Mama and the girls to Aunt Prudence. She’ll object, naturally, but family is family. And I suppose I could seek a position as a governess, though without references it will be—”
“There is another option.”
Something in his tone made her turn. He saw the moment she understood—women always did grasp such things quicker than men gave them credit for. Her hand flew to the simple gold chain at her throat—her grandmother’s—one of the few family jewels he had not sold.
“No.”
“Celine—”
“No.” This time, the word rang with the quiet fury that had driven off three perfectly eligible suitors. “Whatever wretched bargain you’ve struck, whatever you’ve promised, the answer isno.”
“You haven’t heard the terms.”
“I don’t need to.” She gave a brittle, humourless laugh. “Let me guess: some ambitious merchant wants a lady-wife to improve his standing? Or one of your creditors hopes to add me to his collection of unpaid debts? Who is it, Papa? Who purchased your marker this time?”
“The Duke of Rothwest.”
The name fell between them like a blade. Celine’s already pale face blanched to parchment.
“The Beast,” she whispered.
“Don’t call him that,” Broker said automatically, though the protest was hollow even to his own ears.
“Everyone calls him that. They say he killed a man in a duel over a trifling slight. They say he’s not smiled once since inheriting. They say—” She pressed trembling fingers to her lips. “Good grief, Papa, what have you done?”
“I’ve saved us all from ruin,” he insisted, attempting authority and achieving only desperation. “Marriage to a duke, Celine. Think of it—you’d be a countess. Your sisters would have prospects again. Your mother could hold her head up in society.”
“And I would be married to a monster.”
“You don’t know that he’s—”
“Don’t I?” She turned on him, and for a moment, he saw not his daughter but his mother—magnificent in her righteous fury. “Have you ever seen him dance? No, because he does not. Have you ever heard him offer a compliment? Engage in polite conversation? Show even the faintest evidence of possessing human feeling?”
“He is wealthy—”
“So was Midas, and all his touch produced was gold—not warmth.”
“Celine, please—”
“How long?” Her question cut straight through his plea. “How long before this marriage must take place?”
“A fortnight.”
She laughed again—high, breathless, perilously close to hysteria. “A fortnight. How generous. How very sporting of him.”
She moved toward the door, pausing with her hand on the frame. “I need time to think.”
“We don’t have time. He was very specific—”
“Then he will have to wait until morning for his answer.” She turned, and the look in her eyes made him retreat a step. “I assume even beasts observe conventional calling hours?”
Before he could respond, she was gone, leaving only the whisper of silk on carpet and the faint scent of lavender. Broker sank into the chair she’d abandoned and reached blindly for her discarded book.The Mysteries of Udolpho—a Gothic tale of a young woman trapped in a castle with a tyrant.
How frighteningly appropriate.
Chapter Two
Celine did not go to her room. Instead, she climbed the narrow stairs to the attic—the refuge she had claimed as a child whenever the world grew too heavy to bear. It was smaller than she remembered, cramped and dusty, but the window still looked out over the rooftops of London, and the ancient rocking chair still creaked in precisely the same way.
