“You won’t tell me her name? Is her family so lowly you are embarrassed to admit it? You didn’t marry one of the tenant girls, did you? I’ve heard how much time you are spending with them.”
I stepped forward. I didn’t understand half of what was going on, but I was part of this family, even if only temporarily. If Julia could speak boldly to this man, so could I. “My name is Anna Atwood. My father was a gentleman, and our family estate was a fine one. I know David thanks to the mutual acquaintance of Mr. and Mrs. Preston.”
Lord Murphy raised an eyebrow at me. “I assume, by your word choice, your father is dead.”
I lifted my chin, unwilling to let him know he’d hit a painful mark. “Yes, but that makes him no less a gentleman.”
He tipped his head causally to the side as if he might argue that point, but the sound of David’s chair scraping the floor stopped him.
David strode toward me. “I’ll have your dinner sent up to my room, Anna. You need to rest.”
Lord Murphy’s sharp eyes turned toward me—this time, perhaps, noticing my pallor—then back to David. “Did she fall pregnant?” That low laugh left his mouth again, sickening and blackhearted. “No wonder you needed a special license from the archbishop. Are you even certain the child is yours?”
I didn’t even see David move. He was standing in front of me one moment and was halfway to his father before I had a chance to react. As fast as his legs moved, his fist was faster, flying through the air and landing with resounding force on his father’s jaw.
Lord Murphy stumbled back, and one foot caught on the rug, toppling him into a sitting position on the floor. For seconds afterward, the only movement in the room was the rise and fall of David’s chest from his heavy breathing.
Then Lord Murphy interrupted the silence with cold laughter. “Do you know what the punishment is for striking a member of the House of Lords?”
“Report me,” David said, turning and striding back toward me. His face was cold, so unlike the David I knew. Gone was his gentleness and kindness, replaced by a hardness that made him nearly unrecognizable.
“Wait.” Lord Murphy’s voice had changed, transforming into a plea.
David stiffened but then turned.
Lord Murphy took a large cigar out of the breast pocket of his jacket. “Before you go, could you fetch me a candle? I’d like to smoke.”
Julia hissed, Garrett swore under his breath, and David grabbed my arm and propelled me out of the room. We marched down the corridor at a speed nigh unto running. When we reached the stairs, he didn’t slow but took them two at a time. My breath started coming in gasps. My foot slid off the edge of one step, and I would have fallen if he hadn’t held my arm.
He whipped his head around, his face dark and thunderous, but when he caught sight of me struggling to right myself, the hard ridges and planes of his face melted away, shifting into the softness I was used to. But this time, the softness was clouded with regret. “Anna,”he said, his voice soft enough to crumble into dust around us, “I’m so sorry.”
“No, I’m well. Of course I’m well.”
“No, you aren’t. You were confined to your bed just yesterday, and I’m dragging you up the stairs.”
“I’ve caught my breath. We can continue.”
But he shook his head, swept me up in his arms, and marched us up the stairs. Instead of turning into my room at the end of the corridor, he turned the handle on his own door and kicked it open. Without a word, he placed me gently on his bed, then returned to the door and locked it. “You can’t stay in your room as long as he is in the house, and you won’t be left alone.” He pulled a bell for service. “I’ll have Maren and Julia stay with your mother until we have your things packed.”
“Packed?” I asked.
“Yes. Garrett’s friend in Lincolnshire said the cottage will be available whenever you need it.”
He was sending me away.
This evening.
“Will you be coming with us?”
I knew the answer before he gave it. “No, Anna. We always knew this arrangement would be temporary. It has accomplished everything it needed to do. We’ve found a safe place for you, and you also have your money. There is no need for the farce to continue.”
The farce.Our engagement, our marriage, and everything that had happened between us over the past weeks reduced to one very malignant but accurate word.
David winced, and I knew he could see the hurt that word had caused, but he didn’t apologize. Instead, he paced at the foot of the bed until a knock sounded at the door.
He carefully unlocked it and cracked the door open. Then he slammed it shut again, turning the key and swearing under hisbreath. “My father has replaced the servants.” He ran a hand down his face.
“He’s what?” Why would the man replace the servants?
