Harrell waved his hands in the air in exasperation. “Will someone tell me what the devil is happening here? And who are you,” he demanded of Lady Grossett, “to insult my wife?”
“I would doanythingto save my son from the likes of you,” Lady Grossett returned with ringing tones. “I never approved of this match and have done everything I must to see it broken!”
Her son appeared ready to weep. “Mother, you are ruining us all.” He looked to Harrell. “You must ignore her. She’s not been well lately. For quite some time actually—”
“Don’t humble yourself to him,” his mother said disdainfully. “You are Grossett!”
Her son’s answer was a frustrated groan. He pleaded now, “Don’t send for the magistrate. I’ll have her taken away, far from London. She’ll not bother Lyssa ever during our marriage.”
“You’d still marry her?” his mother demanded even while Harrell frowned.
“I will not let you have my daughter.”
Harrell’s words were the ones Ian wanted to hear. But Grossett fought back. “Please, I care deeply for Lyssa.”
“You care for her money,” Harrell said, “and that would have been acceptable, my lord, since I covet your title. But even wemerchantsdraw a line at murder.”
The lines of Grossett’s face hardened. “Oh, no, you will not take her from me!”
“Robert—!” his mother started, but he cut her off.
“Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up! I’m the head of this family.Imake the decisions.” He ran a distracted hand through his thinning hair before grasping at a new argument. “Who else do you think will marry your daughter now, Harrell?” he said. “She’s been running around Scotland with some Irish bounty hunter completely unchaperoned. Look at her.”
Every eye in the room turned to Lyssa.
“She’s been had,” Grossett accused. “Had by the worst sort who could touch her.”
Ian stepped forward, doubled his fist and wiped the smirk off of Grossett’s face with one well-placed punch to the mouth.
The bastard dropped like a rock.
Chapter Nineteen
THEREwasn’t a sound in the room, until Lady Grossett took one look at her son on the floor and began screaming.
The ever-present Parker did not miss a beat. He opened the door, shoved her ladyship out, and slammed the door firmly.
“Thank you, Parker,” Harrell said dryly.
“No problem, sir.”
Grossett groaned. “What about him?” Harrell asked.
“If Mr. Campion would help?” Parker suggested.
“I can,” Ian said. He picked the viscount up by his coat. Parker opened the door, surprising Lady Grossett in mid-scream. Ian unceremoniously dumped her son at her feet. The door was shut again.
“I suppose we should see her home,” Mrs. Harrell said.
“Must we?” her husband asked.
“Yes,” she answered regretfully. “We let them ride with us.”
“Parker—?”
“I’ll have our footman hail a hack, sir.” The secretary left the room.
Lyssa, Harrell, the duchess, and Ian were alone. Ian knew the time had come.
