As if sensing he was getting ready to speak, Harrell said quickly, “A job well done again, Campion—thank you very much—you are dismissed—”
“I’d like your daughter’s hand in marriage.”
Ian’s words seemed to suck the air out of the room. The duchess arched her brows in surprise; Lyssa tensed. Harrell pretended he hadn’t heard him. He turned to his wife. “Are you ready, Frances? Lyssa? We must go.”
“No, Papa,” Lyssa said, coming to where Ian stood by the door. “I’m not going. Not until you answer Mr. Campion, and I’ll warn you now, there is only one answer I want.”
Now her father could not pretend. He met Ian’s eye. “I’d rather see her in hell than married to the likes of you.”
Lyssa staggered as if he’d struck her. The duchess was as surprised. She took a step forward, but Harrell warned her back with an imperial wave. “I know what you are, Campion. You have nothing to give my daughter.”
“I don’t want anything, Father, save your blessing!”
“You’ll not have it,” was his even reply. “Now, enough of this nonsense, let us leave.”
“I’m not going with you,” Lyssa said clearly and firmly—and Ian could have kissed her.
Harrell frowned. “Did I not offer you enough money?” he suggested rhetorically. “Very well, I’ll double what I was paying you.”
“I don’t want money,” Ian said quietly.
“Oh, yes, you do,” Harrell answered. “You think you’ve caught the prize. Well, you haven’t…and let me advise you to leave now.”
“No.” Ian didn’t want to make Harrell angry and, yet, he could not live without Lyssa. “I didn’t even take the payment your man wanted to give me earlier. It’s not about the money, Mr. Harrell. I love her.”
There was a moment of silence and then Harrell started laughing as if a great jest had been told.
“Dunmore…” his wife pleaded.
He shook his head. “I could either laugh or applaud. They say the Irish are the best actors. I never believed it until now.” He looked at his daughter. “I understand, Lyssa. He’s played you well, but enough. Get your money from Parker, Campion, and leave my daughter alone.” There was a father’s steel behind his voice.
“Father, it isn’t him. It’s me, too,” Lyssa pressed. “He saved my life.”
“I understand, and you feel grateful,” her father agreed. “But marriage is not the way to show your appreciation. He’s using you, Lyssa. He wants your money.”
“He hasn’t taken any money!” she countered with exasperation.
“Of course not. He wants your inheritance, or are you willing to give that up, too?”
Here was the threat of disinheritance.
Lyssa took a moment, but then said calmly, “I do want my inheritance. And I want your blessing. But Iwillmarry this man with or without your permission.”
“This man is a scoundrel,” her father countered. “A bounder. A bloody Irishman!”
“This man could be the father of the babe I might already be carrying.”
Lyssa had struck a deadly blow. Harrell went pale, but then, his features hardened and Ian pulled Lyssa close to his protection. Mrs. Harrell moved forward to stand between the two parties, her expression uncertain and afraid.
“So you did it,” Harrell said quietly to Ian. “The thought crossed my mind that you might. After all, you are an ambitious man.”
“I’m also an honorable one,” Ian said and, ignoring Harrell’s snort of disbelief, said, “Claiming your daughter was not my intention.”
“It wasn’t?” Harrell mocked. “You truly expect me to believe you?”
Lyssa made an impatient sound. “Oh, Father, don’t pretend to be so noble. You were willing to sell me for a title.”
“I was using your dowry to buy you security!” Harrell lashed out. “I wanted you safe and with all the trappings of respect I could give you and your children. And what do you do? You bed a bloody nobody. He has nothing, Lyssa. There are those who would even spit on his name.”
