With a shake of her head, she came to her senses, tucked the book in the bag and pronounced herself ready just as a soft knock sounded on the door.
Both Lyssa and Ian froze.
“Lyssa, are you asleep yet?” came her stepmother’s voice.
Lyssa could not answer. She’d lost her voice and perhaps because she did not say anything, the door slowly opened.
“Lyssa?” The duchess looked to the bed, and seeing it empty lifted her gaze until she saw Lyssa standing beside Ian. “Lyssa,” she whispered in horror. “What are you doing?”
“I’m leaving.” She touched Ian’s arm. “He’s come for me and I must go. Tell Father I will be fine.”
“I don’t know…?”
“Please, Frances. I won’t be happy unless I’m with him.” This was the first time Lyssa had used her stepmother’s Christian name. She’d asked Lyssa to use it years ago when she and Lyssa’s father had married, but Lyssa had stubbornly refused. Now Lyssa was embarrassed by her childish behavior.
The use of her name worked like a talisman on the duchess. She moved into the room, cradling the weight of her pregnant stomach with one arm. “Have you thought this through?”
“I knew what I wanted before I stepped foot back in London,” Lyssa answered. “He’s everything to me.”
“I’ll take care of her,” Ian promised. “She’ll be safe.” Frances frowned. “Please, we belong together,” he said.
It was his final plea that softened her. “Yes, you do,” she agreed softly. “And I haven’t seen anything. I wasn’t even here.”
She backed away, ready to leave, but the door suddenly flew open, Lyssa’s father stood there.
Lyssa gave a frightened cry, but Ian seemed completely unafraid.
“What the devil are you doing here?” her father said. “You should be on a ship for America!”
“I could never leave without her.”
“We had a bargain.” Her father opened the door so the light from the hallway lanterns flowed into the room.
“No, you gave orders,” Ian corrected. “And I did leave on the tide, but I found I forgot something very important to me and I’ve returned to claim her.”
“I’ll not let you have her.”
Lyssa dared to defy him. “What will you do, Father, have him horsewhipped?”
Her soft words gave her father a start. He stared at her as if truly seeing her for the first time and realizing she was all grown up. “Where did you hear about that?”
“Ramsey Davidson bragged about it, Father. He laughed as he told the story, but I know that one incident was enough to drive you to best them.”
“It was,” he agreed. “I made something of myself and for your mother and what are they?”
“Nothing,” Lyssa said quietly.
“You’re right, lass,” and for the first time in a long while, she heard the hint of a proud brogue in his voice.
But then, his expression changed. His eyes narrowed. “Don’t compare us, Lyssa. I’m nothing like this Irish upstart.” Before she realized what could happen, he charged Ian, his fists doubled. His actions were so out of character, both Lyssa and her stepmother were caught off guard.
To his credit, Ian moved back. He could have settled the matter with one blow. She’d witnessed him doing it more thanonce. Instead, he allowed Lyssa and Frances the time to put themselves between the two men.
“Dunmore, stop this,” Frances ordered sharply and to Lyssa’s surprise, her father listened, perhaps because of the baby she carried, perhaps because of something else.
“You’re taking leave of your senses,” she told him. “It’s done. Lyssa is going and you will not stop her.”
Her father looked to his wife. “But we’ll not see her again.”
