Page 35 of The Duke’s Hidden Runaway Bride

“And if I refuse?”

“Then I seek redress. The proceedings will entertain London for months.”

His smile remained gentle.

“The choice, my dear, is entirely yours.”

It was no choice at all, only the same vice closing around her again: marry a man who despised her, or watch her father’s business destroyed.

The old instinct rose in her.

Be still. Be silent. Let them decide.

Ophelia held her ground.

“You will do as you think best, my lord. As will I. But I will not marry you.”

Markham’s smile thinned, and for the first time he allowed a snap to enter his voice, the charm vanishing.

“And why not, pray?”

“I heard you,” she answered him simply.

For the first time, he looked uncertain.

“The week before our wedding,” Ophelia said. “You were speaking to your friends in the billiard room. I heard what you called me. I heard what you said of my mother’s people and of the use you meant to make of me after you had my money.”

Josiah stared at Markham. “What use?”

Ophelia continued before either man could say anything more.

“I would sooner be ruined honestly than marry a man who holds me in contempt and expects me to hold myself in it too. You may sue. My answer will remain no.”

The polish cracked, fully.

“We shall see how brave you are when the writs are served,” Markham said, with a snarl in his voice.

“You have my answer.” She held her head high and her voice steady, though inside she was trembling.

He took his leave.

The front door shut behind him.

Ophelia looked down at her hands.

They were not shaking.

Her father sat in silence.

At last he said, “You heard him say those things?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you not tell me?”

Ophelia looked at him.

“I tried. You called it wedding nerves.”