Page 52 of The Duke’s Hidden Runaway Bride

“You may still sue us, my lord. But you cannot do so safely.”

For several seconds Markham said nothing, clearly furiously trying to think of a way he could still lay claim to the James fortune.

Lady Daventry had joined the edge of the circle. She looked from the viscount she had once loved like a son to Ophelia standing before him, her chin raised defiantly.

“Crispin,” she said, “Mr. Soane is waiting in the library.”

Markham turned to her, expression pleading. “You cannot mean to take part in this farce.”

“I mean to prevent you from using my house to threaten a woman you have already wronged. You may sign the agreement or leave. If you leave without signing, you will not enter this house again.”

Adrian was proud of his mother. Lady Daventry clearly regretted the necessity, but her voice was calm and her expression firm as she made Markham’s position clear. And Markham knew that if he was refused entry to Daventry House, many more doors in London would be closed to him. Ophelia’s reputation might be ruined, but Markham’s would be too; and Adrian thought Markham feared social ruination far more than Ophelia did.

Markham looked around the circle. Sir Hugh stood grim and unyielding. Josiah’s face was grey, but he remained steadfast beside his daughter. Lady Elise looked as though she would happily summon the footmen herself to have him tossed from the building. Behind them waited a roomful of people whose expressions clearly indicated they had already begun revising their understanding of Markham’s character.

Last of all, Markham looked at Adrian.

“This is what you choose?”

“No,” Adrian said. “Miss James chose. I am standing with her.”

Markham smoothed the front of his coat. By the time he turned towards the library, his composure had returned, though his face remained bloodless.

“Very well. Let us finish this absurdity.”

Soane read every clause aloud, his voice dry and unhurried, the nib of his pen scratching a small counterpoint whenever he paused to mark a page. Markham released Ophelia and Josiah from all claims arising from the engagement, the articles, and the abandoned wedding. He undertook to withdraw the threatened proceedings and to make no further public allegation concerning either of them.

In return, Adrian agreed that once the necessary assignments had been completed, Markham’s principal debts would be held upon terms that allowed payment without immediate ruin. The agreement offered no forgiveness and no money free of obligation. It offered only survival.

Markham signed before Soane, Fenwick, Josiah, and two witnesses.

When it was done, he laid down the pen and looked at Adrian, his eyes glittering meanly.

“I hope she is worth the cost.”

Adrian glanced at Ophelia, who stood beside her father, both of them wearing expressions of pure relief.

“You have never understood what anything is worth. Friendship, least of all.”

Markham left through a side door before the Twelfth Night cake was cut.

Adrian watched him go without triumph. Their years of friendship had not vanished cleanly, however rotten its foundation. It left behind shame and regret, and a lingering awareness of every occasion on which Adrian should have spoken sooner.

It was finished, all the same.

He turned towards Ophelia, the centre of attention in the ballroom now; several of the Ton’s senior matrons deigning to notice her. Lady Elise smiled triumphantly as she saw Adrian approaching.

Ophelia had freed herself from Markham. She had stood before the very society that had mocked her and exposed the deception with which he meant to control her. Adrian’s money had given the threat weight, but the choice to use it and the courage to speak had been hers.

He would not permit the room to remember the victory otherwise.

“Miss James,” he said.

Conversation quieted around them.

Ophelia looked at him. The ordeal had left her pale, but she did not lower her eyes.

Adrian crossed the space between them and bowed. Not the shallow acknowledgement of a duke to a wealthy merchant’s daughter, but a deep, formal bow he might have offered to a princess of the blood royal.