Page 80 of How to Best a Marquess

Ellie left her brother’s study in a daze. Anguish seared her heart. She’d lost everything. The club. Her plans to work with Violet to help the beaten, desperate women. Her dream of independence.

And Hugh.

A hand landed on her arm. She knew who it was before he turned her around. Hugh’s face was tight as he stared down at her. She should feel hatred, yet she felt only sadness.

“I never meant for this to happen, Ellie.”

Anger bubbled in her veins along with awareness of the man. She despised her reaction toward him. She jerked free of his hold. “Liar! What did you think would happen?”

“I had no choice. I saw you leave the club yesterday and overheard you speak with Violet Lasher. Baron Willoughby hired a private investigator. Even knowing how unstable and dangerous the baron is, you plan on handling him yourself. And you agreed to continue to work with Violet Lasher.”

He’d heard her conversation? “You fool! I was going to accept your proposal and inform you of our meeting.”

His brow creased. “Am I supposed to believe this?”

“It’s true, but you didn’t trust me, did you? You needed to control the situation—to once again do what you thought was best—without consulting me. You have not learned or changed your ways. And—once again—I will suffer for my lack of judgment!”

He reached for her once again. “Ellie—”

She swiftly stepped back. “No. Don’t touch me. Don’t ever touch me again. You have what you wanted. The Raven. And you’ve guaranteed my protection by banishing me to the country. There is nothing left.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she whirled and ran. She sprinted through the halls, not caring about the servants who gaped, and made it to her upstairs bedchamber and slammed the door. She managed to sag against the wood before the first hot tear trickled down her cheek.

…

She despised him.

How could he have made matters disintegrate so swiftly between them?

A sourness settled in the pit of Hugh’s stomach during the entire carriage ride back to the Raven Club. He went directly to the boxing room.

She was going to say yes, to tell him she’d met with Violet and that the baron was still a threat, to trust him.

Bloody hell.

He scanned the large room for someone to fight. No one was around except for two young boys who swept the floor.

Tossing his jacket onto a chair, he savagely worked loose the knot of his cravat and tugged his shirt over his head. Both pieces joined his jacket. He grasped the steel bar above the doorway and began pulling himself up, then down. He counted to fifty, then kept going. Soon, his arms screamed in protest. He ignored the pain.

After overhearing Ellie’s conversation with Violet, he’d done what he’d had to do, what he’d believed was right. He’d thought about his decision for countless hours before he found himself in the Earl of Castleton’s study. Hugh’s motivations for confronting Ian had nothing to do with the club, but rather Ellie’s safety.

She needed to end her association with Violet Lasher. Christ, it was dangerous enough to send Baron Willoughby’s wife off into the country, but to face the deranged man once again and to continue to work with Violet was downright reckless.

Dammit. The woman did not have a bone of self-preservation in her body.

If Ellie had won the club and Hugh went on his way, who would protect her? Who would know to? Without his help, eventually her luck would run out.

His nerves tensed at the thought of Ellie threatened or worse, injured. The baron would stop at nothing to find his wife. His jaw clenched as his fingers tightened on the bar, and he continued to pull himself up, then lower his weight.

Yes, he’d been convinced his visit to Ian was necessary. It didn’t matter if she hated him. With Ellie ensconced in the country, she’d be safe from a madman.