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Her betrothed—who was kissing her when he thought she was a lady’s maid?

Elizabeth felt the simmer of anger beneath her bewilderment boil over into fury. She had been about to blurt out her own identity, but now she thought better of it. How could she trust such a man? The entire story might be a lie—after all, she was the greatest heiress in England, and men would do much for her fortune and the earldom.

He grimaced at whatever expression he saw on her face. “I know what you’re thinking—I have not treated you well since I arrived. But you have to understand that I did not know whom I could trust here. I saw you as the person closest to my lady, the way for me to reach her the easiest.”

He thought it was easy to use her? “Why did you not arrive as yourself and demand your right to speak with your betrothed?” she asked in a tight voice.

“And therein lies the problem,” he said, beginning to pace again. “When I received Lady Elizabeth’s letter about the death of her parents, I was in Normandy. I had not even known of my brother’s death until she told me. To go from being the youngest son on his own, to the baron with a bride waiting for me—I was stunned.”

“I am sorry you did not know about your brother’s accident,” she said stiffly, trying to make excuses for his behavior in her mind—if he even was John Russell.

“There is a lot I didn’t know about my brother,” he said bitterly.

She felt defensive on behalf of the man she’d loved her whole life. “I do not understand your tone of voice.”

“He is the reason I had to come to Lady Elizabeth this way. I returned to Rame Castle almost a fortnight ago, only to discover that it had been grievously neglected. Most of the tenants were gone, their fields unplanted. The sheep and cattle had been sold, and the soldiers—they were off to seek a master who would pay them. My contingent consists of myself and three men-at-arms. Not exactly an army capable of winning and defending Castle Alderley,” he added with sarcasm.

Such cruel words about William could not possibly be true. “You make no sense. I had met Lord Russell, who was a charming, sincere man. He would not deliberately abuse his own people.”

“I tried to think that,” he said quietly.

When he sat down on the bed beside her, she jumped to her feet to put distance between them, holding her arms over her ruined gown.

“But the proof is Rame Castle,” he continued. “More than one servant swore to me that William preferred London to his own estate. And living at court requires money to keep up the correct appearances—according to my brother, anyway. I wouldn’t be surprised if he just assumed that soon he’d be earl, with all the money he needed to return our home to its former glory. But our people…” He ran a hand down his face, his dark whiskers shadowing his cheeks.

“So you have no money,” she said slowly, avoiding the way he slurred his own brother, “no army, no way to prove that you are Lady Elizabeth’s betrothed.”

“Oh, I have proof, for all the good it will do me. I have the ring.”

But he didn’t produce it, and she realized just in time that she was only a maid, and could not ask such things of him. She remembered the ring well enough from her childhood. It had been the insignia used to seal her betrothal contract. She had been so young, so innocent; she had thought it meant freedom for her. At the time, the ring had freed her from men trying to take advantage of her. It had promised her a future with a handsome, smiling man who would someday wear it⁠—

Now the ring tied her to another man—a liar, a user of women. A man who would betray his own brother’s memory.

She stared at him and realized to her dismay that the blue of his eyes had always attracted her—because it had been the same color as William’s. No wonder he had seemed familiar that first day she’d seen him lying wounded in the great hall. He did not have William’s handsome looks, but his hair was the same shade as their other brother, Robert.

Could he really be John Russell?

She had thought this day would be one of rejoicing. Instead all she wanted to do was cry as her last dreams of a romantic, happy marriage died. This man did not hold women with the reverence they deserved.

“Do you believe me?” he asked.

“It is not for me to believe or disbelieve,” she said without expression. “It is my lady you must convince.”

“Nay, it is you, too, I must convince, Anne.”

His voice rang with the tones of truth and sincerity, but she could believe none of it.

“I have treated you poorly, and only because I had to. I could see no other way to reach Lady Elizabeth than to send a message through you. I didn’t know you; I couldn’t trust that you would believe me.”

“So you felt the need to…play with my emotions?”

He stiffened. “I did not mean it to go so far. Milburn kept us together, and I thought I could control everything. I am used to that.”

He was used to being in control, she thought bitterly. Hadn’t she wanted a husband she could control, so that she could live as she wished? Instead here was John Russell, manipulating her into doing things she had never thought she would be capable of doing. What had happened to the malleable boy she remembered?

“You must forgive my behavior,” he continued.

“Must I forgive that kiss?” she whispered. “Must I forgive the actions of a man who would deliberately hurt me?”