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Sir Kier’s lips cracked into a hard, smug smile. “I’ll not be caught up in some scheme to entrap me in marriage.”

“I don’t want you,” said Miss Duncan, her words fierce.

“But, Sir Kier, you have to marry Ina,” said Mrs. Coleman. “You’ve ruined her.”

Ruined. It was a dirty word. An illicit one that conjured up all sorts of images of a young lady’s bad behavior. Very little of it ever fell back on the gentleman involved unless he was caught so publicly he was forced to marry the girl. But that required the lady to have parents with a strong hand. Perhaps if Ina’s mother, Brianna, had still been alive, Moira could’ve coaxed the match, but Brianna had been dead too long, and she doubted Arthur Duncan ever emerged from his study long enough to pay his daughter any mind.

Still, it was worth a try.

“You will marry Miss Duncan,” said Moira, “or I will see to it that you’re barred from every household of quality in this city and a good number of those in London as well. The women of the ton will put up with a great deal from a gentleman, but they can be formidable when they set their minds to it.”

Fear crept into Sir Kier’s swiftly blackening eyes, but still he held his ground. “You couldn’t do that.”

Moira arched a brow. “Is that a challenge?”

Sir Kier rose to his feet, clutching his bloodstained handkerchief to his nose. “I’ll not be threatened like this.”

“You can’t leave!” cried Mrs. Coleman. “Mrs. Sullivan, make him stop.”

The man sneered. “Try.”

No one moved when Sir Kier marched to the door.

“Excellent,” she said as the door slammed shut. “I’m glad we’ve cleared that up.”

No woman should be saddled with a husband like Kier.

Mrs. Coleman swung round, her eyes pleading. “You must fix this.”

“I plan to,” said Moira.

“This happened under your roof,” Mrs. Coleman continued. “How could you invite such an odious man?”

“Aunt Jacqueline,” Miss Duncan chided, “Mrs. Sullivan isn’t to blame for Sir Kier’s actions.”

“But he was a guest in her home,” her aunt pressed. “If she didn’t keep such inappropriate company, none of this would ever have happened. All of those artists and poets and libertines.”

Clawing her way up the social ladder from poor relation to dancing mistress to wealthy man’s wife until finally she was a woman of independent means had instilled in Moira a higher degree of tolerance for insult than most; however, even she had her limits.

“He wasn’t a guest,” she said, her tone low and warning. “He was brought by someone without my knowledge, and you can be assured there will be consequences. However, those artists and poets you speak so derisively of are welcome in my home, and I will not have them maligned.”

“My apologies. I spoke without thinking,” said Mrs. Coleman quickly. “This is all most distressing.”

At least on that they could agree.

“This still happened under my roof, and I’ll take responsibility for the safety of Miss Duncan.” Moira’s expression softened. “Did he hurt you?”

The young lady shook her head. “The heel of my hand stings a bit, but that’s because I used it to hit him.”

“Good,” Moira said, even though she could see that the skin exposed by Ina’s ripped cuff was covered in goose bumps from shock. “Then I’m afraid it’s time to face the fact of the matter.”

“What is that?” asked Mr. Barrett.

Moira shrugged. “As Mrs. Coleman says, Miss Duncan must marry.”

For the second time that evening, it felt as though the bottom had fallen out of Ina’s stomach.

“No,” she said at the same time her aunt said, “It’s high time.”