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Her heart gave a hard thud. “I will never allow you to harm Cecilia!”
“How can you stop me?” His eyes narrowed. “Who will believe you over me? I dine with lords and ladies and members of Parliament; Her Majesty the Queen asks my advice on Northern England, as if it’s a foreign country. Your struggles are pointless.”
Antoinette wondered how she could have believed him to be a kindly man. Of course, he had invited her to London to attend the opening of the Great Exhibition, and she had enjoyed it very much, and it was only when she began to notice she was attracting smiling looks and overheard comments of her soon-to-be-announced nuptials with Lord Appleby that she realized what was happening.
Surprised, she’d tried to refute the rumors, but no one seemed to believe her. And then he did ask her to marry him. She refused, as gently as she could, explaining that she had no plans to marry yet. “My sister needs me,” she’d said. “And strange as it sounds I have always held the hope that if I ever marry it will be for love.”
Whatever he thought of her naïveté, he appeared to accept her decision, which was the only reason she’d reluctantly agreed to stay on in London to help him host his soiree. And all the time he’d been planning to set her up in a compromising position. To ruin her reputation and force her to marry him whether she wanted to or not.
“I think you’re despicable. Whatever you do or say, I will never give you what you want.”
He yawned at her brave words. “You may as well; everyone believes you already have.”
“I know the truth.”
Suddenly he seemed to tire of the argument. “You will do as I say,” he said harshly.
“I won’t.”
He smiled, but there was something so calculating in it that she was chilled to the marrow. “Let me put it this way, Antoinette. Imagine you were to meet with an unfortunate accident. Cecilia would be your heir, the Dupre fortune would be hers. I’m quite sure the poor girl would be overcome with grief, and so grateful for my help and support. Who could blame her if affection soon turned to love and wedding bells rang?”
Sickened, furious, and frightened, nevertheless Antoinette kept her back straight and her chin up. If her voice shook then, she hoped he would think it was due to rage.
“Why are you doing this?”
Appleby stood up and moved to the sideboard with its array of breakfast dishes. He lifted a cover and greedily eyed the contents of the silver plate. “I need money, Antoinette. I am on the verge of an abyss. If my manufacturing business is to remain soluble, I need funds. The contract for the Great Exhibition and the new customers who will be coming to me must believe I am perfectly sound. Appearance, you see, is everything. If I can hold on, then the future will be bright, but if it is discovered I am nearly bankrupt, then I am finished.” He helped himself to sausage and bacon. “You see I am doing you the honor of being frank.”
“So you want to steal my fortune for your own benefit?”
“I have far greater need of it than you. Men rule the world, Antoinette. Women are there for our pleasure and to give us children, nothing more.”
And with that he sat down and began to eat.
But he knew her too well, she realized. He knew she would do anything, bear anything, for the sake of her younger sister. And now she was a prisoner in his Mayfair house, with no way of convincing those surrounding her of the truth.
Even the highwayman believed Lord Appleby’s lies; he’d said as much. He’d treated her like a woman who knew the ways of men, and still she’d fallen under his spell.
Antoinette hugged her arms around herself. Why did she find him so attractive? Why did the feel of his body against hers, the brush of his fingers, the taste of his lips, make her want to surrender? Was it some sort of chemical reaction? Yes, that must be it; there was a scientific reason for what she was feeling. She must look at it coolly and calmly and see it for what it was. The man was not a magician; he could not control her against her will. She would find out who he was and expose him to a magistrate. What was the punishment for holding up a coach and molesting its occupant? Transportation to New South Wales, probably, if not worse.
Antoinette put a fingertip to her lips, feeling their softness, remembering the way he had kissed her. It was a shame, really. She would have liked to experience more of his kisses.
If circumstances had been different.
Gabriel woke, bleary-eyed, to someone shaking him. For a moment he didn’t know where he was, but then he became aware of Mary Cooper’s soft, urgent voice, and groaned. It felt as if he’d only just gotten to sleep. If he wasn’t dreaming of Appleby’s sneering face, he was slowly undressing Antoinette Dupre, and he was wrung out.
“Master Gabriel? You must wake up!”
He rubbed his hands over his face and tried to gather his wandering wits. “What is it, Mary?”
“Oh, thank goodness! Master, she’s gone to the magistrate’s house! Mr. Wonicot says you must stop her.”
Gabriel wished he hadn’t brought the brandy back with him last night. He sat up. And instantly regretted it. Trying not to stagger, he swung himself to his feet and made his way carefully to the washbasin and splashed cold water onto his face until his head began to clear.
“Explain yourself,” he ordered.
Mary, who had been waiting impatiently, rushed into speech. “Miss Dupre was asking who the magistrate was and where he lived. She went on and on. Mrs. Wonicot tried to put her off but she wouldn’t be put off. ‘You haven’t answered my question,’ she kept saying, all hoity-toity like. I don’t think someone like her has the right to be so bossy, master, not when she’s no better than she should be.”
Gabriel was sorry he’d missed the scene Mary was describing. He found the thought of Antoinette being bossy strangely exciting.
