by Cheryl Holt
“What are you doing here?” they said in unison.
Isabella Darling sauntered over to Hannah, and Hannah was so dazed she couldn’t move. The brazen trollop kept coming until they were toe to toe, and she towered over Hannah in a threatening manner.
“I asked you first,” Miss Darling said. “Why are you in Hunter’s home? Answer me immediately!”
Hannah drew herself up to her full height, which wasn’t nearly enough to intimidate. “I shouldn’t have to converse with you. Nor do I owe you an explanation for my current circumstance.”
“You listen to me, you pathetic tart!”
Miss Darling had the audacity to grab Hannah’s arm. Hannah yanked away and said, “If you’re curious about my presence, you should discuss it with Lord Marston.”
She skirted by Miss Darling and marched down the stairs. Miss Darling peered over the railing, and she fumed, “Hold it right there, Miss Graves! I’m not finished speaking to you, and you don’t have my permission to flounce away!”
Hannah glared up at her. “It’s outrageous that you would assume you have the authority to boss me. I am not your servant and you are a doxy.”
“Where are you going?” the harpy demanded.
“I’m going to find Lord Marston to learn how fast you can be thrown out.”
“If anyone is leaving, Miss Graves, I’m sorry to report that it will be you.”
Hannah didn’t bother to respond. She simply continued on.
She’d never been so angry. During the idyllic interval she’d spent at Marston, she’d forgotten about Hunter’s life in town. She’d pretended his debauchery hadn’t occurred. She wasn’t even wed to him yet, and his mistress was strolling about, bold as brass.
How was Hannah to deal with such an unseemly situation? If she became his bride, would this be a regular sort of encounter?
She’d once asked him if he’d ever brought any other women to Marston, and he’d claimed Hannah was the only one he’d ever welcomed. She’d believed him, but Miss Darling appeared confident and settled, as if she’d visited on a hundred prior occasions.
Suddenly, Hannah was questioning every decision she’d made in the past few days. Her hasty agreement to marry Hunter underscored why a female didn’t choose a husband for herself, why her father chose for her. What did she really know about Hunter? Why would she wed him? Might it be dangerous and foolish?
He was a cad and a gambler. She’d met precisely one of his friends—the vulgar and rude Mr. Carew—and she hadn’t met any others. She’d suggested she be introduced to his father, but he’d refused to allow it.
What kind of son didn’t want his fiancée to meet his father? Was Hunter even planning to marry her? Were they actually traveling to Scotland?
He’d proposed, and she’d accepted, then he’d convinced her to ruin herself. He’d said they would be husband and wife very soon, so there was no reason to delay. Like the most naïve girl, she’d let him persuade her.
Should she have? What if he’d seduced her simply because he could? What if it had been a depraved game where she’d been the innocent and unsuspecting victim?
She reached the foyer, and a footman was passing by. When she inquired about Hunter, she was informed that he was back. She was directed to his library, with the quiet mention that he was chatting with a guest.
Who had come with Miss Darling? Was it one of her illicit friends? Was the manor to be overrun by harlots?
Hannah was so incensed she was surprised she didn’t faint.
The door was ajar as she approached the room, and she could hear male voices inside. One of them was Hunter, and she couldn’t identify the other, but she supposed it was Nate Carew. At Mr. Carew’s words, Hannah’s heart dropped to her slippers.
You still haven’t told me how I should proceed. You desperately need a new mistress. Shall I round up another group of trollops for you to interview? You didn’t like the previous ones, but pretty doxies are a penny a dozen. I can drum up more of them for you.
Hunter’s reply was even more shocking. I’ll decide about them after I return to London.
After Miss Darling had accosted Hannah at her shop, she’d asked Hunter if he was interviewing for another mistress, and he’d vehemently denied the accusation. But he’d lied to her! He’d looked her in the face and had lied!
He’d conveyed her to Marston, had charmed and wooed her, had plied her with expensive gifts, had made her start to fall in love with him. And all the while, he was arranging to resume his corrupt activities in the city.
The perception that he’d had wicked intentions toward her was growing stronger by the minute. Was he truly expecting to take her to Scotland in the morning? Why was she abruptly thinking she’d get up at dawn, only to discover that he’d snuck away like a thief in the night?
Unfortunately, she now understood why people were driven to commit a homicide. If she’d had a pistol, she’d have stomped in and shot him right between the eyes. Instead, she slapped a palm on the wood of the door and pushed so forcefully that it whipped around and slammed into the wall.
The loud bang caused Hunter and Mr. Carew to jump with alarm.
She didn’t give him a chance to speak. She merely said, “I just stopped by to inform you that your mistress, Isabella Darling, is on the premises—while I am here too.”
“I…ah…ah…can explain…”
“I don’t believe any explanation is necessary, and it appears you and Mr. Carew are very busy—with your search for a new mistress. Don’t let me keep you.”
She whirled away and ran for the stairs. As she stormed up them, Miss Darling was descending. She was smug and superior, as if she held all the cards. Well, Miss Darling could have Hunter Stone, and she was welcome to him!
“You’re a tad upset, Miss Graves,” the vicious shrew said. “What’s wrong?”
Hannah shoved by her, and Miss Darling dared to grab her arm again. From higher up the stairs, Jackson interrupted the hideous scene.
“Release her, you old whore!”
It was a horrendous remark, but Hannah was too livid to scold him. She jerked away as Miss Darling snidely sneered up at Jackson and said, “Were you talking to me, young man?”
“Yes, I was. Touch my sister again, and I’ll break your hand.”
Hannah flitted up to him, and they walked off together. She was shaking so violently that she was amazed she could remain on her feet.
“I was just coming to warn you about her,” he told her as they entered her suite. “Mr. Carew has arrived too.”
“I know. He’s down in the library with Lord Marston.”
“You’re so distressed. Were they discussing you? Lord Marston is so fond of you. He can’t have said anything awful.”
“It wasn’t me specifically, but I heard a terrible comment I shouldn’t have heard, so I can’t continue to tarry at Marston.”
“But…you’re leaving for Scotland tomorrow.”
“No, I’m not. I’m not sure Lord Marston ever planned to take me.”
Jackson was very astute. He studied her pained expression and recognized that there had been a dreadful incident. He didn’t question her about it. He was her fiercest champion and would always be her staunchest defender.
“How shall we proceed?” he asked. “It’s not appropriate for that slattern to be in the house with you. Shall I mention it to Lord Marston? Shall I demand he send her away?”
“I don’t care about her. We are departing instead. Would you do me a favor?”
“I’ll do you a thousand favors.”
“Find a satchel for me, so I can pack some clothes. Pack your few things too. Then request that a carriage be harnessed.”
“We’re going now?”
“Yes, now.”
“What’s our destination?”
“We’ll figure it out after we’re away.”
It was clear he was anxious to inquire about what had happened, but there would be plenty of time to confess it later. For the
moment, she had to escape or she might explode.
“All right,” he said, “I’ll bring you a satchel in a few minutes.”
“Don’t dawdle. I’m in a bit of a rush.”
“I’ll be back before you can blink.”
He dashed off, and she went into her dressing room.
In such a disordered state, she shouldn’t make important decisions, but she wouldn’t speak to Hunter Stone about what had occurred. He’d spew lies and sweet-talk her until she couldn’t tell up from down.
She just had to flee, and she’d keep moving until she was far enough away that she could breathe again.
She scrutinized the pretty garments he’d bought for her. It had been stupid to accept them, and she thought they were emblematic of how adept he was at coercing her. She didn’t want to take any of them, but she didn’t have any others.
After a hasty debate, she picked three gowns, the plainest, simplest ones of the lot, then she added a cloak, some undergarments, and an extra pair of slippers. She scooped them up and hurried out to the bedroom. She folded the items into a neat pile, so when Jackson returned with a satchel, she could stuff it full.
She wouldn’t have to delay a single second.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Hunter marched up the stairs toward Hannah’s bedroom. Since he’d never planned to marry, he’d never previously had a fiancée. He’d settled things with her so quickly that there’d been no time to make any changes in London.
He’d planned to handle all of it after he returned from Scotland. Many aspects of his corrupt existence had to be ended or hidden from her, beginning with his bevy of doxies.
After she’d run out of the library, he’d tracked down the butler and had instructed him to rid Hunter of Nate and Isabella. With Hunter being new to the title, the servants hadn’t understood the ramifications of admitting the dissolute pair.
He’d been blunt in explaining the dilemma to the older man, and the poor fellow had been very stoic about the entire affair. Hunter trusted him to get them moving, but as he reached the landing, Isabella was sauntering down the hall.
He tried to never be an ass, to never lose his temper, and she’d been his paramour for a year, so he warned himself to calm down.
No doubt Nate had allowed her to travel to Marston, but she shouldn’t have accompanied him. Hunter had strict rules about the areas of his world she was permitted to inhabit, and she recognized what they were. Her position as mistress didn’t confer the right to show up at Marston, and she knew it didn’t.
“Hunter! There you are!” she said. “I’ve been looking everywhere.”
“Isabella! Why are you here?”
His sharp tone unnerved her. “Nate and I hadn’t heard from you in days, and we were worried.”
“I am an adult male with a very full and private life that doesn’t always include you. You’re blatantly aware of that fact.”
She was never one to cower or retreat. “Yes, but we were worried. Don’t scold me for being concerned about you.”
“You’re leaving. Now,” he said.
“What? No! We just arrived, and the maids haven’t even unpacked my bags.”
“Let’s review the situation, shall we? Were you invited to visit me?”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Then I regret to inform you that you are not welcome, so you and Nate are departing for London immediately.”
“You’re being ridiculous. Half the afternoon has passed. You can’t expect us to take to the highways with evening approaching.”
“It’s little more than two hours to town. I’m sure you’ll survive.”
He clasped her arm and started down the stairs. She dragged her feet and protested, but she couldn’t prevent their descent.
“Hunter!” she complained, and as they crossed the foyer, she yanked out of his grasp. “What is wrong with you?”
He leaned in and tightly murmured, “You are not welcome, Isabella. How much more frank must I be with you?”
On observing his livid expression, she realized how far she’d stepped out of bounds, and she instantly retrenched.
“I most humbly apologize,” she said. “I sincerely assumed you would enjoy being surprised.”
“I am not surprised. I am incensed.”
He seized her arm again and stormed to the door. A footman was standing there, and he whipped it open as if they’d rehearsed the timing. Hunter kept on outside, practically carrying her as she sputtered with affront.
Nate’s carriage hadn’t appeared yet, but he was loafing, cooling his heels. At being reminded of his idiocy, Hunter’s temper flared anew. He couldn’t figure out why he and Nate were still friends, and he suspected—if his engagement wound up being scuttled—he’d blame Nate forever.
“Isabella!” Nate said. “I was wondering where you were. Hunter wasn’t glad to see us. We’ve been kicked out, but I guess Hunter has apprised you.”
“Sod off, Nate,” Isabella crudely spat.
“Watch your mouth,” Hunter snapped. “I won’t have my servants offended by your foul language.”
“Honestly, Hunter,” she replied, “what’s come over you? From how you’re acting, the world could have just ended.”
For him, maybe it had. “You’ll wait for Nate’s carriage, then you’ll climb in and depart. I won’t argue about it.”
“But I don’t have my bags! Am I to leave without them?”
“I’ll inquire of the butler. If they’re not ready, I’ll send them on.”
She stamped her foot like a spoiled toddler. “You weren’t even curious as to why I was searching for you.”
“It doesn’t matter why you were searching.”
“Why is Hannah Graves here?” she demanded. “I think I have the right to know. Am I being tossed out because of her? Is that where I am with you? If you tell me that, I’ll never believe it.”
Nate winced and leapt away, as if an explosion was imminent. As to Hunter, he furiously stated, “It’s none of your business why I’m tossing you out. I’ve ordered you to go, and go you shall!”
Isabella was obviously rattled by his outburst. “I was just asking. You don’t have to bite my head off.”
“Be silent!” He actually shouted the command, but then, he was feeling a tad unhinged. “You have become entirely too proud of your spot with me, and I suggest you reflect on that problem.”
“You haven’t picked another mistress, and you promised I could stay.”
“If that’s what you suppose, then you are either confused or you’re lying. We’re through, and I will have servants begin packing your belongings, so I can move you out of my house.”
He whirled away, and she called, “Hunter! You can’t mean it.”
He glared over his shoulder, flashing such a wave of disdain that he was amazed it didn’t knock her over. He spoke to Nate, not to her. “Get her out of my driveway and don’t travel here ever again.”
He dashed up the stairs, where the butler and a footman were gaping at the unfolding drama as if it were a thrilling theatrical play.
“Send someone to the stables,” he said. “Have them hurry with Mr. Carew’s carriage. I want those two ingrates gone as quickly as you can manage it. While they dawdle, don’t let them wheedle their way back into the manor. And take a good look at their faces. Should they show up in the future, they shouldn’t be allowed inside. Have I made myself clear?”
He was never short with other people. Most especially, he was never short with his servants, but he was just so angry! They nodded vigorously, as he marched by them.
He had to talk to Hannah, and he’d have to be more eloquent and more persuasive than he’d ever been in the past. What excuse could he give that wouldn’t sound horrid?
When he arrived at her suite, the door was open, which was a relief. He wouldn’t have to kick it in. She was in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the mattress, her feet on the floor. There was a pile of clothing stacked on the bed, and she was wearin
g a cloak and bonnet and about to flee the premises.
As he stomped over to her, she stared blandly, as if he were a stranger.
He could be incredibly obtuse, and he uttered exactly the wrong comment. “You’re not leaving.”
“You are not my husband or my father, Lord Marston. You have no right to boss me, and I have no duty to listen to you.”
“You are not calling me Lord Marston. Stop it.”
“I won’t, Lord Marston.” She deliberately and snottily used his title.
He wasn’t a man who fought or argued, and he particularly never argued with women. He barked orders and had them instantly obeyed, so her condescending retort enraged him. He grabbed the clothes, walked to the dressing room, and threw them inside.
“I repeat,” he said as he spun around, “you’re not leaving, so you can get that mad idea out of your head.”
She stood and went over to the window. He followed her and tried to hold her hand, but she lurched away, almost as if she was afraid of him.
“Jackson has already summoned a carriage for us,” she said.
“I don’t give you permission to take one of my vehicles.”
She ignored him. “I’ll return it once I reach my destination.”
He sighed with aggravation. “Hannah, we’re departing for our wedding tomorrow!”
“No, we’re not.”
“Yes, we are! We’ve had our wedding night. We don’t have any choice except to proceed.”
“We always have choices,” she sneered.
“I didn’t know Nate and Isabella were planning to visit,” he said. “I didn’t invite them.”
She shrugged. “Why would it matter if they were invited or not? They’re your friends. Of course they would feel free to pop in and surprise you.”
“I’m separating from Isabella,” he pointed out, when he probably shouldn’t have mentioned her. “My contract with her expires in a few weeks, but I’m terminating it immediately.”
“Your contract!”
The manner in which she voiced the word contract made him flinch. He wallowed in iniquity, so he conveniently forgot how far he’d strayed beyond the bounds of civilized society. He forgot how a respectable person like Hannah would view his awful habits.