causing Harry to reach for her waist and stabilize her as she flung her arms around her brother’s neck. Maury pulled her down next to him, forcing Miss Anderson to vacate her seat and move next to Harry. She leaned against her brother, her head resting on his chest, his arm protectively around her.
“What is it I heard about you two last night?”
She felt her face flush with shame. The talk of her had spread to the gambling hall that quickly. “I’m sorry, Maury. I misbehaved. Horribly. I had too much to drink and I—” she trailed off, looking at Lord Westerfield. She swallowed. “I misbehaved,” she repeated, dropping her eyes.
“Westerfield?” Maury demanded.
“I release you from the marriage contract,” Lord Westerfield said dully.
Her blood turned to ice.
“I will pay the full amount discussed, but I release Kitty from her obligation to marry me.”
Feeling lightheaded, she tugged on her corset to allow her ribs to expand. Shock brought her breath in little pants.
“That is unacceptable, Westerfield. You sullied her reputation by dragging her out of the ball without her escort; you cannot abandon her now.”
“There’s something…you don’t understand,” Harry said, swallowing.
Kitty’s heart beat harder.
“What is it?” Maury snapped.
“I—I forced myself on her.”
A flush of heat washed over her, replacing the cold so quickly she thought she might swoon. Miss Anderson looked positively scandalized. Maury lunged forward, his hand at Lord Westerfield’s throat. He banged his head against the back of the carriage.
“You bastard!”
“I know,” Lord Westerfield choked.
“Stop it, Maury!” she shrieked, tugging at her brother’s arm. “Stop!”
Lord Westerfield’s gaze locked on hers, revealing a depth of emotion she did not understand. Perhaps Maury saw it too, because he relaxed his hold, allowing Harry to take several deep breaths.
“You will marry her, Westerfield, or I will challenge you to a duel.”
His gaze was still fastened on her, hungry, desperate. “Only if she’ll have me,” he said in a low voice.
She took a breath, trying not to show how relieved she felt. “I have little choice, do I? If I am to be seen in society again?”
Maury released Lord Westerfield’s throat and sat back. “Then it’s settled. You’ll take her to Gretna Green at once,” he said, referring to the first changing post across the border in Scotland. It was where a couple could be married without the delay of posting of bans, or without parental consent if they were underage.
She was dismayed to see that Lord Westerfield looked positively miserable as he nodded his assent.
* * *
Harry drove to his home to pack a travel case, then returned to fetch his bride-to-be. He felt as though a stone sat in the pit of his stomach. While he’d been happy to secure Kitty’s hand through a business contract, knowing he’d forced her to marry him with such an ungentlemanly deed made him miserable. The shame that permeated his entire being was sickly familiar to him—it was one he’d felt often as a boy.
His father had been impossible to please, his endless criticisms were directed at everyone—the household staff, his mother, and particularly his only child. When the tirades came, Harry had kept silent, retreating to order—counting things, devising and solving math problems, organizing his world through the comforting solidity of numbers. Now he found himself calculating the number of miles they had to travel, translating it into hours and minutes and trying on varying options for stops or rests.
When he collected Kitty, she seemed quite composed, and he marveled anew at her poise. He helped her into the carriage and observing her wince when she sat, offered the cushion from his seat. She flushed, but accepted it. “Thank you, my lord,” she said.
After a half hour her eyes began to slowly blink, then she fell asleep. She looked so fragile, her head lolling
“What is it I heard about you two last night?”
She felt her face flush with shame. The talk of her had spread to the gambling hall that quickly. “I’m sorry, Maury. I misbehaved. Horribly. I had too much to drink and I—” she trailed off, looking at Lord Westerfield. She swallowed. “I misbehaved,” she repeated, dropping her eyes.
“Westerfield?” Maury demanded.
“I release you from the marriage contract,” Lord Westerfield said dully.
Her blood turned to ice.
“I will pay the full amount discussed, but I release Kitty from her obligation to marry me.”
Feeling lightheaded, she tugged on her corset to allow her ribs to expand. Shock brought her breath in little pants.
“That is unacceptable, Westerfield. You sullied her reputation by dragging her out of the ball without her escort; you cannot abandon her now.”
“There’s something…you don’t understand,” Harry said, swallowing.
Kitty’s heart beat harder.
“What is it?” Maury snapped.
“I—I forced myself on her.”
A flush of heat washed over her, replacing the cold so quickly she thought she might swoon. Miss Anderson looked positively scandalized. Maury lunged forward, his hand at Lord Westerfield’s throat. He banged his head against the back of the carriage.
“You bastard!”
“I know,” Lord Westerfield choked.
“Stop it, Maury!” she shrieked, tugging at her brother’s arm. “Stop!”
Lord Westerfield’s gaze locked on hers, revealing a depth of emotion she did not understand. Perhaps Maury saw it too, because he relaxed his hold, allowing Harry to take several deep breaths.
“You will marry her, Westerfield, or I will challenge you to a duel.”
His gaze was still fastened on her, hungry, desperate. “Only if she’ll have me,” he said in a low voice.
She took a breath, trying not to show how relieved she felt. “I have little choice, do I? If I am to be seen in society again?”
Maury released Lord Westerfield’s throat and sat back. “Then it’s settled. You’ll take her to Gretna Green at once,” he said, referring to the first changing post across the border in Scotland. It was where a couple could be married without the delay of posting of bans, or without parental consent if they were underage.
She was dismayed to see that Lord Westerfield looked positively miserable as he nodded his assent.
* * *
Harry drove to his home to pack a travel case, then returned to fetch his bride-to-be. He felt as though a stone sat in the pit of his stomach. While he’d been happy to secure Kitty’s hand through a business contract, knowing he’d forced her to marry him with such an ungentlemanly deed made him miserable. The shame that permeated his entire being was sickly familiar to him—it was one he’d felt often as a boy.
His father had been impossible to please, his endless criticisms were directed at everyone—the household staff, his mother, and particularly his only child. When the tirades came, Harry had kept silent, retreating to order—counting things, devising and solving math problems, organizing his world through the comforting solidity of numbers. Now he found himself calculating the number of miles they had to travel, translating it into hours and minutes and trying on varying options for stops or rests.
When he collected Kitty, she seemed quite composed, and he marveled anew at her poise. He helped her into the carriage and observing her wince when she sat, offered the cushion from his seat. She flushed, but accepted it. “Thank you, my lord,” she said.
After a half hour her eyes began to slowly blink, then she fell asleep. She looked so fragile, her head lolling
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