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  “Thank you.”

  He handed them down.

  After ordering tea, she led him upstairs to the small parlor she used in the afternoons. The furniture was old-fashioned but serviceable. Her father preferred the styles of a generation ago—William Kent rather than Chippendale, stateliness over grace.

  He did not remark on the furniture or the gray day outside. Rain dripped on to the windowsill and over the strictly neat and tidy but cheerless garden. Like everything else here, it was arranged as the duke pleased, and he never consulted anyone else on his decisions.

  “I suppose you have worked out why Lou isn’t in society.” Her words dropped into the silence.

  Val thrust his hands in his pockets and made a circuit of the room, behind the heavy sofa, around the front of it, and behind the big armchair. That brought him back to face her. “Yes, damn it, I do.”

  She didn’t comment on the inappropriate word. Gentlemen tended not to use it in a lady’s presence, although several showed no compunction. Strangely, the roué and shockingly scandalous Lord Valentinian Shaw had not done so.

  Even if their association was about to end, she might find a friend in him, one who could help her in her little conspiracies. “Lou will probably always have a child’s mind.” She kept his gaze, needing to see his reactions. “She was born with the features you see, not unpleasing, but certainly different.” Louisa’s eyes were smaller than the norm, and her face rounder. “As time went by, we noted disturbing traits. She finds difficulty speaking sometimes. Her studies did not progress. Our father does not demand a great deal of education, but ladies must be able to sew, to keep a set of housekeeping books, and to play a keyboard instrument. She must curtsy gracefully and converse with politeness and deference. Most of all, she must obey.” Charlotte firmed her jaw, waiting for his response.

  “That sounds deadly dull.” His mouth quirked in a flash of a smile that disappeared into nothing. “Have you been trying for that all this time?”

  “We all did,” she said. “We have little choice. But Lou failed. She could never do it, and the more she tried, the worse it got. Father could not stand the sight of her. We did our best, my brother, my older sister, and I, but it was never enough. He wants to commit her.”

  His head jerked back as if she’d slapped him. “Is she dangerous?”

  “Not at all. She is gentle and shy. She dislikes crowds. At one point we considered introducing her to society, but it would not do. She could not bear all those strangers looking at her, and she went into strong hysterics the one time we tried. That would have played into my father’s hands. Louisa suffers from delicate health, and our father has used this to excuse her absence, when people asked after her.”

  “Oh, my dear.” Dragging his hands out of his pockets, he reached for hers.

  His warm hold gave her the strength to continue. Recalling that time hurt. Only two years ago they had tried to introduce Lou, choosing a dinner party as the best way. Lou didn’t even get that far. In the drawing room, before they’d gone to eat, she’d started screaming, clapping her hands over her ears. Gripping his hands tightly, Charlotte continued. “Lou prefers a quiet life, but his grace gives us no quarter. Where he goes, we go. We assume he wishes to catch Lou in enough wrongdoing to send her to an institution for the insane. When I—” No, that was going too far. She could not tell him of her father’s threats.

  “That is how he keeps you in line, is it not?”

  She tried to laugh off his suggestion but failed miserably. He had plunged straight to the heart of the matter. “Partly. He sent George abroad on the Grand Tour, and Sarah ran away. Eloped.” She cleared her throat. “One day she will return, but until recently she has been ill, following the birth of their first child.” A smile broke through. “She is almost recovered. Her husband would not hear of her undergoing more strain.”

  “She eloped with Sir Samuel Heath, did she not?”

  “Did you know him?” she said eagerly.

  Regretfully he shook his head. “Not well. I met him no more than twice, but the elopement was the talk of the town.”

  She nodded. “Father took us into the country.”

  His perceptive gaze scanned her. “I will ask more, but not now.”

  He dropped her hands as the maid came in with a tray of tea. She gave him a glare before she left. The duke would get to know about this, she was sure. So she said, “Could you inform my aunt that his lordship has arrived and I am in need of her chaperonage?”

  The maid dropped a sullen curtsy and left.

  “She won’t come,” Charlotte assured him. “She’s out with my father.”

  He nodded and watched her cross the room to pour the tea. She felt his gaze burning her back, but she kept her hands steady. “Do sit down.”

  “If you join me.”

  She did so, bringing the filled tea dishes over to the table before the sofa. Taking her time spreading her skirts, she folded her hands neatly in her lap, preparing herself for the ordeal ahead. After all, she had asked for their association broken. She was still convinced she had taken the right path. In Hervey’s presence she never faltered or felt too conscious of who she was and what she was doing.

  Hervey never touched her hand and tugged, drawing her close. He never leaned over her and cupped her cheek with one hand, gazing at her as if he could see into her soul.

  The one kiss they’d shared had been dry and chaste. Not like this one.

  The moment Val touched his lips to hers, she leaned into him, lifting her hand to rest it on his shoulder. Even under the layers of cloth coat, waistcoat, and shirt she felt his muscles shift and flex. He pulled her closer, urged her without speaking to rest her head on his shoulder while he plundered her mouth, sliding his tongue inside to claim and possess.

  Wildness surged through her, taking her into a place that terrified and excited her. She hardly knew herself. Where had this wanton creature come from? This was wrong. She should not, could not continue to do this.

  He had the potential to make her his slave, and Charlotte was done with slavery. She yearned for an equal relationship, one born of rationality.

  Rationality was the last thing she was thinking of now. She could not continue in this way. While he stroked her, urging her to do more, to give him more, she had no choice. He seduced her, body, soul and mind. She was his.

  The front door slamming and the sound of her father’s voice booming, filling every part of the house, broke the spell and made her shudder. Hastily, she dragged herself away. Or rather, she tried to, but his arms firmed around her.

  He gazed down into her face. “I’m not ending our betrothal,” he said.

  Chapter 8

  Regret seared Val as the lovely woman in his arms turned into the straitlaced, horrified Lady Charlotte Engles. He wanted her to accept him, but obviously that would not happen any time soon.

  When she pulled away, this time he let her go, although his senses screamed at him to keep her, to continue what they had started.

  Why this woman and why now? The idea of marrying anyone at all had always sent him running before. Even his betrothal to Charlotte had the aim of avoiding betrothal to anyone else. At the time several mamas had come too close, and his parents making encouraging noises for him to propose to one or the other. His choice of Charlotte had shocked them, but the solution had struck him as audacious and expeditious.

  Now it appeared anything but, and the notion of a marriage of convenience laughably distant. He had tripped himself up with his own cleverness. Maybe it served him right. Because he wanted Charlotte with a desperation he barely recognized in himself.

  “Why are you doing this?” she demanded. “Why?” Her voice rose into despair.

  He could not tell her the truth. Charlotte was an innocent; he could not tell her of the depths of depravity her suitor had sunk into. But perhaps he could modify what he’d learned, make it more suitable for a lady’s ears. “I have my doubts about Lord Kellett. I won’t releas
e you to him while there is any doubt about his character.”

  “Doubt?” Her voice remained shrill. “He’s a perfect gentleman. He has never treated me with anything but respect. How dare you insinuate anything else? Do you mean to ruin his character?”

  There was no need for that. Val had already decided to collect more evidence, and he’d begun to send rumors around the clubs. The sight of the girl at the House of Correction and the red-faced furious Kellett brandishing a whip would never leave him. That was not a perfect gentleman. But he was much worse than that. Kellett was a savage brute, one he would never allow near his sweet Charlotte.

  Charlotte looked anything but sweet now, her features pale and trembling. “You would ruin me?”

  “Anything but ruin you.”

  “But associating with you will ruin me for sure. My father will never allow it!”

  As if conjured up by magic, the door opened to reveal the Duke of Rochfort. “What will I not allow? I will not allow you to speak for me, madam. That is certain.”

  Val was forced to make his bow. Despite her agitation, Charlotte dropped a curtsy. When she rose, she had donned the face Val was beginning to hate—smooth, untroubled and cold. The only sign of the inner Charlotte was the slight trembling of her hands when she poured tea for her father.

  The duke bade Val sit, much as a king would address a beggar boy. He avoided looking Val in the eye, because Val, as a younger son, was not worth his regard. Val would change that, he vowed. The duke would bow to him before he was done.

  Angry at the duke’s unwanted entrance into a scene he was beginning to understand, Val turned his fury on to him, especially when Charlotte placed the tea carefully before her father and then went to stand by the side of the chair he sat in.

  With his new knowledge, Val understood what was happening here. Charlotte would not leave her sister, and he could not blame her, but until she reached the age of twenty-one, Louisa was a minor and under her father’s control. Val would do everything he could to get her away from him. Perhaps he could contact their older sister, but he didn’t know if she could do anything, either.

  He hardly recognized the carefree, debauched Lord Valentinian Shaw anymore. But he would not walk away from this, as he usually did when situations became difficult. He would never forgive himself if he did that, and he would be right.

  The duke did not care to make polite conversation. He sipped his tea, slurping it before replacing the dish in the wide saucer. “Do you have any requests for me, sir?”

  “I collected your daughters from the milliner’s since the crowd was growing rowdy and insulting.”

  “Crowd?” The duke narrowed his eyes.

  “It is execution day at Tyburn, sir. I judged it appropriate to remove your daughters from the scene.”

  The duke regarded him for a minute. Presumably he was employing a technique that intimidated his womenfolk, but he had no threats that would hold with Val. He would fight this man, if need be. He’d send the entire force his family could unleash on to him. His mother had been a Vernon, and he was a Shaw, the combined power of their families more than this man could handle. If Rochfort wanted a battle, he could have one.

  Eventually the duke spoke. “I dare say since you were there, it was not an inconvenience to you. I trust my youngest girl behaved correctly?”

  The thought of the sweet, innocent Louisa in this man’s control hurt Val. Louisa needed a far less restrictive atmosphere. Encouraged to be herself, she might flourish. Here, in this cold, strictly run household, she would wither away. “Perfectly, your grace.”

  Although she didn’t move a muscle, he felt Charlotte’s relief. Did she really think he would betray her? The notion sent a shot of anger through him, but Val suppressed it. “I came to inform your daughter that I do not wish to release her from our arrangement.”

  “You do not? Are you then the vacillating kind of youth who appears all too frequently in today’s society? You have no backbone, sir. I would remind you that my daughter has been approached by a gentleman much more agreeable to me.”

  If he told Rochfort what he had seen, would the man step back?

  He doubted it. He would be more likely to ask Val what he was doing in the House of Correction. Val doubted the duke knew about Kellett’s less savory activities.

  The duke dug in his pocket and brought out an elaborately gilded snuffbox. He opened it and helped himself to a generous pinch. Without being asked, Charlotte handed him a white handkerchief, which he proceeded to despoil.

  He did not offer the box to Val.

  “Have you created yet another scandal, Lord Shaw?”

  “Not to my knowledge.” Val’s words were clipped, and regretfully he made a note not to allow his temper out. Not yet. Not until he was sure Charlotte was out of that man’s clutches. At least her father kept her safe, although in his eyes she was more of an investment to be made judiciously than a flesh-and-blood person. But he valued her.

  If what Val had seen in Covent Garden was typical of Kellett’s private life, he would kill Charlotte in a year. Val would not allow that to happen. The mask had been torn from Kellett’s face, and Val had seen the ugly truth beneath.

  “I would appreciate a private word with you, sir.”

  At a curt nod from her father, Charlotte left, her head down, her manner servile enough to infuriate Val.

  He wasted no time getting to the point. He explained what he had seen in terse, unadorned sentences. The duke listened in silence.

  “I cannot believe you will wish for your daughter to marry a man who engages in such matters.”

  The duke cleared his throat. His expression had changed, his already florid complexion redder, his eyes narrowed. “I cannot condone your interference in what is no longer your business,” he said. “Sir, I will thank you to leave. Your association with my daughter is at an end.”

  Val’s mouth tightened. “Not if my father does not agree. The contract is signed, sir. We will not hesitate to sue you if you try to break it without our agreement.” And he would never agree to break it while Kellett was in the picture. “Do you have no concern for your daughter’s safety?”

  The duke lifted a massive shoulder. “Kellett is evidently ridding himself of his baser instincts in an acceptable way. If Charlotte is amenable and obedient, she need never fear him.”

  Anyone who behaved as Kellett had did not have enough control to be certain of that. Val had been making enquiries. He had discovered men who preferred the House of Correction and received enough information that indicated Kellett’s behavior was, as the madam had said, unacceptable and well out of the ordinary. How could Rochfort condone that? How could he even consider leaving his own flesh and blood in the care of such a man?

  The duke refused to discuss the matter any longer, apart from forbidding him to tell Charlotte anything of what he had learned. Val refused to give his promise. He would do his best to keep such painful knowledge from her, but he would not put it out of consideration.

  He would not stay here any longer. The negotiations between his father and the duke would take a different turn. He was still willing to release Charlotte, even though the thought of relinquishing her made him despair, but not to Kellett. Not to that madman. The duke had formed an opinion on the character of the man and refused to budge from it.

  Not only stubborn, but stupid.

  Val hated leaving Charlotte in that house. Her father would castigate and humiliate her and force her to apologize for something that was not her fault. The duke was a monster. The way she had stood by his chair infuriated Val. Nobody should make his children do that. But he could not take her today, so he reluctantly behaved politely to the duke, appeared to agree with his strictures without making definite promises, and left.

  He entered the London town house intent on finding his father and stopping any negotiations to cancel the marriage contract, but he was distracted by a call from his brother. “Val—come in here.”

  Obligingly,
he went into the room at the front of the house, a small parlor the family often used to meet privately. The furniture was comfortable but not showy, the atmosphere completely informal. His sisters often spent time reading or sewing here, in preference to their own bedrooms or the grander state rooms.

  He was not surprised to find Ivan Rowley there, but Ivan’s solemn expression gave him pause. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?” Val demanded.

  Darius closed the door quietly and leaned against it, folding his arms over his dark green coat and plain buff waistcoat. The clock on the mantelpiece struck the hour, and he waited for the chimes to stop until he made his announcement. “Janey died an hour ago.”

  Val took a minute to identify Janey. Then he had it, and realization slammed into him. “The girl from the House of Correction?”

  Darius nodded.

  “Where is her body? Will the madam report the crime?”

  Ivan gave a hollow laugh. “What do you think? It was only because Darius returned to check on the girl that we know.”

  Darius heaved a sigh. “Her wounds were deep. The madam called a doctor, who cleaned and dressed the wounds, but she took an infection. The end came mercifully fast for her. It could not have been pleasant.”

  Janey would never get her stripes bonus. As soon as he thought it, Val experienced a wash of shame and nausea. The girl had suffered greatly because of Kellett. He would pay for that. “I am on my way to find Papa. I’m not canceling the marriage contract with Charlotte. I told her father what kind of man Kellett was, but he refused to reconsider betrothing her to him.”

  “I would not trust Kellett not to fight for her. He might offer the duke more inducements.”