This was the story of a hundred fathers. Ewan reached for the latch again.
“She tried to elope,” the duke said quickly, “but the man backed out at the last minute. He knows I will not give her a shilling if she elopes with him, and he wants the blunt. Her dowry is quite large, you see. She is headstrong and willful, and her mother and I indulged her too much. We see that now. We allowed her to run amok in the country, and we’re finding it difficult to rein her in now that we are in Town. I worry she will be easy prey for the fortune hunters.”
Ewan looked back at the duke who had taken a seat behind his desk again and who raked his hands through his hair.
“There are as many fortune hunters as there are heiresses. You don’t need me.”
“But I do. This man—I fail to understand why Lorrie cannot see that his charm is but an act and beneath the handsome face is a snake. But she fancies herself in love. I ordered her to search among the list of eligible gentlemen her mother and I have drafted, and she agreed reluctantly. But I do not think this man will allow her the opportunity to fall in love with another. I fear he will try to monopolize her at events or convince her to pretend she has a megrim and stay home. I need you to keep Mostyn away from Lorrie.”
Ewan’s focus suddenly sharpened, and a chill ran down his arms. “Mostyn?”
“Yes… Oh, I meant to tell you. I feared you might not accept because he is your cousin, but I hoped you might look beyond that to come to my aid.”
“Francis Mostyn.” Ewan had several cousins, but he could see Francis’s fingerprints all over this. A cold ball formed in the pit of Ewan’s belly, the seed of an emotion Ewan knew well—hate.
“That is he. My information is that you two are not close, but I understand if you feel compelled to reject my offer because of your relation—”
“I accept.”
“—but I hoped to convince… You accept?”
“This position, what you want me to do? It prevents Francis Mostyn from taking what he wants?”
“Assuming he wants my daughter and her fortune, yes, I would rely on you to prevent them from eloping and to keep him from her as much as possible. As to whether she meets another man she might consider marrying, I do not know. But I have every hope that given time, Francis Mostyn will show his true colors.”
Ewan nodded. He hardly heard the duke. Hate and the desire for vengeance clouded his every sense. “I need a tour of the house and to meet every servant you employ.” His voice sounded far away and strangely calm, though fury and rage churned in him.
The duke raised his tea, then set it down again. “You mean you intend to begin now?”
“Now.” Ewan nodded.
“I… But you have not even looked at my offer.”
If that was what the duke needed to call the housekeeper to show Ewan the house, he’d do it. But the money no longer mattered. Revenge on Francis Mostyn was payment enough. Ewan crossed to the desk and unfolded the paper. It was a number with several zeroes after it, as he’d anticipated.
He raised his gaze to the duke’s. “I looked. Where’s the housekeeper?”
“Ah, I will ring for her. You could start tomorrow, you know.”
Ewan stared at the duke, who finally raised his hands in surrender and pulled the bell cord. “I had thought to prepare the staff and my duchess for your—er, arrival. Please do not be offended if some of the staff is taken by surprise.”
What the duke really meant was that the staff and the family might be intimidated by him. Ewan was used to the reaction, and it would not be a problem. The only problem Ewan foresaw was with the Lady Lorraine. She was not intimidated by him.
That would have to change.
Three
Lorrie had barely had time to change her dress and brush all of the twigs from her hair when the summons came. Both Lorrie and Nell, her maid, looked up in surprise when the housekeeper knocked and then burst into Lorrie’s bedchamber.
“Forgive me, my lady,” Mrs. Davies said with a quick curtsy. Her pale brow wrinkled to see Nell styling Lorrie’s hair, as that was usually a task reserved for first thing in the morning and then again before dinner, but the housekeeper did not comment. She had served the family since before Lorrie had been born, and the older woman claimed more than one of her gray hairs came from Lady Lorraine. “Your father wishes to see you, my lady. In the library. Immediately.”
Lorrie sighed. “Of course. I will be there directly.” Dratted Viking. She should have known she could not trust him to help her. Now she would have to sit through another lecture about staying close to her chaperone. She would be fortunate if her father did not forbid her to take Welly on walks.
Mrs. Davies curtsied again and rushed back out of the chamber. Nell hurried to pin Lorrie’s hair into place. When she’d finished, Lorrie rose. “Nell, would you please bring Wellington to one of the footmen? He’d better go out before we have a mess to clean up.”
The two women glanced at the rug beside Lorrie’s bed, where the puppy was asleep on his back with his brown and white paws in the air.
“Yes, my lady.” Nell, who was young and pretty with round cheeks and bright red hair, put her hands on her hips and gave the dog a stern look.
Lorrie took a fortifying breath, then marched to the ground floor and tapped on the dark wooden library door.
“Come.” Her father’s voice was deep and brusque.
Lorrie opened the door enough to peek inside. Her father sat behind his desk, hands folded in front of him as though waiting for her. “Lorraine, please come inside.”
She slipped in and clasped her hands behind her back, every inch the dutiful daughter. She’d stood before him in this room many times. When she’d been young, she’d had to stand on tiptoe to see over his desk. She rather missed being able to use the large desk as protection from her father’s frosty stares. “Hello, Father. How are you?” she asked, hoping to disarm him.
“There is something we need to discuss.”
“I know, Father. And I am so, so very sorry. It won’t ever happen again.”
Her father’s dark eyes narrowed. “It won’t?”
“No. I have learned my lesson.” She nodded vigorously.
“What lesson is that?”
That was a good question. What lesson had she learned? Never trust a Viking? “I learned…the lesson you would have wanted me to learn. And in any case, it’s very possible that Viking was exaggerating. I really was not in any danger.”
Now her father rose to his feet. “Danger? What danger?”
Something was not quite right here. Lorrie began to explain, but closed her mouth when she heard the sound of a man clearing his throat behind her. She swung around and almost screamed in surprise.
The Viking stood in the back of the room, arms crossed. She had assumed he was gone and her father was alone. She hadn’t even checked to be certain her father was alone.
“Lorraine, what danger?” her father demanded.