Page 89 of The Lost Duke of Wyndham

“Father,” Lady Amelia cried out, “you cannot do this.”

Crowland ignored his daughter completely. “My daughter is betrothed to the Duke of Wyndham, and the Duke of Wyndham she will marry.”

“I am not the Duke of Wyndham,” Jack said, recovering some of his composure.

“Not yet. Perhaps not ever. But I will be present when the truth comes out. And I will make sure she marries the right man.”

Jack took his measure. Lord Crowland was not a feeble man, and although he did not exude quite the same haughty power as Wyndham, he clearly knew his worth and his place in society. He would not allow his daughter to be wronged.

Jack respected that. If he had a daughter, he supposed he’d do the same. But not, he hoped, at the expense of an innocent man.

He looked at Grace. Just for a moment. Fleeting, but he caught the expression in her eyes, the subdued horror at the unfolding scene.

He would not give her up. Not for any bloody title, and certainly not to honor someone else’s betrothal contract.

“This is madness,” Jack said, looking around the room, unable to believe that he was the only one speaking in his defense. “I do not even know her.”

“That is hardly a concern,” Crowland said gruffly.

“You are mad,” Jack exclaimed. “I am not going to marry her.” He looked quickly at Amelia, then wished he hadn’t. “My pardons, my lady,” he practically mumbled. “It is not personal.”

Her head jerked a bit, fast and pained. It wasn’t a yes, or a no, but more of a stricken acknowledgment, the sort of motion one made when it was all one was capable of.

It ripped Jack straight through his gut.

No, he told himself. This is not your responsibility. You do not have to make it right.

And all around him, no one said a word in his defense. Grace, he understood, since it was not her position to do so, but by God, what about Wyndham? Didn’t he care that Crowland was trying to give his fiancée away?

But the duke just stood there, still as a stone, his eyes burning with something Jack could not identify.

“I did not agree to this,” Jack said. “I signed no contract.” Surely that had to mean something.

“Neither did he,” Crowland responded, with a shrug in Wyndham’s direction. “His father did it.”

“In his name,” Jack fairly yelled.

“That is where you are wrong, Mr. Audley. It did not specify his name at all. My daughter, Amelia Honoria Rose, was to marry the seventh Duke of Wyndham.”

“Really?” This, finally, from Thomas.

“Have you not looked at the papers?” Jack demanded.

“No,” Thomas said simply. “I never saw the need.”

“Good God,” Jack swore, “I have fallen in with a band of bloody idiots.”

No one contradicted him, he noticed. He looked desperately to Grace, who had to be the one sane member of humanity left in the building. But she would not meet his eyes.

That was enough. He had to put an end to this. He stood straight and looked hard into Lord Crowland’s face. “Sir,” he said, “I will not marry your daughter.”

“Oh, you will.”

But this was not said by Crowland. It was Thomas, stalking across the room, his eyes burning with barely contained rage. He did not stop until they were nearly nose-to-nose.

“What did you say?” Jack asked, certain he’d heard incorrectly. From all he had seen, which, admittedly, wasn’t much, Thomas rather liked his little fiancée.

“This woman,” Thomas said, motioning back to Amelia, “has spent her entire life preparing to be the Duchess of Wyndham. I will not permit you to leave her life in shambles.”

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