Page 80 of To Catch a Viscount

Revulsion snaked through her, and Marcia hugged herself more tightly before she registered what she was doing and noted his cold amusement as he took in her solitary embrace.

Marcia forced her arms back to her sides.

“Yes, yes,” he murmured, more to himself. “I would recognize you anywhere, Marcia.” He came closer, and reflexively she took a step away from him.

The emotionless, icy grin on his face widened, and this time when he continued forward, she planted her feet on the wood floor, making herself stand tall and proud.

“Sweet, is it not? Like father, like daughter.”

Marcia’s fingers curled sharply against her palms, her nails digging painfully into her flesh, shredding the skin. She welcomed the sting of pain.

I am going to be ill.She was going to cast up the contents of her stomach right there on his shoes.

“What do you want?” she demanded, proud of that steady deliverance.

“Your mother and her husband have been most unkind to me,” he said. “They have run me off and hidden my child from me. They have beggared me, making it impossible for me to make a respectable match.”

“They’ve saved some respectable woman from a future of misery with you. That’s what they’ve done,” she said, looking him up and down.

He looked at her and then tossed his head back and laughed. “Oh, Marcia, you have your mother’s spirit. She was a fighter, too.”

A fresh wave of bile climbed into her throat.

“You asked what I want? I want Wessex and his terrible friend Lord Rutland to stand down,” he said icily. “Given the unlikeliness of that, perhaps you would care to remind Lord Wessex that I’m looking to have a relationship with my daughter, unless he’d rather I stay away.”

“In which case?”

“In which case I’d expect a small sum of five thousand pounds. To ease my pain in being denied your company.”

“You want to bribe my father?” she asked flatly.And he’d use me as a pawn. He’d use his claim to me to extract money from the viscount.

“I want you to remind Lord Wessex that your real father would like nothing more than to spend time with my daughter, but I would be willing to forgo my greatest wishes to know you, for the right price,” he said silkily. “Otherwise, I can and will be sure to visit his household every day until he grants me an audience with you.”

In other words, he’d continue to come to her family’s home, reminding her mother of his presence.

As if she can possibly forget,a panicky voice taunted.

It was enough that her mother had to contend with the daily reminder Marcia provided. But having to face him, to look out her window and see him standing outside, requesting entry… And all the papers would write of it. They’d continue to drag forth the gossip about Marcia’s mother’s past affair with the marquess, when in truth he’d been no lover, but a rapist.

When she managed to find her voice, it emerged garbled. “Stay away from me,” she warned. “And stay away from my family.”

“You wound me once more,” he drawled. Removing his gloves, he beat those white leather articles together. “I’ll give you a week in which to speak to Lord Wessex and see those funds transferred to me, at which point you have my assurance that I will not pay my first sweetheart and the daughter she gave me a visit.”

“She was not your sweetheart,” she hissed. “You, my lord, are a monster. And I amnotyour child.”

Suddenly, he surged forward, and Marcia gasped, attempting to retreat, but he gripped her arm hard. “Ah, but you are, Marcia,” he whispered. “And you know it.” He grabbed her right hand with his free one, his hold harsh and hard and vile, and tears pricked her lashes as she attempted to wrestle free of him. “You see it there on your skin,” he murmured, forcing her wrist upward, forcing her to look upon that birthmark she wore, the one they shared. “Why, even in the company you keep and the wicked places you visit, you prove time and time again that blood indeed runs thick.” And then, like she were a small child, he released her and patted the top of her head. “A week, dearest.” With that warning, he left, closing the door behind him.

Marcia remained absolutely motionless, afraid to move, the world all distorted and twisted in her mind.

Her entire body slumped, and she leaned against the wall behind her, borrowing support, trying to will her legs to work so she could flee this place.

The door opened, and she stiffened. He’d returned.

“Marcia!”

Only, it wasn’t him—her father, the rapist and blackmailer—and a giddy relief swept through her, bringing her eyes shut.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” Andrew demanded, stalking over. “I’ve had a hell of a time finding you. Do you know the danger—?”

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