Page 33 of Trapped with her Cruel Duke

His eyes darted to his wife. Her face was red with rage, her eyes flashing with anger he had ever seen from her.

“I do not know why I ever believed that you would be different now,” she spat. “There was a part of me that thought if I complied with your wishes and did your bidding, you might treat us more gently. But I was mistaken.”

She stood up, her hands clenched into fists, her body leaning slightly over the table, her eyes spitting fire as she addressed her father. The venom in her voice was startling, days of repressed fury pouring out of her.

“You will leave this house, Papa, before I throw you out. Mama, you will stay here, and I will ensure that you are escorted home when you are ready.”

There was a stunned silence around the table, and Christian clenched his jaw to keep himself from smiling. The Iron Harridan had spoken, and her will would be obeyed.

The Earl was still buttering his scone, staring up at his only daughter as though she had gone quite mad.

“Did you not hear me?” Louise bellowed.

The only sound now was the wind in the trees. Lady Northbridge was watching her daughter with an expression of awe.

The silence stretched, and then the Earl was moving. He pushed his chair back so hard that its metal frame ricocheted backward and bounced over the flagstones of the terrace. His dark eyes were blazing with suppressed fury, but as he glanced at Christian, he seemed to rein in his temper with a gargantuan effort.

“Your Grace,” he said stiffly but did not bow, “I shall see myself out.”

He spun on his heel, stalking away and back into the house.

Christian watched him, wondering if he should call Fenwick to escort the man to his carriage to drum home the point, but he decided against it. Glancing at his wife, he felt a rush of pleasure as their gazes met, a smile of satisfaction passing between them.

CHAPTER 14

After a time, Christian rose and left the ladies to it, heading to his study to check the letters that had been delivered.

He was accustomed to a great number of invitations, but since his marriage, they had exploded to an unmanageable degree. He enjoyed Society to a point—it served a purpose, after all—but he did not appreciate having his time monopolized by gossips and simpering well-wishers.

I have a club to run, which I must go back to as soon as possible.

He entered his study and spotted the silver letter tray on his desk. He frowned as he approached it.

Was there not a larger number than this when I reviewed them earlier?

Dismissing the thought, he assumed that Fenwick had gone through the pile and sorted the wheat from the chaff as he often did with his correspondence.

Sitting down at his desk, Christian sifted through the pile, paying careful attention to each letter. For many months now, he had given up hope that there would be a letter from his brother, but he checked them eagerly just the same.

Lowering the envelopes to his lap, he turned in his chair to look out at the gardens. His study was in a side wing of the house, and he could just see the edge of the table where Louise and her mother were sitting.

I did not expect her to show such fire against her father.

Christian was ashamed to admit that when he had made the deal to marry Louise, he had barely thought of who she was at all. Other than theirinterestingconversation at the masquerade ball, he had believed her to be fairly unimportant—a pawn to her father and a means to finding out the truth about Marcus’s disappearance.

Now, he regretted dismissing her so easily. The Earl was a formidable man, three times the size of his daughter, yet she had told him in no uncertain terms to leave their home.

Our home.

That concept seemed foreign to him. His stomach clenched as he acknowledged, not for the first time, that this marriage wasforever.Louise lived with him now. He would see her every day for as long as they lived.

He looked down at the letters, unfolding the top one with more force than he had intended and nearly ripping it in two.

It was yet another invitation, but this event he would definitely attend. The Barringtons’ ball was one of the most exclusive events of the Season. Christian and Marcus had to prove themselves several times over to receive this particular invitation. He would never dream of declining it.

He picked up his quill and wrote a short RSVP, before setting it aside with the letters to be sent out later that day. Many of the other letters were missives from his banker, but there was also a thick envelope from Daniel Willis. Christian opened it swiftly, finding inside the draft trust agreement for Louise. He reviewed it with some interest, his blood thrumming pleasantly in his veins at the thought that his wife would forever be protected from her father’s misdeeds.

About half an hour later, a gentle knock sounded at the door.

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