Page 47 of Becoming Lady Dalton
“Indeed,” she interjected. “You needn’t talk over me as if I’m invisible. Arrest me if you must, Mr. Reed. I confess nothing, for I have committed no crime. I wish to know who is my accuser. I desire legal defense. And further, I wish you release me on my own recognizance. I won’t run.”
Reed’s scarred mouth quirked up in a sneer.
“Of course you won’t, lass. Not while your husband lays dying at your sister’s townhouse.”
Viola saw her entire world shrink in that moment. It contracted around her, crushing her ribs with such force she couldn’t breathe.
“Leave him out of this,” she whispered, unable to meet Piers’ accusatory gaze.
Reed jerked his head at Dalton. “He didn’t know, did he?”
“Not the full details. He is aware that my status as widow is questionable.” As of three minutes ago, but technically she had confessed the truth. “I had no reason to tell Lord Dalton because there is nothing between us,” Viola replied evenly. Beside her, Piers flinched.
“Is that why you disappeared together down a dark hallway? Maybe his lordship is in on the scam?” Reed challenged Piers over her head.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. There is no scam. No one is in on anything. Arrest me or leave, Mr. Reed,” Viola demanded. Bravado was all she had left.
“Mrs. Cartwright, we’re leaving.”
“I’m coming with you,” Piers insisted.
Poor, stupid man. Viola spared him a glare. “Go home, Dalton. You cannot save me. Reed has decided. All he needs is eviden-”
“Aah!”
A female shriek sounded behind them. Miss Lowry knelt, delicately, and raised her skirt just enough to reveal a trim ankle and jeweled dancing slipper. Beneath her toes was a small, shining gem. An earbob, one Viola recognized.
“Lord Dalton, I’ve turned my ankle. Might I request your assistance?” Miss Lowry’s dark eyes flicked from Piers to Viola to Reed, taking in every nuance. Viola narrowed her eyes. Miss Lowry glared right back.
Dalton, gentleman that he was, offered the American his arm. They rose as one. Miss Lowry placed a hand against his waistcoat and blushed prettily.
“Your lordship, I owe you my thanks.”
“It was nothing, Miss Lowry,” Dalton responded stiffly.
“I rolled my ankle on this bauble.” Miss Lowry held it out. In her palm lay Viola’s missing earring.
“What have you to say about your missing earbob now, Mrs. Cartwright?” demanded Reed as he gave her a shake.
“Let us go, Mr. Reed. As you say, this is a discussion best held in private. Piers ... Lord Dalton. Please, if you would notify my grandmother where to find me.” Viola drew up her ragged dignity around her like a shroud. “Let her finish her game of Whist, first.”
“This is not the end of this evening, Viola,” Piers declared, as though he could command an outcome more to his liking. But some things were beyond saving, even for a marquess. Particularly, an adulteress and presumed thief. It didn’t matter that she was neither. Viola could hang for both imagined transgressions, and there was nothing Piers, or anyone, could do about it. He curled his fists at his side.
Impotent.
Powerless.
Just as he’d been when his family lay dying from fever, or his wife wasting away.
“Don’t try to be a hero,” Viola whispered as Reed led her away. They’d attracted a crowd now.
Piers bit his lip to keep from bellowing with rage. The only thing Viola had stolen was his heart. One way or another, he vowed to reclaim it.
Viola staredinto the diamond eye of the enameled gold brooch. It looked back at her, accusatory and unblinking.
“It’s not mine,” she declared around a throat thick with suppressed emotion. Rage and sadness, but mostly, fear. “Although I suppose you knew that, Mr. Reed.”
Viola tore her gaze away from the bauble on the table and met Reed’s glare calmly. He acknowledged her dig with a ghost of a smile.
