Page 65 of Rules for Heiresses
She stood and walked over to him, placing her hands on his forearms. A muscle in his cheek flexed, his dark eyes shadowed with indecision and what looked like real fear. “Nothing is going to happen to me, Courtland. Let me do this. I want to do this. A man like that deserves to pay for his crimes.”
“You don’t understand.” He let out a breath, face working in agony. “If something happened to you, it would… I wouldn’t…” He trailed off with a vicious snarl and wrenched out of her grip, stalking toward the doorway to his bedchamber.
“You wouldn’t what?”
He halted without looking back at her. His voice was the softest and yet the harshest she’d ever heard it, scraping along her nerves with ruthless precision. “You will not interfere in my affairs. You will conduct yourself as my duchess and no more. If I have to restrain you from doing something foolish and lock you in this house, Ravenna, I will do so without a qualm.”
Shock blazed through her. “You can’t do that.”
“I can and I will.” Body rigid, he was resolute. As cold as stone. “Are we clear?”
Everything inside of her rebelled at the mandate, but firing back at him would do no good in this instance. “As clear as Venetian crystal, Your Grace.”
Eighteen
Courtland studied the man sitting across from him at his club and fought not to grab him by his ostentatious teal lapels, throw him bodily into the street, and then proceed to beat the living spit out of him. Everything about Sommers made Courtland want to resort to violence.
It was a good thing that he had decided to put Sommers up at Claridge’s rather than in his own town house. Cold slithered through him at the thought of the man in any proximity to his wife. Courtland never would have wanted to put any woman in danger, but Ravenna had become…precious to him.
“A man could get used to this,” Sommers said, flinging back his third glass of expensive brandy served by an efficient footman and patting his rotund stomach. “Why would you want to give all this up and live in Antigua?”
Courtland lifted a brow. “I like living there.”
“You’re cracked.” Sommers laughed and shook his head. “Look at this! You are treated like a king. As a duke, people practically fall over to do your bidding. Men want to be you. Women fall into your lap.” He paused, a nauseating smile curling his lips. “Or just one in particular, eh? Where is the lovely duchess?”
Courtland refused to display any emotion, though his fingers clenched in his lap. “Busy being a duchess, I expect. Ladies aren’t allowed in this club.”
“As it should be. A woman’s place is at home.” Sommers grinned, showing crooked and stained teeth that demonstrated his dissipated lifestyle. “Tending the hearth and seeing to my needs. Though I imagine that your spirited wife might require some breaking in. She’s a firecracker. Heard about some of her exploits. She’s as rebellious as they come.” He smacked his lips. “I envy you the task of bringing her to heel.”
Anger spiked in his blood, but once more, Courtland gave no outward reaction. “We seem to have different opinions on women, Sommers. I do not require forced submission.”
Only blind obedience, his irritating mind reminded him.
He bit back a sigh. The man was foul in the most depraved of ways. Courtland wouldn’t even want his breath sullying Ravenna’s air.
Though the idea of using her as bait had merit, there was no chance in hell. Embry had agreed, of course. He knew exactly what kind of man they were dealing with, and he declined to put his sister in any danger. Waterstone had been on the fence—he’d seen the value of what she could offer. A woman could always get closer to a man by appealing to his vanity. It was the reason the Countess of Waterstone was so successful at what she did. Her beauty, her intelligence, and her sensuality were all honed weapons.
Ravenna was a lady, however, and not a trained spy.
“How’s business?” he asked Sommers casually, leaning back in his seat. “You mentioned you had some investments you were working on.”
“Ah, yes, shipping. It’s not as economical as I’d hoped, and the man of business is being difficult. He wants to increase his price because of some asinine bill that just got passed forbidding the taking of bribes. You English are such rule-followers. What’s wrong with bending the rules a little to line one’s pockets?”
“No one wants to go to prison. They’ve been cracking down on trading practices.” Courtland frowned. He dimly recalled hearing about the bill from the Duke of Embry that was passed by the Commons and sent for approval in the House of Lords, aimed at reducing bribes. It was no wonder Sommers was frustrated, and if Rawley had been doing as he’d been asked, Sommers’s contacts would be unforthcoming with the ships he needed.
“You know that I’m here if you need anything,” he said.
Sommers nodded. “I have it in hand, don’t you worry. There are always ways around naysayers. If it’s not money, it’s something else.”
“How so?”
“I have a philosophy about the carrot and the stick. If the carrot doesn’t work, then I’m willing to bring out the stick.”
Courtland’s eyes narrowed. “Physical threats?”
“Tell me you don’t do the same at the Starlight,” he drawled. “You abhor rule-breakers and swindlers in your establishment, and I’ve heard the rumors that you deal with them swiftly and ruthlessly. Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.”
“You’re quoting the Bible?”
