Page 142 of Harpy of the Ton
“Her husband, yes,” she said, “but you’re not my husband.”
“Not yet—but we can seal our union here and now.”
“Do you wish to ruin me?” she cried. “Like you ruined Juliette Howard?”
“That little harlot spread her legs to trap me into marriage. She’s nothing but a commoner’s daughter—their sort are animals compared to us.”
“Which is what you’re doing now, by anticipating the wedding night,” she said. “Areyouan animal, Your Grace?”
He pulled her hard against his body, and her stomach churned as his manhood pressed against her thigh.
“A feisty mare, aren’t you, beneath that cold haughtiness,” he said. “But women are all the same—inside you’re all whores, begging for a man’s cock.”
“Stop!” she cried. “Or I’ll scream.”
“Who would hear you?”
“If you defile me, I’llnevermarry you—ruined or not.”
He hesitated, anger and lust flashing in his eyes. Then he loosened his grip.
She pulled herself free and shifted away from him.
“Forgive me, my dear,” he said. “I was quite overcome by the violence of my affections. Your aunt will testify to the fact that I’ve thought of nothing but you from the moment you were lost.”
“Aunt Kathleen?”
“She’s been most anxious for your return.” He raked his gaze over her form, then the sneer returned. “Perhaps it’s best if I leave you in peace for the time being,” he said. “I daresay you’re riddled with lice, having lived in that hovel.”
“Yes,” she said, forcing her voice to remain calm. “I daresay I am. I’m anxious to take a bath, and”—she plucked at her skirts of the gown Sophie had given her, which she’d trimmed with pink ribbon, and smiled, ignoring the pain in her heart—“and to have this garment burned.”
“Quite so,” he said. “But once you’ve been restored to your true self”—he licked his lips—“thenyou shall be mine.”
The urge to flee swelled within her. But where would she go? Back to the man who’d destroyed her faith and broken herheart? Or forward, to the world into which she was born—a world of duty, honor, and security?
What did she care if there was no place in that world for her heart?
Chapter Forty-Two
“Children, it’s timeto come inside.”
The whispering from the den grew silent. Then William spoke.
“Read the sign.”
Lawrence lowered his gaze to the lettering on the piece of paper pinned to the rosebush marking the den’s entrance, scrawled in Roberta’s hand.
Keep out. On pain of death.
“Supper’s ready,” he said. “You can’t stay outside all night.”
“We’re not hungry!” Roberta cried.
“Iam,” Jonathan whispered, and Lawrence caught sight of movement among the bushes.
“Traitor!” Roberta said. “Get back here.”
“I’m no traitor,” Jonathan whined. “I’m—Ouch!”
