Page 18 of Harpy of the Ton
“First you destroy my possessions, then you assault me. I shan’t leave here until I have satisfaction.”
“You’llneverhave satisfaction from me, you, you…peasant!” she cried. “I could have you hanged!”
“Don’t be a fool, woman.”
“Fool, am I?” She lifted her head and screamed. “Help me!” she cried. “For God’s sake, help me! Save me from him!”
“Stop that!” he said. “I’ll not harm you—it was you that begged me.”
“I did nothing of the sort,” she said. “You—you’re a debaucher of women, a violator of maidens.”
“I’ve violated no one.”
“Who do you think they’d believe?” She spoke more calmly now, the coldness returning to her tone. “A stranger, a nobody? Or the future Duchess of Dunton?”
She lifted her head once more and cried out, filling her voice with terror.
“Help me, someone! He’s after me—please!”
Lawrence’s heart sank as he heard footsteps.
“Where are you, miss?” a voice cried.
“The stables!” she replied. “Be quick! I’m so frightened!”
Then she turned to face him, a cold smile on her lips. “What say you, youuncouth peasant?” she sneered. “Care to pit your word against mine? Leave, now, and you can save your thick neck.”
She’d bested him—curse her—and she knew it.
But he’d be damned if he let her see her victory come to completion. Mirroring her cold smile, he stepped toward her, tempering the flare of guilt as the fear returned to her eyes.
“I’ll go,” he said, “but I curse you for the harm you’ve done me. We mayn’t live in a fair world, but I pray, one day, you will reap the rewards of the choices you made today.”
She stepped back. “Choices—what choices?”
“Do you think your fiancé will relish hearing about your supposed violation?” he asked. “He’ll view you as sullied goods and punish you for it.”
“H-he’ll punishyou—not me.”
“You sound unsure of yourself, madam,” he said. “We live in a man’s world. You might exert your power over me by virtue of our difference in rank, but never forget the power your betrothed can exert over you by virtue of your difference in sex.”
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“I mean, madam, that you will never own me. But your fiancé—from the moment you submit to him at the altar—will own every part of you,until death do you part.”
Her fear thickened the air, but Lawrence was beyond reason.
“Do you know what, Lady Arabella?” he said, smiling coldly.
“Wh-what?” she whimpered.
“I wish you joy of him. So, tell the footman what you wish—tell and bedamned, Lady Arabella.”
She glanced about as if she feared Dunton’s arrival. Then the footman came into view, running toward them.
“Your ladyship!” he panted. “Are you in danger?”
She glanced at Lawrence, moisture shining in her eyes, and his resolve almost melted as a tear splashed onto her cheek.
