forcefully. “Think of your father. Would
you have him reduced to squalor
because of your pride?”
She jumped to her feet. “You go too
far, sir!” She skirted by him and made a
hasty retreat toward the doorway. He
followed suit, grabbing her forearm, his
fingernails sinking through the thin fabric
of her sleeve, making her realize just
how poorly he compared to Thomas and
even Guffald.
“You have not given me your
answer,” he spat.
“Haven’t
I,
sir?
Perhaps
a
physician should check your hearing.”
He took a menacing step forward,
his eyes narrowed into slits. “You will
regret — ”
“Regret what, Burton?” her father
asked, coming to her side.
“ — not taking advantage of this
glorious day,” he slyly finished,
snatching back his hand. “I was seeking
to tempt Lady Constance with a carriage
ride.”
“Oh, you must go for a ride in Hyde
Park,” her father insisted, leaning
toward her. “Fresh air would do you
some good.”
Sensing
her
father’s
tactic,
Constance was bound and determined
not to comply. “Sadly, I feel slightly
under the weather and must decline.”
Which wasn’t completely a lie.
Her father spared her a grimace and
then focused his good humor on Burton.
“How have you and my daughter been
getting on?”
Burton
instantly
regained
his
composure and stepped toward her
father with an outstretched hand.
“Famously,” he said. “You have a
wonderful daughter, Your Grace. But, of
course,” he said winking, “you are
already aware of my affections.”
Constance willed her father to tread
softly. “Indeed, I am,” he said, strolling
past them to the fireplace. “My
daughter’s welfare is utmost in my
thoughts.”
“And a fine woman she has
become. You are to be commended,
Your Grace.”
The banter between her father and
Burton nauseated her. She scrutinized
her father’s face as he turned toward the
hearth, frightened he would buy into the
bastard’s compliments. His shoulders
appeared rigidly set. He was tense,
apparently not as much at ease as he
would have Burton believe. Did she
dare hope?
“Then we are of the same mind,”
her father agreed.
Oh no! Couldn’t he see through
Burton’s theatrical veil?
“Constance, are you unwell?” Her
father’s voice sounded far away. The
world spun. She lost her bearings.
“Quickly, Burton! Fetch my daughter a
drink.”
A drink was forced into her hand.
She sipped mindlessly, revived by the
soothing liquid as it slid down her throat
and burned a path into her stomach. Her
father stood before her, Burton smirking
at his side. She could have sworn he
found her swoon amusing or had the light
played tricks on her? Unsettled, she
made her excuses and begged their
leave. To say she felt ill was no lie. Her
head ached, perhaps from worry,
possibly because she hadn’t eaten much
in the past few days. With as much
dignity as she could muster, she left the
parlor only to be stopped in her tracks
outside the door by three ominous
words.
“Remember our deal.” Burton’s
voice cut her in two. Her heart pounded.
What had her father done?
“I’ve not forgotten. Rest assured
that on the night of the ball, your
engagement to Constance will be
announced as planned.”
She placed a hand over her mouth
and bit her fist to keep from screaming.
Burton was a violent man. Her father
knew he was untrustworthy. Was her
father’s fear of ruin stronger than finding
her a more suitable husband? She’d
nearly died trying to find a way to
resolve his problems. How could he
betray her like this?
“Constance may prove difficult,”
Burton slurred.
“I will handle Constance. Do not
forget she is my daughter. Danburys do
as they’re told.”
“See to it she does. I’d hate to see
your family sink into squalor.”
Footsteps approached, cutting off
her ability to eavesdrop. Placing her
hand on her stomach, she swallowed the
queasy lump rising in her throat and
quickly made her way up the stairs. It
was up to her to do something, anything,
and fast. The ball was but weeks away.
At the top of the staircase, she
walked across the landing and entered
her room. Quietly shutting the door once
she was inside, she rushed over to her
necessary and picked up a feathered
quill to begin scripting a missive to her
uncle. He was her one and only hope.
Uncle,
I have just heard father
plans
to
announce
my
engagement to Burton at the
ball held in two weeks’ time.
While I cannot express how
sensitive this matter is to me,
or heal the rift this situation
has caused between you and
my father, I implore you to
help me resolve this matter. I
cannot, and will not, be
forced to marry such a man.
Should I not find another
alternative, I fear you shall
never see me again.
Your beloved niece,
Constance
Uncle Simon had connections and
having never married, he loved her as if
she were his own child. Surely, as he
had before, he would set things to rights.
If not, she was determined to run away
again. Except this time, she’d tell no one
where she was bound.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
Something was amiss. The stomach-
turning experience during Burton’s visit
had not lessoned. Day by day, Constance
felt more fatigued and unsettled, which
she attributed to nerves as the deadline
of the ball approached. Unless her uncle
could produce a miracle, her life would
be forever attached to a man she reviled
and feared.
Mrs. Mortimer, having returned
from a brief visit with family, had taken
an added interest in her condition,
stating only that they’d know more as
time passed. If Morty’s fears were well-
substantiated, Constance was carrying a
child, Thomas’s child. And if that were
true, it would be even more important to
shield that child from Burton’s wrath,
which meant running away, shirking her
duty to her father, leaving with nothing
more than the child to comfort her. But
how could that ever be enough to sustain
them?
Constance laid her hand on her
stomach. Thomas. She’d dreamt of him
unceasingly since returning home, but
had
received
no
word
of
his
whereabouts.
Though
she’d
never
expected him to contact her, she longed
to see him again and fantasized that he
would rescue her from her horrid
circumstances. At least, with Thomas,
she knew what she was getting, a rogue
with a gentleman’s touch, one who
would only strike when attacked. With
Burton, she couldn’t be sure — and
that’s what scared her the most.
Leaning
back
in
her
chair,
Constance sighed. The truth of her
circumstances would soon become
apparent. In the meantime, she hoped her
father would find the strength to ignore
his quest to find her a suitable husband
or, at best, direct his aim at someone
other than Burton. With their financial
situation still unresolved, however, it
was doubtful her father would desert his
scheme to connect their family to the
gentleman. In fact, she thought it would
only serve to fill him with fervent
purpose to see the deed done. If it was
absolutely necessary for her to marry for
money and to keep a scandalous
pregnancy concealed, who would be her
likely pawn?
Embroidering a rose petal into a
delicately designed piece of linen to
occupy her time, Constance jumped
when a knock sounded on her door and
Cooper addressed her from the doorway
of her receiving room.
“Yes,” she said.
“You have a visitor, my Lady.”
She
narrowed
her
eyes
suspiciously. “Who?”
Cooper’s eyes scanned the sparsely
furnished room, dedicated to her
mother’s memory, and then raised a
conspiratorial brow. “Lord Danbury,”
he answered.
“Uncle Simon, here?” She gasped,
jumping up from her seat.
“He’s waiting for you in the
parlor.” Cooper was loyal to her father,
but he’d been a great father figure to her
during her lifetime.
“Tell him I’ll be right down.”
She glanced at her appearance in
the mirror and squeezed her cheeks to
give them a little more color, hoping to
conceal the uncommon pallor nausea had
given her of late. She’d chosen a demure
dress of celestial blue, adorned with
lace above the rounded collar to conceal
her developing bosom. Her hair had
been arranged in a braided bun with
several ringlets framing her face. No
matter the style, there was no helping the
fact that she looked a little thinner than
normal.
Descending the stairs, passing
gilded-framed family portraits which
seemed to glare accusingly, she entered
the parlor with expectant hope fluttering
in her heart. She had only one ally.
Simon. Had he come to help her at last?
He stood near the window.
“Uncle, I’m so glad you’ve come!”
she exclaimed.
He turned at the sound of her voice
and his joyous expression quickly
transformed to a worried frown. “I came
as soon as I could arrange it,” he said,
gazing upon her. “What has happened to
you, my dear? You seem rather … well,
for lack of a better word … thin.”
She began in earnest, “Uncle, so
much has happened since I’ve seen you
last. I’m at a loss as to where to begin.”
He moved closer, taking her hands
within his and led her to the sofa. “Start
from the beginning. Tell me everything.
Lord knows your father has been as
silent as the grave.”
“I fear nothing anyone can do will
make Papa see reason. He barely speaks
to me.”
“Your father has much on his mind
and blames me for his dilemma. We
cannot possibly understand the lengths to
which he will go in order to repair the
damage he thinks I’ve done to our
family.”
“Uncle Simon, I know that you
would never do anything to malign the
family. You love Papa and me. That is
plain and,” she choked back a sob,
suddenly overcome with emotion, “I
appeal to that love now.”
His eyes softened. He lifted her
chin. “You have my love and you always
shall. What is it, child? What has
dampened your spirits? I confess, I was
livid after reading your letter.”
She squeezed his hands. “Papa has
made a deal with Burton. Though I
revealed my loathing for the man, he
plans to force me to marry him.”
Simon lifted her chin again. “You
are certain of your aversion? You aren’t
holding a grudge against the man simply
because you don’t want to marry an
older man?”
She shook her head. “I’m not being
silly. I fear his intentions aren’t
honorable.”
He glanced down at her bosom and
frowned. For a moment, she wondered if
he knew exactly what Burton had done
or simply noted the difference in her
décolleté.
“Then,” he began, breaking her
doubt, “we must find a way to convince
your father otherwise.”
“There’s
more,
Uncle,”
she
whispered, unable to control her shame.