The thought of a private audience with the duke made her palms clammy and her heart jump into her throat. Hopefully he wasn’t already disrobing for his bath. She must move swiftly, for she could never confront a half-robed Westbury. He must be fully clothed. And she must keep her wits about her and be on guard against any uncharacteristic clumsiness or emotional outbursts occasioned by his proximity.

She had no idea how she would accomplish it, but she must make the duke see the error of his ways.

Chapter Four

West stood in front of his father’s colossal oak desk and dared himself to falter, to tremble, to feel any of the helplessness that used to overwhelm him in this room. In every house they’d lived in, whether in London or the countryside, the study had always been the same.

A place where he was made to feel small. Made to feel sinful.

He visited the study to remind himself of who he’d been and who he was now. Why he was this way.

He’d been small and defenseless. Just a boy who’d been eager to please, who would have done anything for a kind word, a smile. Instead: a sneer and a malediction.

You’re wicked and shameful. Stop that quaking. I tell you this for your betterment, so that you may seek to correct your course, to stamp out the taint of sin.

He’d loved his father. Right up until that love had transformed into a hatred so intense that he still felt it blazing in his blood, years after the old man was dead and buried.

His father had been right about one thing: life was no bed of roses. And neither was marriage.

Miss Beaton had stars in her eyes and romantic notions buzzing in her mind like a swarm of bees. She’d attacked him as though he were a monster who cared nothing for his sisters’ happiness when he was doing this to ensure they had the respect of society and a comfortable and financially secure future.

They hadn’t taken the news very well.

Blanche was distraught, Bernadette rebellious, and Belinda appalled. Only Betsy had reacted sensibly. Blanche fancied herself to be in love with Laxton because she didn’t really know him. He was one of those silver-tongued dandies who flattered a girl to her face and then slandered her in private.

Blanche must never find out about the malicious rumors that Laxton had been spreading about her. When news of West’s engagement and Blanche’s multiple offers rippled through the ton, no one would pay any heed to Laxton, or his lies.

West intended to deal with him personally. Find a foolproof way to make certain he wouldn’t spread more untruths about the girls. He’d try Rafe’s subtle and devious methods of retribution first, but if those didn’t work he’d do things his way. With his fists.