“No one does! He’s never been seen before in England. There are reports he’s not even legitimate. Why else would the Earl of Allendale have kept him away so long?”

She looked at Fred in disgust. “Is that the rumor your spreading now? I knew you were spiteful, but this is the absolute limit. To accuse someone of—”

“Not me. It’s in the papers where anyone can read it.” Fred leaned toward her. “And I won’t be called spiteful, not when I’m only endeavoring to protect you.”

“To protect me from St. Clare, you mean.”

“And others of his ilk. So long as you’re in town, you’re fair game to them. A lady past her prime, who makes a show of herself at the theater and in Hyde Park—”

“Past my prime!”

“You’re obviously not angling for a husband. The whole of society knows you’re meant to marry me. It’s what your father wanted.”

“My father never understood the first thing about you.” Maggie moved to rise.

Fred anticipated her, catching her by the arm in a harsh grip. He hauled her up in front of him, far too close for her comfort.

An unaccountable jolt of fear went through her. Despite his bluster, Fred had never resorted to brute force. Not where she was concerned. “Let go of me,” she said.

“You will listen to what I have to say.” His grasp tightened, as if he could force her to obey him by a show of physical strength. “Go home, Margaret. You’ve had a fortnight’s holiday. Let it be enough. Go home,” he said again. “Ready yourself for our wedding.”

“I never said I’d marry you.”

“We both know that you will. You’ll do anything to keep Beasley Park.” A peculiar light shone in his eyes. “Can you not find it in yourself to love me a little? I’m not the ogre you make me out. All I require is that you—”

“I said let go of me.” She wrenched free from his grasp. “Do you think anything in the world could ever induce me to love you after what you did to Nicholas Seaton?”

Fred froze where he stood. It was as if the name had turned him to stone. A name Maggie hadn’t uttered in nearly ten years. “What did you say?” he asked in a dangerous whisper.

She took a step back from him. Her heart beat swift as a hare caught in the sights of a hunting hound. “I believe you heard me.”

Fred advanced on her. “That boy—that bastard—was a thief and a liar. He stole your jewelry—”

“Spare me that old story, if you please. I’m not as gullible as my Aunt Daphne.” She glared at him. “I see you for exactly what you are.”