“Until I’d made a fool of myself?” Della interrupted. “Until I’d told you all about my past and that I love you?”

He closed his eyes as though in pain. Welcome to the club, Lord Autocratic.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last. He sounded sincere.

“So am I.”

Della spun on her heel and strode out the door, her sisters gathering in a phalanx behind her as she went.

“Goddamn it.” Griffith watched as Della walked away from him, her back rigid, her sisters falling into formation behind her in their own battalion of furious feminine anger.

“My daughter is very impetuous.” Della’s mother had arrived at his side, and it took everything not to bark at her to go away. Not only would it be rude, which Griffith couldn’t care less about, but it would be useless. Della was angry with him.

You only wanted to help.

But you know how she feels about anyone making decisions for her.

Why hadn’t he thought about what she would want? Because he’d seen the opportunity to ride in on his financial white horse, paying Baxter enough to go away, and thinking she would never find out.

What kind of idiot was he?

The best kind, a voice in his head replied.

But you just wanted to do what would help, another voice added.

True, yes, but he hadn’t considered beyond the help—not how she would feel about the help, nor the way it was tendered.

He’d just considered himself.

And now he was here by himself. No, wait—it was even worse. Her mother was here, still giving him an interrogative look, as though she was waiting for a reply. What had she said? That Della was impetuous?

“Your Grace, if you will forgive the disagreement, I don’t believe Lady Della is impetuous. I believe she knows her own mind. Thoroughly.” He didn’t wait for her response, but just bowed and walked out of the ballroom, vowing to do whatever he had to in order to make it right.

Even if she regretted telling him she loved him.

“Are you going to tell us now?” Olivia demanded.

All five of the sisters were crammed into a hackney cab, Della not wanting to wait for anyone’s private carriage. She had told them, pointedly, that they could just go home and not bother about her, but none of them had listened to her.

Which was why she was currently smushed between Eleanor and Olivia, with Pearl and Ida on the seat opposite. All four of them keeping their eyes on her, as though she might explode or something.

Which was a possibility.

“You are going to have to tell us sooner or later,” Ida pointed out. Pearl nodded in agreement.

“Why were you all there anyway?” Della asked, glancing at her sisters. “I’ve barely seen you, Pearl, and I thought you were busy being a new bride, Ida.”