“I’m here to see what you want. And to ensure you don’t get it,” she replied flatly. “I won’t allow you to blackmail anybody on my behalf. I came to tell you I don’t care what you say to anybody. You have no right to ask for anything after what you did.”

His expression got mean, and she reminded herself he had no hold over her. Not any longer. Not ever, in fact.

It had been she who had delayed their marriage. She’d known almost as soon as she’d eloped with him that he wasn’t who she wished to be with, so although he’d asked, she’d prevaricated so as not to commit. Not until she was certain.

And then she was certain—certain she didn’t want to be with him.

“So if I announce I am in town and that you refuse to let me see my daughter?”

She moved so she was mere inches from his face. He stepped back, an apprehensive expression on his face. “You gave up any right to being Nora’s father when you left us. You will not dare to stir up any kind of trouble.” She dug in her pocket, withdrawing the bills she’d placed there before leaving the house. “You can have this. It is all you will ever get from me or anybody related to me.”

He stared at the bills, his lip curling.

“Take it or don’t take it, I don’t care. As long as you leave London and never try to see us again.”

He snatched the bills from her hand. “And if I go see your father? He’ll say the same?”

“If you do, I will tell everyone our story. Do you understand? I don’t care. I don’t want you interfering in my family, in my life, any longer. My parents might be ashamed of what happened, and wish to shield their own reputation, but I don’t care. I’ll burn it all to the ground if you do anything besides leaving London.”

His face grew pale, and she could see when he’d realized it was useless to argue with her. That she was going to do what she said, no matter what anybody else tried to do.

“Fine,” he spat out.

She nodded at him, then turned on her heel and left the room, allowing a smirk of satisfaction to curl her mouth when she heard the door slam behind her.

Now she could get on with her life.

“She’s here,” Clark said as he opened the door to Griffith’s bedroom.

And she was, because she was behind Clark, pushing the door open and striding in as though she belonged there.

At least that was what he was hoping—that she would belong with him.