“You won’t free yourself. You might as well save your energy.”

To her astonishment, he went still and glared at her. He said something but she couldn’t make out the words through the cloth. She scooted back until she felt the wall behind her. “I have no interest in hearing your lies.”

Then she waited for what seemed like an eternity for Matthew to return. When she heard him calling for her on the other side of the door, she’d never known such joy. Nor had she ever seen him so authoritative as he ordered the constables about. They were deferential toward him, seeming to want to ensure they worked to his satisfaction. The first night she’d had the impression he was accustomed to being in command. But now here was clearer evidence that he was a man not only willing to take charge, but comfortable doing so.

Dibble protested the entire time as the constables replaced her meager bindings with iron manacles and chains around his wrists and ankles. None too gently, they hauled him out. When they were gone, Matthew looked back at her. “You’re trembling.”

“I’m just cold.”

He closed the door, bolted it, strode over to her, and wrapped his arms securely around her. “It’s all right, sweetheart. It’s all right. You’re all right. Let’s get you up to your rooms.”

“I have his chin.”

Matthew went still for a heartbeat before tucking his finger beneath said chin and tilting her face back so he could gaze in her eyes. “Your chin is far more lovely, far cuter than his.”

“Why would he come here and say what he did? Why would he claim to be my father if he’s not?”

“Perhaps he’s a swindler. What did he want?”

“Money. Money not to show up at a ball and tell people he sired me.”

“Your family has been making a name for itself with their success and their marriages into the nobility. From time to time they make the gossip sheets. A couple of years back there was that article in the Times about your brother’s hotel. A family of by-blows. The man was playing the odds that you might not know who your father was.”

“I think he might have been telling the truth.”

“Will you tell your mother about him, ask her?”

She nodded. “I’d planned to see her in the morning, to tell her about the ball. Mick’s carriage will be readied for me.”

“Shall I go with you?”

His kindness was her undoing as tears threatened. “No, it’ll be best if I see her on my own. But I appreciate the offer.”

With a nod, he dipped down and lifted her into his arms.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to carry you upstairs.”

“I can walk.”

“I know, but if I’m holding you, I can start warming you.”