“What is going on?” She hurried back to the bed, immediately going to the bindings on one of his ankles. “Why did he tie you to the bed? Why would you come here to see him?”

“When my father issues a summons,” Hugh said in a tight voice, “I do not ignore it.”

“But you—”

“Especially on the eve of your cousin’s wedding.”

Her eyes flared with understanding. “Of course.”

“As for the bindings,” Hugh added in a voice full of loathing, “they were for your benefit.”

“What?” she asked, mouth agape. Then: “Oh, drat, ouch!” She stuck her index finger in her mouth. “Bent back my nail,” she grumbled. “These knots are monsters. How did he get them so tight?”

“I was not able to struggle,” Hugh said, unable to keep the self-loathing from his voice.

Her eyes flew to his face.

But he turned away, unable to look at her when he said, “He did it while I was unconscious.”

Her lips formed a whisper, but whether she made actual words or mere sound, he did not know.

“Oil of sweet vitriol,” he said in a flat voice.

She shook her head. “I don’t know . . .”

“Soaked into a cloth and pressed against a face, it can render a person unconscious,” Hugh explained. “I’ve read about it, but this is the first time I’ve had the pleasure.”

Her head shook; he didn’t think she was even aware of the movement. “But why would he do such a thing?”

It would have been a sensible question had they been talking about anyone other than Hugh’s father. Hugh closed his eyes for a moment, utterly mortified by what he was forced to say. “My father believes that if we are locked in the room together, you will be compromised.”

She didn’t say a word.

“And thus forced to marry me,” Hugh added, not that he thought this had been unclear.

She froze, her eyes never leaving the knot she’d been so diligently trying to release. Hugh felt something heavy and dark settle around his heart.

“I’m not sure why,” she finally said. Her voice was slow, and very careful, as if she was worried that the wrong word might set off an avalanche of distasteful events.

Hugh had no idea how to respond to that. They both knew the rules that bound their society. They would be discovered together, in a room with a bed, and Sarah would be presented with two choices: marriage or ruin. And despite everything she had learned about him that morning, Hugh had to think that of the two, he was still the better choice.

“It’s not as if you could compromise me while you’re tied to a bed,” she said, still not looking at him.