She refused to be treated like this.

She abruptly marched to her father’s study. She did not pause at the closed door, oh no—she shoved it open with all her might and strode through the door.

“Margot, for heaven’s sake!” her father snapped, startled by her entrance.

“Where is my husband, Pappa?” she demanded. “Why did he leave Norwood Park, and why hasn’t he come back?”

Her father’s face darkened. “You will not speak to me in that manner—”

“Tell me where he is!” she said sharply.

Her father’s expression turned stormy. “I’ll tell you where he is—in chains, as well he ought to be.”

For a sliver of a moment, Margot was certain she misheard. But the look of raw detachment on her father’s face slapped her awake to the truth. She grabbed the back of a chair, the news a physical blow to her. “Wh-what have you done, Pappa?” she stammered, her voice shaking. “We came to you for help. We came to tell you that Thomas Dunn—”

“I know all about Thomas Dunn!” he snapped. “Foolish girl! You thought I would help you? Thomas Dunn is a drowning man. Don’t you know what to do with a drowning man? Kick him away so that he doesn’t drag you beneath the surface with him.”

Margot gasped. It was impossible to comprehend that the man saying such a vile thing was her father. “So you allow him to drag Arran down with him?” she asked, incredulous. “When the two of you, together, could bring a traitor to justice?”

Her father snorted and flicked his wrist at her. “Thomas Dunn is a nobleman and has favor with the queen. Do you think anyone in England will believe a backwater Scotsman over him? He may say what he likes of Arran Mackenzie precisely because he’s made sure that no one will stand up for him.”

“But we can stand for him!” she cried. “You, Pappa!”

He snorted.

“He is my husband,” she said, her voice shaking with fury.

“In name only.”

“No! He is my husband, Pappa!”

“What, have you suddenly developed tender feelings for him, Margot?” her father snarled. “You? You have despised him from the moment I told you what your duty must be. You fled him. You wailed like a child when I told you that you must go back to Scotland for the good of your family. And now you would have us believe he is your dear husband?” He snorted disdainfully. “You did what I needed you to do. Now go and host a ball or a soiree. Gamble if you like. Go to London, order gowns for the Season—I don’t care what you do. But leave me be—I’m tired.”