Bryce smirked as he let go of her arm. “Do you want to marry again? Of your own choosing? I suggest you do as we tell you.”

What fragments were left of her heart disintegrated. What had happened to her family? When had they become these men? Had she been so caught up in her own society that she hadn’t seen them for the evil men they were? Or had something happened to turn them to curs?

Still, as shocked and sickened as Margot was, she instinctively knew that she had to pretend to accept what he was saying. “Fine,” she said curtly, and flounced away from him, running when she turned the corner, fleeing to the privacy of a suite where she could wail and cower and scream into a pillow.

Margot did precisely that. Every emotion that had built in her in the last twenty-four hours came crashing out of her on a tidal wave of enormous frustration. But when the screams were done, she knew what she had to do. She didn’t know what had happened to her family, couldn’t begin to guess when everything had gone so wrong. But there was one man on this earth whom she needed above all others, and that was Arran Mackenzie.

And to reach him, she needed Knox. God help her if Knox was against her, too.

Chapter Twenty-One

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

ANOTHER NIGHT TORTURED with dreams and the dull ache of hunger woke Margot well before dawn. She dressed in a drab day gown of brown muslin and sat in a chair facing the window, waiting for the sun to come up.

She tried not to despair, but it was increasingly difficult. Her thoughts wandered through her memories of Arran. Of the way he had looked on their wedding day, so tall and handsome and pleased. Of the way he’d held her the first night they’d lain together as man and wife, as if she might break in two. Of the things he would say that made her laugh. Of the letters he’d written her and the night he’d told her he had loved her since the moment he saw her.

She reread the letter. “The beginning of my world and the end of it...”

His end.

She calmly folded the vellum. It was grimy and worn now, the vellum as limp as cotton. She put it in her pocket. She’d been his burden for too long. No more.

When the sun peeked out over the treetops, Margot went down to the dining room, pausing just outside the door to arrange a smile on her face. When she was hopeful she had it, she entered the room.

Her father was seated at the table, buttering his toast. “Good morning,” she said brightly. But she did not kiss him. She went directly to the sideboard.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice full of question. “What has roused you at such an early hour?”