Page 4 of Between a Duke and a Hard Place
“Too late.”
She glared at him. “You are insufferable.”
“I am aware.”
“You will use this against me at every possible opportunity.”
“Oh, without a doubt,” he said cheerfully.
She inhaled sharply, thoroughly regretting this entire conversation. Then, before she changed her mind, she turned on her heel and strode for the door.
Behind her, Max called, “Shall I expect you for tea tomorrow, or will you be suffering my presence in some other way?”
She slammed the door behind her in response.
Chapter Two
Wellston Hall, Late Evening
Violet had encountered many unpleasant things in her lifetime—ill-mannered gentlemen, dull-witted ladies, and the absolute horror that was lukewarm tea. But this—suffering the presence of Ethella and Nigel, alone, without support—was simply too much.
And that was why, when she heard the whispered voices, she’d pressed against the cold stone of the upstairs corridor. She didn’t want another confrontation with them. But with every word she heard, her panic grew. It was so much worse than she’d initially imagined.
Her chest tight with the breath she held, Violet strained to catch every vile, treacherous word floating through the sitting room doors left carelessly ajar.
“…she will have no choice,” came Ethella’s smooth, calculating voice.
Nigel grunted, clearly less confident than his mother. “You vastly underestimate how difficult Violet can be.”
“Well,” Ethella sighed impatiently, as if this were the most tedious of obstacles, “if she weren’t so difficult this would not be necessary.”
Oh, do forgive me, dear Aunt Ethella, for not rolling over to be sold like a broodmare to the first ancient reprobate willing to pay my ransom.
Violet’s hands curled into tight, trembling fists.
“She is a woman,” Ethella continued, pouring herself a drink as if arranging a kidnapping were no more pressing than organizing an afternoon tea. “And women can be persuaded, Nigel. You need only press hard enough.”
Nigel exhaled, uneasy. “You make it sound… unpleasant.”
Ethella laughed lightly, the sound utterly devoid of warmth. “My dear, you are so naive.”
Yes, Nigel. A man arranging to force a woman into marriage to settle his debts is, in fact, unpleasant. Violet fought the urge to storm into the room and hurl something heavy at his head.
“And what if she refuses outright?” Nigel demanded.
There was a pause, then the deliberate clink of glass on wood. “She will not.”
The utter certainty in Ethella’s voice sent a chill through Violet’s veins.
“She will,” Nigel argued, though his tone lacked conviction. “She loathes Eddington.”
“As do most women with working senses,” Ethella admitted. “But Lord Eddington is a practical man. If Violet does not consent willingly, he will have other means of ensuring their union.”
Violet’s stomach turned violently.
Nigel made a noise of discomfort, but it was not outrage. It was cowardice.
“You mean to say he would…”
