Page 18 of A Bride for the Forbidden Duke
“I am only getting some air. I am in perfect sight of anyone.”
But as Lord Barwicke advanced, Veronica had no choice but to back up, away from him, and she realized that she was getting further and further away from the ballroom.
“Come back to the ball, Veronica.”
Her name on his tongue made her want to gag. Howdarehe speak so calmly to her when he was—when he wasforcingher mother behind closed doors?
“You,” she spat, halting. She yanked off her dance card and threw it into the grass, needing to throw or hitsomething,lest it be him. “You are a deceitful,lyingcoward!”
Lord Barwicke’s eyes flitted about them, checking for anybody watching. Nobody was. And Veronica was horrified to realize how far he had cornered her away from anybody, yet she still checked the shadows.
“I saw you, Lord Barwicke! I saw you sneaking out of our house, and I knowexactlywhat you are forcing my mother to do. Have you no honor? No shame? You are a coward, My Lord, and I wish you nothing but pain for the remainder of your lonely, miserable life.”
She seethed, staring back at him. But Lord Barwicke only approached her, his hair thinning, and his mouth a sneer. Hisnose, bulbous and red-tinged, as if he had drunk too much in his earlier years, sniffed, and lifted, so he looked down at her.
“Your silly little words mean nothing to me, dear Veronica,” he said, his voice a drawl. More a slur than anything. “Well, notnothing. I must admit your feistiness makes you rather appealing. Much more so than your babbling, dithering mother. Perhapswecould have a much more interesting time behind closed doors.”
His eyes searched her, lingering on the neckline of her dress.
Veronica wished for her cloak that had been taken at the start of the ball, for now Lord Barwicke looked at her as though he could see through every layer.
“I have found that your mother’s corset strings unlace quite easily when I mention raising her allowance for the month,” Lord Barwicke sneered. “Tell me, do yours as well?”
At the implication, Veronica’s eyes widened as she stumbled several paces away from him.
“Come on, Veronica. Perhaps it should beyoupaying me back instead of that old hag.”
“Stay back!” she cried. “Stay back, or Ishallscream!”
Lord Barwicke only laughed. “If you scream, it is only you who shall be ruined. Look at you, Veronica. Dear me, out on your ownwith an unmarried man. It isyoulooking for a husband since the young Lord Grantham has abandoned you. Do you think anyone would want a ruined bride? In fact,doscream. For I shall be there to pick up the ruined pieces of you reputation when thetoncomes running to fuel the gossip they lovesomuch.”
“You… You are so cruel,” Veronica whispered, shaking her head.
And he was right. She would be ruined. If anyone saw them, her situation would only worsen. Nobody had wanted to dance with her as it was. This… this would make things all that much worse. She would be completely ruined, and her mama would be forced to keep doing Lord Barwicke’s disgusting bidding.
Veronica inhaled sharply.
And then she bolted, turning away from the Fernwell estate and running into the shadows towards the entrance from the garden.
Her shoes scuffed on the paving stones that ran around the outside of the home, but she did not get far before a body slammed into hers, and the odor of sweat and wine grew nauseatingly too close.
Lord Barwicke pressed her against one of the house’s columns that upheld a balcony on the higher floor, and he kept her pinned.
Veronica’s breath shortened as she panicked, fighting against him.
His face was inches from hers, spittle flying from his lips as he hissed, “I shall add a bonus to your monthly allowance if you shall grant me a taste.”
Chapter Seven
“N—No,” she begged. “No, Lord Barwicke?—”
She exhaled sharply, frightened, and batted her fists against him. But he grabbed her wrists and pinned them painfully around the column’s width. She cried out, struggling.
Lord Barwicke’s face was close to hers—too close, close enough that she could smell the cigars and sour wine on his breath. Her stomach turned just as he used his own body to keep her pinned while his hand traveled down to her dress’s hemline, a cruel glint to his eyes.
“Your mother begged for me to touch her,” he sneered. “Perhaps for her, it had been too long since a man deemed her worthy of being touched. How shall you fare, I wonder, Veronica?”
His hand was inches away from slipping up her dress, and Veronica gasped through her panic, still struggling.
