Page 47 of The Iron Duke's Flaming Christmas
You must forget her. You can never marry her—and you cannot keep her as your mistress. You must quash this feeling now, before it grows any stronger. Before it is too late.
Sighing heavily, he turned away from the window, sitting down at his desk. Perhaps work would distract him. He frowned. There was a letter propped against the inkwell, which he hadn’t noticed. He leaned forward, opening it quickly, scanning it.
He stiffened. The letter was addressed to Selene from her father—the butler must have mixed up the mail and given it to him, instead of her. He was just about to close it, when he stopped, his eyes fixed on what the man was saying to his daughter.
He could barely breathe. There were several lines crossed out in it, as if the author of the letter hadn’t thoroughly thought through what he was going to say prior to sitting down to write it, so it was difficult to read, but the writer’s message was still loud and clear.
He was in financial difficulty and asking his daughter for help. The next section outlined, in chilling detail, was about how she might do it—and that this idea had been discussed before.
Further to our discussion, dear daughter, I fear we must forge ahead with the plan to extract the money that I need from the duke. You told me that His Grace has tender feelings toward you and admires you greatly. We can use this to our advantage.
If you tell him that you will reveal his feelings for you to the greater community, he will give you as much as we desire, as he will not wish for them to be revealed, being such a cold, taciturn gentleman, with a reputation to uphold…
Ian swore, tossing the letter onto the ground, his heart slamming in his chest. And then with one foul swoop, he reached out an arm, clearing everything from the desk. Papers scattered, ink spilt, and there was a sharp crash as books and ledgers fell onto the floor.
His stood up, his breath coming thick and fast, barely able to breathe. The rage was so great he felt as though it was strangling him. He swore, staring numbly into the fire, not even seeing the flames flickering and hissing in the grate.
I was starting to believe that I was actually falling in love with her, and she is nothing more than a calculating fortune hunter, intending to blackmail me.
He swore again, walking quickly to the letter on the floor, picking it up. He wanted to screw it up and toss it onto the fire, but he stopped. Quickly, he rang the bell, folding the letter as he waited for the butler.
The butler entered the room, looking slightly startled by the mess strewn on the floor, but he didn’t say anything. Ian handed him the letter.
“This belongs to Miss Bomind,” he rapped. “You delivered it to the wrong person, Parker. Make sure she gets it. And be more mindful next time.”
The butler frowned. “But…” He stopped, inhaling deeply, his eyes flickering nervously as he gazed into Ian’s thunderous face. “Of course, Your Grace. I do apologize. I will deliver it at once.”
Ian nodded. The butler turned to leave the room.
“Oh, and Parker,” growled Ian, “send a maid to clean up this mess.”
The butler nodded, leaving the room.
Ian walked to the window, gazing out again, his heart pounding hard. There was a sour taste in his mouth. He had told her everything about the day he lost Mary—he had poured out his heart to her. He had been so close to falling in love with her that he almost thought he had.
His mouth twisted into a bitter line. This was what happened when he allowed himself to let down his defenses and let someone in. He wouldn’t be making a mistake like that again.
He couldn’t wait to see how she was going to bring up the fact that her father needed money and how he was going to shoot her down, once and for all.
***
Selene sat down on the edge of her bed, thinking about Emma’s letter and the request that her dear friend had made. Apparently, her parents were reluctant to let her formally court Captain Redford, as they did not wish their daughter to move so far away to London and knew nothing about her suitor. Emma asked if Selene could ask the duke to intervene on their behalf, vouching for the Captain’s character.
I have not had a chance to ask the duke about it, but I doubt very much he would listen to me. He has made it clear he wants nothing to do with me.
There was a knock at the door. She jumped up, opening it. The butler stood there, his face impassive, handing her a letter. She thanked him, sitting down and opening it.
She scanned it, frowning. It was from her father, but it was very odd, indeed.
There were lines crossed out, in heavy ink, which was not like her father at all. He was a meticulous letter writer who would throw away the letter and start over if he made even thesmallest of mistakes. And what he had written in the place of those erased lines looked hurried. She squinted, peering closer at the handwriting. Had he been in a rush? The writing was almost scrawled…
Suddenly, she gasped in horror, as she actually read what he had written. He was asking her to blackmail the duke for money, to use his affection for her against him, and they had discussed doing such a thing before.
Her head began to spin violently with confusion. What was going on?
She threw the letter away, as if there was poison on the page, rather than ink. None of it made any sense at all. She had written to her father once since she had been at Trenton House but had never even hinted that the duke admired her or held affection for her.
Why would she? It would have only worried her father, who was a firm believer in knowing one’s place. He would be horrified at such a notion.
