Chapter 17 #2
Then Morgan turned to Eliza, his expression softening. “Are you all right?”
Before she could answer, another voice cut through the room.
“Eliza Newmont, you will come here this instant!”
Lady Ramersby was pushing through the crowd, Lord Ramersby following reluctantly behind her, Whitfield’s shadow looming at their backs.
Morgan’s jaw tightened. “Perhaps we should continue this conversation somewhere more private. My study. Lord and Lady Ramersby.”
It wasn’t a suggestion; they all followed him immediately.
The study felt suffocatingly small with four people crammed inside.
Morgan stood behind his desk, arms crossed. Eliza stood near the window, as far from her parents as possible. Lord and Lady Ramersby occupied the center of the room like invading forces.
“How dare you,” Lady Ramersby spat, advancing on Eliza. “How dare you disgrace us like this! Running away, hiding like a common criminal, working as a… as a servant in another man’s house!”
“Mother…”
“Don’t you ‘Mother’ me! Do you have any idea what you’ve put us through? The lies we’ve had to tell, the gossip we’ve endured?”
“I never meant—”
“Enough!” Lord Ramersby’s face was red with fury. “You’ve ruined us! Made us the laughingstock of London! And for what? Some childish rebellion?”
“It wasn’t rebellion,” Eliza said, finding her voice. “You were trying to force me into a marriage with a murderer!”
“You ungrateful child,” her father snarled. “We secured you an excellent match!”
“With a man whose last wife died under suspicious circumstances!” Eliza’s voice rose. “A man under whose care my best friend fell to her death!”
“You will not make such accusations,” Lady Ramersby hissed. “Lord Whitfield has been nothing but gracious!”
“Gracious?” Eliza turned to Morgan, desperation in her eyes.
“Your Grace, I’m so sorry. I never meant to drag you into this.
I only wanted work, somewhere far from London.
When you hired me in Sussex, I thought… Well, I never expected you’d bring the entire household to London.
I never meant for any of this to happen.
I just wanted to disappear, to be safe…”
“Safe from what?” her father demanded. “From a man who was willing to take you?”
“Safe from a man who killed…”
“Enough.”
The roar came from Morgan.
Everyone fell silent.
Morgan moved out from behind his desk, his eyes fixed on Lord Ramersby with an intensity that made the older man take an involuntary step back.
“You were forcing your daughter into marriage,” Morgan said, his voice low and dangerous. “Why?”
“That’s none of your concern, Your Grace,” Lady Ramersby said quickly. “This is a family matter—”
“It became my concern when Lady Eliza sought refuge in my household.” Morgan didn’t look at her, didn’t acknowledge her attempt to deflect. “Lord Ramersby. Answer the question.”
“It’s a father’s right to arrange his daughter’s marriage,” Lord Ramersby blustered. “She has a duty to obey…”
“To Lord Whitfield specifically,” Morgan interrupted. “Why him? Of all the men in London, why did you choose a man with three dead wives for your daughter?”
Lord Ramersby’s mouth opened and closed. No sound came out.
“Your Grace,” Lady Ramersby tried again, her tone shifting to something cloying and sweet. “Really, we shouldn’t trouble you with such matters. You must be terribly busy, and our family affairs are hardly of any interest for a man of your standing.”
“I asked a question,” Morgan said coldly. “I expect an answer.”
Eliza’s hands were shaking. She clenched them into fists. The sight made Morgan’s blood boil.
“My father owes Lord Whitfield money,” she said quietly. “Gambling debts. Lord Whitfield agreed to forgive them if I married him.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
“You sold her,” Morgan said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You sold your own daughter to settle your debts?”
“How dare you!” Lord Ramersby’s face went purple. “You know nothing about—”
“I know enough.” Morgan took a step closer. “I know you tried to force her into marriage with a man she feared. A man who has left a trail of dead wives in his wake. A man who—”
“Keep your mouth shut, Eliza!” Lord Ramersby hissed, whirling on his daughter. “This is all your fault, you stupid, selfish little—”
Morgan moved faster than Eliza had ever seen him move.
One moment, he was across the room. The next, he was inches from Lord Ramersby’s face. He reached his arm back and landed a single, hard blow on his cheek. Lord Ramersby grabbed his pink cheek, his expression blank.
“Watch. Your. Tongue. In. My. House,” Morgan said, his voice a lethal growl.
Lord Ramersby stumbled backward, all bluster evaporating in an instant. Morgan held his gaze for a long moment, then turned away, disgusted. The room was silent save for Lord Ramersby’s labored breathing. Then Morgan turned to Eliza.
“Lady Eliza,” he said quietly. “I have a proposition for you.”
She could only stare at him, unable to speak.
“Marry me,” he said.
“What?” Lady Ramersby’s shriek was immediate as she began fanning herself.
Morgan ignored her, his eyes only on Eliza.
“Marry me,” he repeated. “I’ll pay your father’s debts. I’ll give you my name, my protection. You’ll never have to fear Whitfield or anyone else again. And,” his voice softened further, “you’ll be free of your parents. Free to make your own choices.”
“Your Grace,” she whispered. “You don’t…you don’t have to…”
“I know I don’t have to. But I am doing it anyway.”
Lady Ramersby was sputtering nonsense, clearly torn between outrage at Morgan’s presumption and delight at the prospect of her daughter becoming a duchess.
Lord Ramersby looked as though he might faint.
Morgan watched her glance at her parents, the people who’d raised her, who should have protected her, who instead had tried to sell her to a monster. Then she looked at Morgan.
“Yes,” she heard herself say. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
Morgan’s expression transformed. Relief. Joy. Something that looked almost like hope.
“Good,” he said softly. “Lord Ramersby, you’ll have your money within the week. Consider the debt settled.”
“Your Grace,” her father managed, his voice weak. “This is… most generous. I do not know what to say. I-I—”
“You’ve said plenty tonight, Lord Ramersby.” Morgan’s tone was cold again. “And now, I believe it’s time for you to leave.”
“But…”
“Both of you. Out. I’ll send word about the wedding arrangements.”
Lady Ramersby opened her mouth to protest, but one look at Morgan’s face silenced her, and so, they left.