Chapter 22

Thel met his mother in the entryway, in what was ultimately a futile attempt to send her away before she shattered their plans.

“How did you find me?” he asked. It would have been a rude question, even in private, but he was beyond caring. He had told the rest of his family that they were taking a carriage ride into the country. No one should have come looking for him.

His mother tutted. “You are a terrible liar, Thellusson. I knew you were lying the moment you told me about your plans for the day.” She put her hands on her hips. “You are not the only person in the family who has noticed a change in Constance. When we return home, you will tell me what you have been doing, and why you felt the need to lie, so I am not forced to interrogate poor Mrs. Quill.”

He stifled a curse. As was typical of his mother, she’d responded without answering his question, turning the conversation against him.

Olivia appeared at his side and dropped into a curtsey. “Good evening, Your Grace. We did not anticipate the pleasure of your company.”

His mother sniffed. “Well, if you are here, Lady Allen, it must mean my darling granddaughter is about socializing with her suitors. Excellent. I would like to meet the young men who have been selected as candidates. To confirm for myself that they are suitable.”

It could not possibly get any worse.

Olivia curled her fingers around his arm and uttered a soft, “Oh, no.”

“What is it?” he whispered. Then he spotted his daughter and Dawson in the hallway and realized that he had been wrong.

It could absolutely get worse.

Constance moved toward him, apparently unconcerned with how Dawson had exploded with anger only minutes before. It was as if the scenario in the park were repeating, except this time, Dawson was the clear winner and Mr. Ringwell was nowhere to be seen.

When he found the boy, he would have some harsh words to share.

His mother spotted Constance, and he was forced to trail behind as the duchess stalked toward her granddaughter, an unavoidable force. In any other circumstance, the terrified look on Dawson’s face when he spotted who was heading toward him might have been entertaining. Unfortunately, Thel did not have time to relish the moment.

“G-Grandmother,” Constance said, clutching Dawson’s arm. “What are you doing here?”

The duchess folded her arms. “I came to assess your progress regarding your suitors. Do you have a favorite?”

Constance paled. “Well, yes, I suppose.”

The duchess switched her attention to Dawson. “And who might you be?”

“This is Mr. Dawson,” Constance said.

He gave a deep bow. “Your Grace, it is an honor to meet you.”

The duchess narrowed her eyes. “What is your relationship with my granddaughter, Mr. Dawson?”

Thel felt as if he were watching a carriage accident in slow motion. He could do nothing but watch as Dawson brought Thel’s carefully laid plans crashing down.

“We are betrothed, Your Grace.”

“Indeed?” the duchess asked, lifting her eyebrows. Then she turned to face Thel. “How curious that I am hearing about this for the first time.”

He tugged at his cravat. “It’s rather complicated.”

His mother drew herself up. “I think not. Mr. Dawson, I would be pleased if you would join us for dinner tomorrow night. I am certain the rest of the family would be eager to meet you.”

Dawson bowed. “It would be my honor, Your Grace.”

The duchess swished her skirts and made for the receiving room. Before the day was out, every member of his household would know that Thel had hidden Constance’s engagement from them. The fracture lines that had formed the day he had refused Felix’s request to use Constance as part of a business deal would deepen, and soon the family he had fought so hard to unify would fall to pieces.

He felt like Odysseus caught between the six-headed monster Scylla and the whirlpool of Charybdis. He either allowed Constance to marry Dawson, or obeyed the will of his brothers and allowed her to be married off to a stranger.

He couldn’t do it. No matter which he chose, he would lose his daughter, perhaps forever. There had to be some other option, some possibility he’d not yet considered that would not lead to the fracture of his family.

He wouldn’t give up until he’d found it.

###

Olivia slumped over Thel’s desk, letting her arms splay over the edges. She had come to his house that afternoon with all her husband’s letters in tow, determined to search through them for the slightest reference of a mistress. But even the letters he’d written to his own family had included no mention of marital transgressions. If she hadn’t been well acquainted with her husband’s insufferable tendency to keep every scrap of paper he put a pen to, she would have suspected him to have burned the letters that contained the information she needed.

“It’s time,” Thel said. “Mr. Dawson will be here shortly.”

She groaned. “It is too late. I am deceased. Please continue without me.”

Icy fingers touched the back of her neck. “You are quite warm for a corpse. I believe I could pose you in a seat.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist and hauled her out of the chair. She squealed and kicked her legs until he put her back on her feet. The moment he released her, she flitted across the room and out the door, only slowing when she reached the staircase.

Constance stood at the bottom of the steps, staring at the door. Mr. Ringwell stood by her, dressed in a fetching, brushed wool suit.

“At least he made an appearance this time,” Thel said when he joined her. There was more than a little bitterness in his tone. Olivia could not blame him. Far from recoiling from her inappropriate suitor after Mr. Dawson’s show of anger, Constance had become even more infatuated. They couldn’t even have the brief respite of home, as there was no longer a reason for her to avoid speaking of him now that her relatives were aware of her betrothal.

Olivia’s hopes to separate the couple were dimming by the day. Constance had shown little interest in anyone but Mr. Dawson and Mr. Ringwell. The former for obvious reasons and the latter because her history with her childhood friend had so far prevented her from cutting him outright.

There was another knock at the door, softer this time. Constance darted forward. She flung open the door and took Mr. Dawson’s arm, all but dragging him inside. The slight smile on Mr. Dawson’s face did not waver until Mr. Ringwell stepped forward to greet him. Then his smile vanished.

“Mr. Ringwell,” Mr. Dawson said icily.

Mr. Ringwell gave a slight incline of his head before Constance pulled Mr. Dawson into the ballroom, where the rest of her family waited.

Thel and Olivia followed, and as such were able to view each family member’s reaction when they saw Mr. Dawson.

The duchess’s eye twitched. Thel’s brothers glowered. Their wives hovered behind them, chatting and acting as if they were not part of the party.

Except for one.

A blonde woman in a gold gown stood apart, glaring at Olivia with such a fierce expression of hatred on her face that it took her aback.

“Don’t mind Celina,” Thel said. “Felix had his own plans for Constance’s future and when I refused to cut ties with you, I fear she was the one who suffered.”

Olivia was not so sure. When she turned, it was as if she could feel the woman’s gaze digging into her back.

As they took their places around the table, she was relieved to find she was sitting far from the woman.

A bell chimed, and a line of servants entered the drafty dining hall. A shallow bowl of tomato-based soup was placed in front of her. She picked up the appropriate spoon and took a sip, but the texture was too thick for her liking.

“Mr. Dawson,” the duchess said from the head of the table. “My daughter has told me of your family’s business. I confess some interest. There aren’t many men of business in our family.”

The slight insult did not appear to bother Mr. Dawson, although Constance’s cheeks turned a deep shade of red.

“My father left most of the labor to our trusted employees in America,” Mr. Dawson said.

“He sent you away, did he?” the duke asked. He harrumphed. “Not much of a father to ship his son off and split the family apart.”

Mr. Dawson shifted in his seat. “He was not well and did not wish me to witness his decline.”

“Oh, dear,” the duchess said. “William, apologize at once. You know as well as I that you would have done the same in the elder Mr. Dawson’s position.”

The duke grumbled an apology, which Mr. Dawson gracefully accepted.

The duchess leaned back in her chair with a smile. All evidence so far suggested she approved of Mr. Dawson, who had displayed impeccable manners.

“I did not think the rail business was terribly profitable,” Thel’s brother, Lord Felix Vaith, said.

“On the contrary, several of my father’s business ventures have proven quite lucrative,” Mr. Dawson said.

Lord Felix aggressively cut through his chicken. “Indeed? I had thought that the enormous workforce necessary to operate such a business would result in thin margins.”

Mr. Dawson shook his head. “Not at all, Lord Felix. However, I would not want to sour the appetites of the ladies present. Perhaps we could discuss this after dinner.”

Bright spots of red appeared on Lord Felix’s cheeks. “Yes. Of course.”

Olivia looked back and forth between the two men. Something about the tone of their voices struck her as false, as if they were having a separate conversation from what she was hearing.

When the second course, a chicken fricassée served with new potatoes, appeared, she leaned over to whisper in Thel’s ear. “This is not going well.”

“If I may be so bold,” Mr. Dawson said suddenly, “I understand that all of you have concerns regarding my intentions toward Constance, but I assure you that despite what you might have heard”—he glanced at Olivia—“I am an honorable man. My only desire is to ensure Constance is happy.”

The duchess put her hand on her chest. “Oh, dear. I suppose it was terribly rude of us to put you on the spot.”

Mr. Dawson inclined his head. “You are invested in the well-being of your granddaughter, Your Grace. Anyone would have done the same in your position.” He paused for a moment before his gaze settled on Olivia. “However, there is one matter that confuses me. As Constance and I have an agreement, why must there be a matchmaker present?”

The room went so silent that the patter of rain on the windows could be heard, as well as clanging and bubbling from the kitchen.

“Mr. Dawson is right,” Lord Felix said. “I, for one, have settled my opinion.”

“I would rather not spend another second in her presence,” Felix’s wife said.

Mr. Dawson looked at Thel. “Lord Lowell, does your personal attachment to this woman outweigh the desires of the rest of your family?”

Olivia stared at Thel, waiting for him to respond. When he did not, pressure built behind her eyes until she could no longer stand it. She shoved back from the table and rushed from the room.

Thel might not see the cruelty behind Mr. Dawson’s cool facade, but she did. The moment they were married, and Constance could no longer escape, Mr. Dawson would drop his act and become like the earl. Demanding. Possessive. More a prison guard than a husband.

She wished she’d let Thel challenge him to a duel, because then at least it would be over.

She came to a halt as she reached the front door, a plan crystalizing in her mind.

Thel couldn’t challenge him, but she could.

She would write another article in her guise as a gentleman, this time demanding the writer provide proof of his claims against her. At the same time, she would casually remark in front of several of her servants that she needed to destroy several important documents related to her marriage that she was storing in her office. If her suspicions were correct, Mr. Dawson was bribing one or more members of her staff to gather information to use against her. He would learn of the documents, and, feeling compelled to produce proof, would try to steal them.

“Olivia, wait,” Thel said from behind her.

She spun around, anger forgotten. “I know how we can stop him.”

Thel shoved his hands in his hair. “No more plans. No more lies. Mr. Dawson might not be the most appropriate choice, but he has my brother’s approval. Constance loves him. It’s over.”

The damned man was going to sentence his daughter to a life of abuse because he couldn’t see beyond his fantasies. She grabbed his wrists. “Stop this nonsense, Thel. Love isn’t some magical force that will save Constance from a life of misery. Don’t be so childish.”

He stepped back, shoving her hands away. “That’s what you think of me? That I’m childish?”

His words slipped between his ribs and dug into her heart, but she would not give up while there was a chance to convince him. “You’re only seeing what he wants you to see.”

“What about the things we’ve done together?” he asked. “Were they merely games?”

“Thel, listen to me! We can still beat him. I can use the divorce petition to—”

He held up his hand. “That won’t be necessary. I apologize, Lady Allen, but your services are no longer required.”