Page 49 of A Virgin to Tempt the Duke

“Perhaps not everyone,” she said. “But the attorney believes me. And the Duke of Rathbourne believes me. And courts have a way of being persuaded by men of higher rank.” She kept her chin up. “I do not think you want the happenings of that morning examined very closely. I suggest you leave.”

A silence. He took a step toward her. She held her ground.

“I am not going to hurt you,” he said, as if she had suggested it. “Despite what you might have been told about me. I have never?—”

“You assaulted the butler.”

Birchall shrugged. “He is a servant, I’m sure he’ll be fine.” He took another step toward Anna. “Come with me now, and I will say nothing further about any of this. We will go home, and take care of things quietly, and no one else needs to beinvolved.”

“No,” she said.

“Anna—”

“No.” Her voice did not rise. All she wanted was the peace she had started that evening with. “I am not going anywhere with you,” she said. “You can stand in this hall for as long as you like. I am not going.”

Suddenly, the front door opened, and relief crashed over Anna.

The Duke had arrived.

Frederick burst through the door without announcement, and stopped. He saw Simmons slumped on the floor. Anna. Birchall.

“Birchall,” he growled.

Birchall turned and looked at Frederick, and did not pretend to be surprised. “Your Grace, this is a surprise,” he said. “The ball ended early?”

“Get out of my house,” Frederick said.

“I am retrieving my wife. You have no legal claim to this?—”

“You are leaving my property,” he growled as he strode further into the hall. “Immediately, and without further discussion.”

“She is legally bound to me.”

“She is in my house. Under my protection. And you struck my butler.” Frederick’s voice had the quality of something pulled tight and held there by considerable effort.

He crossed the hall in four strides and took Birchall by the arm. It was not as vulgar as a grab, but something more deliberate, and moved him toward the door.

“Take your hands?—”

“Silence.”

Frederick opened the front door with his free hand and put Birchall through it onto the front step. He followed him out and pulled the door almost closed behind them. He could see Anna peering out from the side window.

Birchall had recovered himself on the steps. He was straightening his coat. The pleasant expression was gone.

“You’ll hear from my solicitors,” he said. “Kidnapping, Rathbourne. That is what this is! I will have you before a magistrate?—”

“Go ahead,” Frederick said. “Try it.”

“You cannot?—”

“I assure you, I can. You are welcome to file whatever petition you choose. I will answer it. And when I answer it, I will answer it in detail, and the detail will include the manner in which you obtained a special license, and what was done to Miss Cartwell outside that church. All of it.” A pause. “You told two men at the ball tonight that your wife is in the country. You said she might be with child.I heard you.” He let that sit for a moment. “You will think carefully about whether you want a court to know she has been living in my house for two months and that your story is a fabrication, and what that says about the marriage and about you.”

Birchall said nothing.

“You don’t want this,” Frederick said. “Not the scandal. Not the examination. Not the story of how she left.” He looked at him steadily. “You want the annulment as little as I want anyone asking questions about my household. The difference is that I can afford the examination and you cannot.” A pause. “Be gone.”

“She will not come out of this well,” Birchall said, finally, his jaw a thin line. “When this becomes public?—”