Claire turned to the door. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Tory's gaze followed Claire's.

"It sounds like someone is calling you." Claire looked over at Tory, her eyes growing big and round. "I think it's the earl."

Tory heard it, too. She recognized the outraged bellow and a chill swept through her.

"He really sounds angry. You don't think-"

"That's exactly what I think. You had better stay up here." Wishing her heart would stop that ridiculous clatter, Tory lifted her crisp black skirt up out of the way and walked out the door, heading for the stairs leading down to the entry.

Lord Brant stood at the bottom of the staircase, his jaw clenched, a slight flush rising beneath the bones in his cheeks.

"My study," he said as she reached the last stair. "Now!"

Her pulse picked up even more. He was beyond furious, she could see. Sweet G.o.d, she should have told him the whole of it before it was too late! Lifting her chin, she preceded him down the hall and into his study. The earl followed her in and slammed the door.

"You lied to me." His voice was tight, his anger barely contained.

She forced herself to meet his furious gaze. "Only by omission. The rest of what I told you is true."

"Why? Why didn't you just tell me who you were?"

"Because you are an earl and Harwood is a baron. Because there are rules among members of the aristocracy and I wasn't certain you would be willing to break them."

One of his hands fisted. "So you believed I would turn you over to Harwood."

"I thought it was possible, yes."

His jaw went even harder. "I can tell you one thing I likely wouldn't have done. I wouldn't have spent the night making love to you!"

She winced. Perhaps it was true. Perhaps he would have refused the comfort of her body. She wondered if that were part of the reason she hadn't told him who she was.

"I don't regret what happened between us. Do you?"

"For G.o.d's sake, of course I regret it! You are the daughter of a baron! Do you realize the consequences of what you have done?"

She opened her mouth to answer, to a.s.sure him that she would never mention what had transpired between them, but a sharp rap cut off her words. Cord frowned at the interruption, turned and strode to the door. The instant he opened it, two uniformed watchmen swept in, followed by a tall, lean, black-haired man Tory had hoped never to see again.

Her stomach knotted. Cord must have sent for him. Dear G.o.d, she should have known better than to trust the earl. Why hadn't she listened to the warnings in her head? Why hadn't she taken Claire and fled the moment the ship arrived back in London?

Tears burned her eyes but Tory blinked them away. She refused to show weakness in front of her stepfather. She stiffened her spine as the watchmen approached, but before they could reach her, the earl stepped in front of them.

"You can stop right there," he said, freezing them in place. He turned a hard gaze on the baron. "I presume you are Harwood."

He managed a small, haughty smile. "At your service, my lord." He was tall and whipcord thin, his face carved in hard, unforgiving angles. He was selfish and ruthless, and yet for the year he had been wooing her mother, he had seemed kind, almost gentle. He was the sort of man who would do whatever it took to get what he wanted and she hated him for it.

"Before this progresses any further," the earl said, "I want you to know Miss Whiting and her sister are under my protection."

"Is that so?"

"I only just discovered their connection to you this morning. I planned to send word, try to work all of this out."

The smile, such as it was, remained in place. "There is nothing to work out. My wayward daughters will be returned home, where they will make rest.i.tution for the necklace they stole, and all of this will be over. I apologize. Lord Brant, for the trouble they have caused. If there is anything I can do to-"

"You can leave them in my care until this matter is resolved. My cousin and her husband. Lord and Lady Aimes, will stand as chaperones. Victoria and Claire can stay with them at Forest Glen, their Buckinghamshire estate."

Tory's heart beat with a faint ray of hope. Cord hadn't betrayed them. He was trying to help them, just as he had promised.

"You don't seem to understand," the baron pressed. "There is nothing to resolve. The girls are going home with me, their legal guardian."

Frustration crept into the earl's features, and something that looked like desperation. He wasn't going to be able to help them, just as she had feared. Her face felt bloodless and her knees began to tremble beneath her taffeta skirt. Sweet G.o.d, she could only imagine the punishment the baron would mete out for what she had done.

It would be less than nothing compared to what he intended for Claire.

She heard her sister then, coming down the hall, crying as one of the watchmen led her into the study. She looked at the earl, crestfallen with disappointment, certain that he was responsible.

"I thank you for seeing to their care," Harwood was saying. "Since the scandal of residing in a bachelor household all of these weeks would be ruinous to my daughters' reputations, I trust you will keep the matter private."

"No word will come from me."

Harwood focused his attention on Claire. "Come, my pet. It is time we went home."

Cord pinned him with a look of warning. "As I said, these women are under my protection. Should they be mistreated in any way, you will personally answer to me."

The baron made no reply, but his lips thinned as he fought to control his temper. "And should I discover they were harmed in any way during their tenure here, you, sir. will answer to me!"

As if he cared, Tory thought. But perhaps he was concerned that the earl had stolen Claire's virginity, as he himself had planned to do. That would surely upset him. He would, no doubt, be amazed to discover it was his elder stepdaughter who had fallen prey to the earl.

Harwood urged Claire out the door and Tory started after them, but the earl caught her arm.

"I won't leave you there. I'll come for you. I'll find a way to help Claire."

He would try, perhaps. He would do his best to aid them. But the courts were strict in matters of family and there wasn't the least chance he would succeed.

"I'll be all right. It's Claire who needs you."

"I'll come," the earl said even more fiercely, his eyes dark and hard. Worry tightened his jaw as he reached out and touched her cheek.

Tory looked at him one last time, memorizing the handsome lines of his face, thinking of the night they had shared, admitting to herself for the first time how much he had come to mean to her. In truth, she realized, she was in love with him.

And if Harwood had his way, she would never see him again.

Chapter Eleven.

"Then it's true." Cord paced the Oriental carpet in the China Room of the duke of Sheffield's town house, a palatial residence in Hanover Square that dominated most of the block. The China Room was equally grand, with ceilings of black and gold, deep sofas in brocaded Oriental silk, black lacquer furniture and carved cinnabar vases.

Rafe shrugged his shoulders, moving the fabric of his dark blue tailcoat. "We can't know for sure, but Madame Fontaneau is a very reliable source for this kind of information."

"And she says when it comes to matters of the flesh," Cord added, "Harwood's appet.i.tes include everything from very young women to boys and anything in between. On top of that, he is known to be somewhat s.a.d.i.s.tic. This is the man who has control of Victoria and Claire."

Rafe took a sip of his brandy. "What will you do?"

Cord raked a hand through his hair, dislodging several dark strands. "What I was honor-bound to do from the moment I carried her into my cabin aboard the ship. I took her innocence. Victoria is the daughter of a peer. I'll have to marry her."

Rafe eyed him above the rim of his gla.s.s. "I don't believe she expects it. I got the impression she is quite an independent young woman."

"Perhaps marriage is exactly what she expects. Perhaps that is the reason she encouraged my attentions. She wanted out of her stepfather's grasp. Once she is married to me, she will certainly have accomplished that end."

"What about her sister? You've told me how protective she is. Do you really think she planned to marry you and leave her younger sister in the hands of a predator like Harwood?"

He couldn't make himself believe it, not in a million years. "No. I don't think she would ever do anything that might hurt Claire." He sighed as he picked up his gla.s.s and started for the sideboard. "I could use another drink."

"I think you're definitely ent.i.tled."

Cord lifted the stopper off the crystal decanter and poured a goodly amount of brandy into his gla.s.s. "I've already been to see the magistrate. He says his hands are tied. As Harwood is legally their guardian, there is nothing I can do."

"Except offer marriage."

He took a long sip of his drink. "Exactly." He shook his head. "I hoped to expand the family holdings. Lately, I was seriously considering making an offer for Constance Fairchild."

"The Fairchild whelp is a green girl barely out of the schoolroom. She would bore you in a thrice."

"There are ways to entertain oneself beyond home and hearth." He glanced off toward the window. "I can't believe I am failing my father again. He must be turning in his grave."

Rafe just smiled. "From what I've seen, I think your father would approve your choice."

He scoffed. "Victoria will come to me penniless. She has no land, no inheritance." He laughed then, a bitter, grating sound. "G.o.d's blood, I never thought to marry my housekeeper."

Rafe chuckled softly. "Hardly that, my friend." A big hand settled on Cord's shoulder. "I think she may very well suit you. Money or not, your life will never be dull."

Cord made no comment. Victoria had lied to him, tricked him and ruined his plans for the future. He had hoped to repay the debt he owed his father. He had made a promise and now he could not keep it.

He was doomed to fail.

Again.

The door to her bedchamber creaked open. "Tory?" Dressed in her night rail and long quilted wrapper, Claire crept into her bedchamber. The lantern next to the bed cast her slender form in shadow. Worry etched lines into her forehead. "Are you all right?"

They had made the overnight journey from London and arrived at Harwood Hall late in the afternoon. After supper, the baron had summoned Tory into his study and brutally repaid her for the theft of his precious pearl necklace and all the trouble she had caused.

She winced as she sat up in bed. "I'm all right. I'll be better in the morning." But her back burned with the angry red slashes her stepfather had inflicted. The caning she had received was no more than she had expected and she had managed to suffer it without crying out.

She hadn't fought him. She had learned he enjoyed it more if she did. Neither would she let him break her.

"I brought you some salve." Claire closed the door and walked toward her. "Cook says this will help heal the marks and take away some of the pain."

Tory sat up straighter in the bed. Pulling the bow at the neck of her gown, she slid it off her shoulders, exposing the welts. A sound of sympathy whispered from Claire's throat as she sat down on the bed beside her and began to gently dab the ointment on the vicious-looking marks.

"Why does he always beat you and not me?"

Claire still didn't really understand. She didn't realize it was her perfection that drew him. He wouldn't do anything to destroy it. At least not yet.

"He didn't beat you because he knows you don't deserve it. I am the one who took the necklace. I am the one who encouraged you to run away."

"I'm frightened, Tory."

So was she, but not for herself. "Perhaps...perhaps the earl will find a way to help us." She couldn't help wishing, praying that he would. She didn't really believe it would happen.

Claire's face brightened. "Yes, I am certain he will," she said firmly, her mind sliding away as it usually did, into a place where there was light and hope and never any pain. "Lord Brant is a very resourceful man."

An image of Cord appeared, strong and impossibly handsome. Tory forced back memories of hungry kisses and heated flesh, of wild desire and drugging pa.s.sion.

She pasted on a smile. "Yes, he is, and I'm sure he'll think of something."

Perhaps he would, but how much time would it take? How long would it be before Harwood went after Claire? As soon as he had finished his a.s.sault on Tory, he had left the house, called away on business for the balance of the week, she had heard him tell the butler. Once he returned...Dear G.o.d, she refused to think of it.

Claire dabbed the last of the salve on her shoulders.

"Thank you, darling. That feels much better." Pulling her night rail up where it belonged, Tory retied the bow at her neck. "Why don't you go back to your room and get some sleep? For now Lord Harwood is gone and we are safe."

Claire nodded. She had changed in the months since they had left Harwood Hall. Some of her innocence was gone, and if the baron had his way, soon all of it would be.

Tory heard the door softly close as Claire slipped quietly away. In the darkness, she lay on her side and began to count the shadows on the wall. Outside the window, the leaves on the branches of a big sycamore tree shifted against the mullioned window, making a soft scratching sound.

Tory closed her eyes, but she couldn't fall asleep.

"Excuse me, miss." The butler, a brittle little man in his seventies who feared for his job and worked for less than normal pay, hurried toward her down the hall, pausing next to the linen closet, where Tory busily took inventory. She wasn't a housekeeper any longer, but her duties had little changed.

"You've a visitor, miss. The earl of Brant is here. I've shown him into the drawing room."

Her heart pinched, began a painful throbbing. Cord was here. She hadn't completely believed he would come.

"Thank you, Paisley. The journey from London is a long one. Instruct one of the chambermaids to prepare one of the guest rooms for his use."

Removing the ap.r.o.n tied over her apple-green muslin gown, she headed down the hall to the drawing room. Just outside, she paused to smooth her hair, wishing it weren't pulled back in such an unflattering coil, wishing her hands would stop trembling.

The earl stood with his back to her in front of the hearth, his long legs braced a little apart. For an instant as she entered the room, she simply enjoyed the sight of him, the wide shoulders and trim waist, his neatly groomed dark brown hair.

Then he turned toward her and all the emotions she had been fighting rose up at once, threatening to overwhelm her. Her eyes burned. It took sheer force of will to keep herself from rushing into his arms.

"My lord." The words came out more softly than she expected, but her voice sounded fairly even, hiding the turmoil she felt inside.