Back inside the town house, Hugh yanked her into Weyland's office, ignoring her gasp and furious glare. 'See it done, Weyland,' he bellowed to the unperturbed man. Had Weyland known Hugh would find Jane in a compromising position? Of course. Weyland knew everything. And Hugh was responding just as predicted, being manipulated. 'Just see it done.'
'Consider it so.' Weyland nodded solemnly. 'Why don't you go round and pack a case, son, make anypurchases you'll need? I'd like to speak with Jane privately.'
Hugh strode out and shut the door, but listened for a brief moment.
'Papa,' she began, 'how can you stand by and let him treat me like this, manhandling me and ordering me? If you knew what he just did to—'
'I can and I must,' Weyland interrupted, 'because Hugh's about to be your husband.'
'Have you gone mad? Married to Hugh MacCarrick?' Her sharp laughter grated. 'Never! Never, on your life.'
Chapter Ten
'What iswrong with you?' Jane cried as soon as she heard Hugh slamming out of the house. 'Have you sustained a blow to your head in the half-hour since I've been gone? Perhaps Hugh did it in his present state of violence?' She snapped her fingers. 'Of course! Rapid senility!'
'If you will calm yourself.' Her father's lined visage looked so serious. His kind blue eyes were now grim.
'How am I to be calm? Hugh justattacked Freddie.' Hugh's face had been set so cruelly, she'd thought he would kill him. 'Like some crazed man—'
'I trust there was no permanent damage?'
'—and you just told me I'm to marry him! You should know—I was accepting Freddie's proposal this morning!'
'Indeed?'
She gawked at his tone, at his utter lack of reaction. This man before her was somehow harder than the easygoing father she'd seen earlier this morning.
'I know this is difficult to accept,' he said. 'But I finally must put my foot down.'
'Put your foot down? I'm twenty-seven! You can't force me to marry him.'
He continued as if she hadn't spoken. 'I have turned a blind eye to all your doings with your cousins.'
When she peered at the ceiling, all but whistling to it with guilt, he went on, 'I know that Samantha hasaccounts with the printers' shops on Holywell. I know Claudia is having an affair with her groom. I know of Nancy's penchant for dressing in men's clothing. And your cousin Charlotte is most likely even now waiting in line to get into the divorce court to hear every scandal firsthand.'
'I get the point,' she hastily said, wondering how he could possibly know all this…. Quin! Quin had told on them. It must be. But he should know better than to call down the wrath of the eight cousins.
'I've allowed these things because it seems your entire generation has gone mad.'
She rolled her eyes. 'This isn't the Regency, Papa.'
'But I've also allowed them because on her deathbed your mother made me promise that I would give you the freedom she was afforded and never stifle your spirit.'
'She did?' Jane gazed up at her mother's portrait. Lara Farraday had been the only child of a famous artist, and a gifted one herself. Lara's unique upbringing had been acceptable for a celebrated artist's daughter. 'I never knew that.'
'Already at six, you were so much like her. And I have kept my promise, even when I was stricken with worry for you.'
Jane narrowed her eyes. 'Is that why Quin was spying on me?'
'No. That's not why. He was doing that for the same reason I'm going to break my word to your mother.'
'I don't understand.'
'I've had ill dealings with one of my business associates. I made a decision that affected him and his fortunes critically. He wants revenge, seeks to hurt me in some way. Everyone knows you are what I hold most precious in the world.'
She said slowly, 'Hurt you?'
'He's afflicted with a hunger for opium. He hallucinates. There could be violence.'
She nodded, adding sarcastically, 'And who is this dastardly businessman who has struck fear in your heart? Who moves you to force your daughter into marriage—a marriage, I might add, that is much less advantageousthan the one she arranged for herself ?'
He ignored her rising tone. 'Do you remember Davis Grey?'
'You're jesting?' she said, as a shiver of alarm ran through her.
'Not in the least.'
'I-I had tea with him a couple of times while he waited here for you.' Of all the men he could've mentioned…
Upon first meeting Grey, she'd been struck by his soulful brown eyes, boyishly handsome face, and open mien. He'd been extremely well dressed and had an urbane polish to complement his congenial air.
Yet he'd given her chills when she'd been forced to be near him.
She'd once caught him examining her with an eerie concentration. His expression had never been lustful.That she could have dismissed. She hadn't understood it, but for the first time in her life, and at the age of twenty-five, she'd wished for a chaperone. Now she said softly, 'He gave me chills.'
'Then you sensed that he could be capable of violence?'
'Yes,' she finally admitted. 'But why such drastic steps?'
'Hugh knows Grey from the past, knows him better than anyone does. He can protect you.'
'Freddie could protect me.'
'Jane, we are both pragmatists, realists above everything. And we both know that Frederick couldn't protect you from anything worse than committing a fashion mistake.'
She gasped at the insult, and her father shrugged. 'You know it's true.'
'Why not just call the police?' she demanded. 'With all your influence, you could get Grey on a prison hulk by teatime.'
'I have called in favors and requested help with this matter. But we can't find him. We have no idea when or where he could strike.'
She stood, then slowly crossed to the window. 'So he could be out there watching me right now?'
Incredibly, her father didn't scoff and reassure her. 'He could be. But we don't believe he is. He was last seen in Portugal, and there's been no indication that he's made England yet, only that this is his destination.'
She stared out at two mothers pushing perambulators and tapping each other's forearms as they leaned in with gossip. A boy played at the edge of the park with a hoop and stick. So peaceful. She bit her bottom lip. Though this all seemed so far-fetched, she'd heard of madder scenarios.
After all, she lived in London.
As much as she loved this city, she could acknowledge its dangers and the violence that played out here daily. Just a year ago, Samantha had had a vial of vitriol splashed on her by a perfect stranger. Luckily, it only ate through her dress and scarred her leg—instead of her face, as other women had suffered in similar random attacks over that summer. There were grave robbers, or resurrectionists, who gotimpatient waiting for corpses to sell. And Jane had been mugged so many times that a lull in the offenses gave her cause to wonder if she was dressing shabbily.
She'd read of opium eaters like Grey who, in the grips of hallucinations, assaulted others.
As with a dazzling yet dangerous animal, one could admire London, but had to respect the risks inherent here. If her father said Grey was unhinged and she needed to flee the city, then very well. She'd certainly read stranger accounts in theTimes —accounts she'd always cringed to see included not only the criminals' names and
