“You’re not facing it alone,” Phin said, marching on with her.
For a moment, Lenore was certain she was forgiven. Phin wouldn’t be putting himself in so much danger if he didn’t care about her the way she cared about him. But as they drew closer to Bart, she began to wonder if he was simply dragging her on to what she deserved.
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Bart growled, raking her with a hungry look. “I’m glad I decided to come to this shindig after all.”
“Bart.” Lenore greeted him with an impatient nod. “We need to go somewhere quiet so we can talk.”
“I can see you’ve come around, then,” Bart said, looking far too pleased with himself. “I knew you’d see fit to fulfill your duties.”
Lenore sighed impatiently. She hadn’t truly begun to pry him for information that might lead to the truth and already Bart had her feeling out of her depth. “My feelings on the matter haven’t changed at all,” she said. “I still think we can negotiate our way out of this.” Especially if she figured out what he truly wanted.
“What are you doing here, sir?” Reese demanded as he and Freddy joined the confrontation.
More party guests stopped what they were doing to listen in. Lenore’s face burned hot with embarrassment as she peeked at dozens of rapt and nosey faces. “Please,” she whispered. “Could we do this somewhere else?”
“I don’t see that there’s anything to do,” Bart said, speaking too loud and seeming to enjoy the extra attention. “Unless my pretty little wife here wants to dance with me.”
“I’m surprised a man like you can dance at all,” Freddy said, his jaw clenched.
“Watch me.” Bart grabbed Lenore’s wrist and tugged her toward the dance floor. Several of the observers gasped and blanched at his actions.
“Unhand her,” Phin demanded, leaping after them.
“Phin, it’s all right,” Lenore said, barely above a whisper. Dancing with Bart might open up the right opportunity to figure out the truth. She attempted to tell Phin as much in the way she met his eyes and bored into him, begging him to let her handle things.
Phin let out a restless huff and rocked back, shoving a hand through his hair and knocking his glasses askew. “I’ll be right here if you need me,” he said in a tight voice.
Lenore nodded, but Bart jerked her on to the dance floor before she could say anything. Her wrist hurt from his iron-hard grip, and even more of the guests stared at them as Bart manhandled her into dance position and began a clumsy waltz. Lenore almost laughed at the irony of the way everyone’s expressions changed as they watched Bart fling her around the dance floor. All it had taken to shift public opinion of her from wicked harlot to unfortunate maiden was for her lout of a husband to show up and offend everyone.
“Look, Bart, there has to be a way we can resolve this without anyone being hurt,” Lenore opened her desperate attempt to save herself, and her family back home, as quickly as she could. “Tell me what you really want.”
“I’ve already told you,” Bart replied, as unmovable as a mountain, but bristling with anxiety as well.
“I think there’s more you’re not telling me,” Lenore pushed on. “Why not come after me immediately? Why wait a year? Has something changed at home?”
“My need for a woman,” Bart snapped, giving Lenore the sense she was skating closer to the truth.
“What good does it do you to have a wife who doesn’t want to be married to you?” Lenore tried to make her case all the same.
Bart huffed an impatient breath as he jerked her through a half turn in order to avoid another dancing couple, though most of the other dancers were more focused on the drama unfolding in front of them than they were on the steps of the waltz. “I want the same thing I’ve wanted from the get-go—a rich wife with connections, or a corpse who will keep her yap shut.”
Lenore’s heart sank. He wasn’t going to slip up the way she needed him to. “I swear, I won’t tell a soul what I saw.” She’d promised the same thing a dozen times already to no avail, but there didn’t seem to be anything left she could do but make the offer again. “You can go back to Wyoming and continue on with whatever—”
“I’m not going back there,” Bart snapped so fast it blew Lenore’s thoughts right out of her mind. That was it. She’d hit on the deeper truth at last. There was a reason he couldn’t go home, a reason that meant he needed her, or possibly her money. Her heart sped up and her mind raced.
“Where do you plan to go if not home?” she asked.
“Maybe South America,” he started before clamping his mouth shut and glaring at her, as if she’d forced him into admitting something he shouldn’t have. “Never you mind about that,” he growled, the intensity of his viciousness increasing.
“Please, just let me go,” she breathed, trying desperately to hold herself together. “Perhaps I could arrange to pay you something for your trouble.”
Bart grinned at her, not a single ounce of compassion in his eyes. “You’re pretty when you’re desperate. I wonder what I can do to make you even prettier.”
Lenore swallowed. That was it, then. She wasn’t dealing with a rational man, she was dealing with someone who thrived on others’ pain. That didn’t bode well at all for what he’d do to her if he got his way.
She simply had to discover what had happened back home that motivated him now, even
