Whatever this young woman, Millicent’s cousin, was now up to, Ranulf was very much on his guard against it.

  “No. Please,” Darcy choked, mortified at how desperate she sounded but quite unable to stop herself from begging. “I cannot go back there. I-I cannot.” She began to cry in earnest.

  “Whatever foolishness you have become embroiled in cannot be solved by running away,” Ranulf informed her icily. “You must go back and confess all to your parents. I am sure they will not condemn you out of—”

  “My parents are both dead,” Darcy informed him dully. “They were killed in the same carriage accident which took my Aunt Sugdon, who was my mother’s sister.”

  Ranulf was aware his former mother-in-law, a woman whom he had pitied for her choice of husband, had perished four months ago, her carriage having overturned during the worst of the winter weather. He had not realized there had been others in the carriage with her. Darcy Ambridge’s parents, if she was to be believed. Which explained why she was currently shrouded from head to toe in black.

  But not the reason she had been caught hiding in his town carriage.

  “I am sorry for that,” he dismissed brusquely. “But you must have a guardian—”

  “My Uncle Sugdon.”

  Ranulf frowned. His former father-in-law was not one of his favorite people. “Lord Sugdon is your closest relative?”

  She nodded. “It would appear so, yes. Although I did not really know him until recently. My father did not care for my aunt’s husband. Since the death of my parents and Aunt Sugdon, I have resided at Lord Sugdon’s home with him.”

  There was something in the way she spoke…

  Some hint of… Of what, Ranulf was unsure.

  He only knew it was there. Beneath the surface. Unspoken, but lurking malevolently nonetheless.

  Ranulf recalled Millicent had been slightly in awe, even a little afraid of her politically powerful father. Her last words before she rode to her death had been to beseech Ranulf not to send her back to her father. She had claimed it was because he would beat her for shaming him and their family, before having her locked away in an asylum for the rest of her life.

  Ranulf looked searchingly at the young woman standing before him. Lord Cecil Sugdon’s niece by marriage. Now his ward. He could not help but wonder if Sugdon had threatened and beaten her too?

  Had he frightened her enough that she had secreted herself away in Ranulf’s carriage?

  Or was it possible Sugdon had a hand in her being here? If so, Ranulf could think of only one reason why the older man would have done such a thing. Sugdon, knowing Ranulf now had a vast fortune, had been embarrassingly ingratiating when Ranulf called on the other man yesterday evening.

  His eyes narrowed. “Where is your maid?”

  “I left her in London. She was employed by my uncle, not me,” she added defensively at Ranulf’s frown.

  “So you are completely unchaperoned?”

  “Yes.”

  Ranulf breathed deeply through his nose. “Did Sugdon put you up to this?”

  “Up to what?” Darcy looked genuinely bewildered.

  “Hiding in my carriage,” Ranulf answered her impatiently. “I can think of no other way in which you could have known I was leaving London this morning.”

  “I…I was standing in the gallery above the entrance hall when you said your good-byes to my uncle yesterday evening,” she acknowledged guiltily.

  “Eavesdropping!” Ranulf snorted his disgust. He had visited Sugdon so that he might return Millicent’s dowry in full to the older man. He wanted nothing in his life that belonged to any of the Sugdon family. “Or is it possible you and your uncle have schemed together to compromise me into now marrying you?”

  She recoiled back a step. “Marrying you…? Why on earth would you ever think such a thing?”

  Ranulf snorted. “The Montgomery family is a powerful one in Scotland.” Which had been the reason Sugdon had granted permission for Ranulf’s betrothal and marriage to Millicent the previous year. “I am also now a wealthy man in my own right.”

  By the sweat of his brow. Ranulf had invested the money he had originally intended using to buy a house in London. He had needed to do something to occupy his tortured mind and spirit. Perhaps because of that unhappiness, he had been completely ruthless in his business dealings and was now as wealthy, if not more so, than the cousin whom Millicent had plotted to kill for his fortune and title.

  The irony was not lost on Ranulf.

  As he was sure it had not been lost on Sugdon. “Having once lost that powerful and now very wealthy son-in-law, it would be just like Sugdon to arrange for his niece to take his daughter’s place as my wife,” he said scornfully. “Possibly he and another witness are standing ready to leap out and claim wrongdoing on my part before forcing me into marrying you?”

  “I am running away from my uncle, not acting as his accomplice in some grand scheme to entrap you into matrimony,” she insisted heatedly. “Why would I? I barely know you, let alone feel any desire to marry you. And you obviously do not remember having met me at all. I was present at your wedding last spring,” she explained as Ranulf frowned.

  His wedding to Millicent. When Ranulf only had eyes for his beautiful bride and thoughts for the wedding night ahead of them. Completely ignorant of Millicent’s true nature. He had been a fool living in a fool’s paradise.

  No longer. Ranulf was now all too aware of the vagaries of human nature. The greed and ambition. The callous intent. The betrayal…

  Having completely abandoned his political ambitions, Ranulf had no wish to become embroiled with any of the Sugdon family ever again. For any reason. He and his family had barely escaped unscathed the last time.

  Even if it should transpire Darcy was telling him the truth, Sugdon was now her legal guardian. There was nothing Ranulf could do about whatever her unhappy situation was.

  The rift, if there was a rift, between uncle and niece, was probably over something minor anyway, which this young woman had blown up out of all proportion inside her head. Sugdon had probably turned down a marriage proposal on behalf of his niece that she wanted to accept. Or maybe it was something as silly as her wanting a new bonnet her uncle disapproved of.

  Who knew what manner of nonsense Darcy Ambridge had considered important enough to have run away from her guardian’s home so that she might now throw herself—literally—at Ranulf’s feet.

  “My Uncle Sugdon—” She drew in a deep and shuddering breath before continuing. “Yesterday, he stated that, after my birthday next week, when I will turn one and twenty, it is his intention to start visiting me in my bedchamber and sharing my bed each night.”

  Whatever explanation Ranulf had been expecting, it had most certainly not been that.

  Chapter 2

  He scowled his displeasure. “What nonsense is this—”

  “I assure you, it is not nonsense to me!”

  Ranulf’s frown deepened as he heard the emotional strain in Darcy Ambridge’s voice. Just as he could see the sincerity in her anguished expression. “Lord Cecil Sugdon is a much-respected member of Parliament.” He might not like the other man, but he could not dispute Sugdon’s power and influence.

  “I think you will find he is feared rather than respected,” Darcy dismissed, having witnessed that fear in several of her uncle’s visitors during the months she had resided in his home.

  “He has the ear of both the prime minister and the Prince Regent.”

  She nodded. “Which is why he is feared.”

  Ranulf gave an exasperated shake of his head. “I have no time for the man but… Are you sure you have not merely misunderstood his intentions?”

  “It is impossible to misunderstand his inappropriate…fondling of me of late.” Darcy kept her chin at a proud angle. She was so embarrassed by the subject of this conversation, she wanted to hide her face in shame.

  “Perhaps it was a fumbling attempt to show affection? God knows I’ve always found Sugdon to be a cold fish,” Ranulf added disgustedly.

  Darcy drew in a shaky breath, very much aware of how important it was that Ranulf believe her. Her whole future depended upon it.

  “At the beginning, he was everything that was considerate and kind,” she conceded. “Sympathizing with my loss. Understanding of my grief. But this past week, he has begun to…to touch me as he should not.” She moistened dry lips. “Yesterday evening, after you left, he called me into his study, insisted I sit upon his knee as he explained to me it has been four months now, and he misses having his wife available for his pleasure. That it is his intention for me to…to now take her place.”

  Ranulf’s top lip curled back with distaste. “He actually said those things to you?”

  She nodded abruptly. “And all the time he did so, his…his… I could feel it through my clothing… His… It was hard and pressing against my bottom.” Could someone die of embarrassment and shame? Because at that moment, Darcy dearly wished to do so.

  “Such a relationship is incestuous!”

  “Not quite. He explained that to me too.” Darcy grimaced at Ranulf’s frown. “My mother was sister to his wife, so the two of us are not related by blood.”

  “He has been your uncle by marriage all your life. That is what makes it incestuous!”

  Darcy eyed Ranulf warily as she heard the anger in his tone, unsure if that anger was directed toward her or her uncle.

  Nor did she particularly care. She had managed to safely depart London without detection, taking with her only those personal items, and clothing she had deemed absolutely necessary. No matter what Ranulf Montgomery believed or did not believe, what he said or did, she had no intention of ever returning to her uncle’s house in London.

  “You are unwilling?”

  “Of course I am unwilling!” Darcy gasped. “He is an old man. An ugly, disgusting old man who does not care for me either. I am only ‘a convenient quim living in his house, young and ripe for him to stick his cock into.’” A sob caught in her throat as she quoted that man’s words to her. “Even the thought of him touching me…in such an intimate manner causes the nausea to rise in my throat.”

  Ranulf was surprised to hear such crude terms as “quim” and “cock” coming out of this young woman’s mouth. Words more suited to a common tavern or a brothel.

  Or the words of a lecherous old man when he was explaining their future relationship to a much younger woman.

  Proof that Darcy spoke the truth?

  The genuine anguish of her expression and the trembling of her body seemed to indicate that might indeed be the case.

  Not only was Sugdon this girl’s uncle by marriage, but Darcy did bear that resemblance in looks to the man’s own daughter. And Millicent had feared being returned to her father’s house so much, she had risked her life by trying to ride a stallion totally unfamiliar to her, and been thrown to her death by doing so. Was it possible Sugdon had ever…?

  Ranulf’s thoughts veered sharply away from answering that question. Until a few months ago, Sugdon’s long-suffering wife had still been alive to share the old bastard’s bed. And satisfy his physical lusts.

  If Darcy was telling the truth, Ranulf could well understand why she had felt the need to flee London so urgently.

  He understood, but still had no intention of taking her the rest of the way to Scotland with him. He had lived completely alone for the past eight months, occasionally calling on his cousin and his wife at nearby Castle Montgomery when he was at home in Cairn House. But for the most part, he had kept his own company.

  Licking your wounds, his cousin Sin had called it, along with the advice: the best way to forget one woman is to bed another. Easy for Sin to say, when he was so happily married to the lovely and fiercely loyal Fliss. Besides, Millicent had not been merely a woman but Ranulf’s wife, and no matter how many women he had bedded since, he had never once forgotten his wife’s duplicity or the cynicism he now felt toward all women.

  He had made this recent visit to London only because he had several business matters to attend to. As soon as that was done to his satisfaction, including returning Millicent’s dowry to her father, he had departed immediately for Scotland.

  Only to now discover he had not departed alone.

  How could he possibly, in all conscience, send Darcy Ambridge back to her uncle’s house after the things she had just told him?

  Even taking into account her young age, and perhaps a too-vivid imagination, it was surely not possible for her to have imagined Sugdon touching her or stating he intended to start visiting her in her bedchamber at night. The crudeness of the language she had used to describe Sugdon’s intentions certainly sounded more like the arrogant lord than this young lady of Society.

  So what was Ranulf to do with her, if he could not, in all conscience, send her back to London and her guardian?

  The immediate answer to that was to feed her. She had been stuck in that stuffy carriage all day, possibly without food and water. The time it took them to eat dinner would give Ranulf more time to consider how much of Darcy’s story he believed and how best to deal with it.

  He sighed. “Firstly, I believe, having been confined to the carriage all day, you must now have need of the ladies’ retiring room?”

  “I do, yes.” The color once again blazed in her cheeks. “And secondly?”

  “You may join me for dinner— Only if you agree to keep your distance,” he said firmly and holding up a stilling hand as Darcy would have launched herself into his arms in gratitude. “This habit you have of throwing yourself at a gentleman is perhaps responsible for Sugdon having thought you were open to the idea of his bedding you.” Ranulf immediately felt guilty for his cruelty, as Darcy drew her breath in sharply and the color drained from her face.

  Nevertheless, she kept her chin proudly raised. “I assure you, I have never willingly touched my uncle. Nor will I. I would rather enter a convent.” This statement was joined by a telling shudder of revulsion.

  Understandably so, considering Sugdon was at least thirty years this girl’s senior, and rotund and tending to baldness besides. All of which could have been excused if the woman Sugdon had set his amorous sights on had returned that interest. Darcy most assuredly did not.

  “Your predilection for drama seems to match your penchant for physically expressing overenthusiastic…affections,” Ranulf drawled dismissively. “I suggest you curb doing both those things whilst you are in my company.”

  Darcy would cease talking and moving altogether if only Ranulf would agree to take her farther away from London. It need not be all the way to Scotland. Another hundred, even two hundred miles, might suffice. She could make her own arrangements for the future once she was a safe distance from London.

  Her main emotion yesterday evening had been shock at being spoken to so crudely and with such lewd intentions, quickly followed by panic as she realized she must escape London, and her uncle, as soon as possible.

  Knowing of Ranulf Montgomery’s departure for Scotland this morning had seemed like a godsend. A sign telling her what she needed to do.

  Darcy had taken that action without hesitation, stealing away from her uncle’s home early this morning before making her way to Winterbourne House. There were two carriages being prepared for Ranulf’s journey in the cobbled courtyard at the back of the house, and it did not take long for Darcy to learn which one was to carry the luggage.

  She had waited until the carriage was fully loaded, the grooms having gone back inside the house for their breakfast, before she hurried to secrete herself amid that luggage, to avoid detection. She had breathed a sigh of relief when the two carriages left Winterbourne House within the hour, Ranulf in the more luxurious landau in front, Darcy safely hidden in the more practical town carriage.

  Except that gentleman was now obviously angry with her having taken such action.

  Well, she could not help that. Desperate needs called for desperate measures, and Darcy’s need to leave London had been very desperate indeed.

  Besides, Ranulf was at least offering to feed her—and listen further to her plea?—rather than continuing to dismiss her out of hand.

  “Are there no other relatives you might go to for sanctuary?” Ranulf prompted once they had eaten in silence for several minutes.

  Darcy had not given food or water a second thought when she carried out her plan to hide in this man’s carriage, and she was now both ravenously hungry and thirsty. The meat pie, with gravy oozing from within the depths of the delicate pastry, tasted delicious. Likewise, the wine which accompanied the simple meal.

  Her initial ravenous hunger having been satisfied, Darcy now dabbed her lips lightly with her napkin before answering him. “One.”

  “Then why did you not go to them for help?”

  Darcy’s gaze remained fixed on him. “I did.”

  “But— You are referring to me?” Ranulf looked astounded.

  She gave a tight smile at his obvious horror. “You were married to my cousin. That means the two of us are now related by marriage.”

  “I— But— This is preposterous!” Ranulf pushed his chair noisily back from the table before standing to commence pacing the confines of the parlor.

  He realized as he did so that he had allowed himself to be lulled into a false sense of good will and well-being these past few minutes, no doubt from the effects of the ale earlier, good food, and a not too-disgusting flagon of wine.

  The thought had even occurred to him of how pleasant it was to sit at the dinner table with a beautiful young woman rather than eating alone. Darcy Ambridge’s thick and glossy red-gold hair was a perfect foil for her black mourning gown, both revealed when she took off her bonnet and cloak. The dark color gave a glow to the delicate ivory of her skin.

  She was a beautiful young woman who now claimed a familial relationship with him.

  Darcy shrugged narrow shoulders. “Preposterous or not, it is the truth.”