“Who,” Daphne countered, “would believe the ravings of ‘an old peasant,’ as you just termed her?”
“Even so, I do not trust you, madam,” he almost hissed.
At his savage tone, both Cornelius and Isabella moved closer to Rachel’s side, hovering protectively, as if to show strength in numbers. Skye found herself instinctively closing ranks as well.
But Daphne, who knew her brother best, chimed in. “Please believe me, Edgar, I am not after your fortune, even if you have always been a nipcheese with mine.”
From Edgar’s perspective, his worry was understandable, Skye thought. Daphne had been left a modest dowry and portion by her father, but Edgar controlled the purse strings and was exceedingly stingy.
“I will never believe you,” he insisted.
Rachel intervened with a rational explanation. “Lord Farnwell, I will not need your fortune. I have been living very simply in a cottage all these years and have very modest needs.”
“Now you claim you have no desire to improve your station? You are living in a virtual palace”—he glanced around the elegantly refurbished drawing room—“and you prefer a cottage to this luxury?”
The sneer was back in his tone, but this time it held a tinge of jealousy of Hawk’s inherited wealth. Briefly Skye met Hawk’s gaze and saw his gray eyes glittering with irony. Farnwell had no idea of the trials Hawk had suffered and was still facing.
Then Rachel continued in a milder voice, “Cottage or palace makes no difference. And even if it did, I am now engaged to wed Lord Cornelius Wilde. He has fortune enough to keep me in luxury should I crave it.”
After a start at her mother’s sudden announcement, Daphne looked only faintly surprised. Perhaps she had guessed at Rachel’s affection for Cornelius after witnessing them together for the past sennight, although they had maintained their pretense of being merely old friends until they considered her ready to accept the news.
Rather than be comforted, Farnwell resorted to genuine hostility. “I have a better solution. You should stay dead!”
Rachel looked startled herself. “Wh-what do you mean?”
“Your vow to keep quiet is not good enough. You need to leave England and return to wherever you have been hiding.”
Skye felt herself bristling. Daphne had said her brother tended to become abusive and threatening when he didn’t get his own way, and his tone as he berated Rachel bore that out.
Surprisingly, however, his demeanor only stiffened Rachel’s spine. “I will not be forced to leave England again,” she said quietly.
When Farnwell took a step toward her, Cornelius let out a low growl and moved between them, his stance rigid, his hands curled into fists warningly as he faced down the baron. Skye was taken aback to see her mild-mannered, scholarly uncle prepared to employ physical violence. But he had also waited twenty-five years to defend the love of his life, and that failure would have grated on his soul as a man.
“She has suffered inexcusably at your vile father’s hand,” Cornelius bit out before Rachel laid a calming hand on his arm.
“Thank you, my dear, but I have quailed for too long and am determined to stand up for myself.” With consummate dignity, she addressed Farnwell. “I have already wasted over half my life living in fear, my lord. I will not do so any longer.”
Skye silently applauded Rachel’s refusal to leave timidly or quietly. But there was no need for her to fear an abusive bully anymore, either. She now had wealthy, powerful supporters—Lord Cornelius and the entire Wilde family, as well as the Earl of Hawkhurst.
His complexion flushing red, Farnwell stared at the company, but when he brandished his own fists at Cornelius, Hawk stepped in.
“I don’t advise it,” he warned softly.
Farnwell was livid by now, but evidently he thought better of starting a brawl.
“My majordomo will escort you from the premises,” Hawk added in a silken drawl.
The baron not only looked outraged but flabbergasted. “You are ordering me off your property? Me?”
“Indeed. And I will advise my servants to keep you off permanently. You return at your own peril.”
Hawk’s eyes were like slate as he stared down the baron. Farnwell was clearly furious but helpless.
With a strangled sound, he abruptly capitulated. Brushing past the others, he stalked across the drawing room and flung open the door. With a final seething glance behind him, he quit the room.
“Pray excuse me a moment,” Hawk murmured before following Farnwell, no doubt to instruct the castle servants to make certain he left the premises. Skye highly approved of the precaution. Hawk was taking no chances that the baron would take his anger out on Rachel.
Although no one was ready to say the issue was resolved, there was a visible relief of tension at his retreat. Rachel exhaled a long breath while Cornelius’s stance relaxed.