Hero, Come Back (Cynster 9.50)

Lady Farleigh made a choking sound, her gloved hand covering her mouth. “Thank heavens we left Regina in the carriage so she wouldn’t witness this…this…atrocity. Oh, we are ruined, utterly so!” She spun around to Lady Finch. “I blame you, Evaline Reyburn! My daughter was the epitome of good sense and moral fiber until she came into your son’s lascivious clutches. Why, I wouldn’t doubt he lured her from our home by some fiendish trickery.”

Lady Finch buried her face in her gloves and shook her head.

“Reyburn, you come out from there immediately,” Lord Farleigh said, rattling the iron bars. “I demand satisfaction.”

Amanda was glad that Holmes hadn’t managed to get past his shock and dismay at his prisoners in the same cell, to unlock the door yet. There was no telling what worse debacle would ensue given her father’s current state.

Jemmy caught up the extra blanket, and with some dexterity, wound it around his waist, and stood to face the viscount. Amanda had to admire his mettle. There weren’t many people who dared stand up to her father in one of his “states,” as her mother liked to call them.

“

Sir,” he began. “I am not going to meet you on some grassy knoll. I hardly think that will accomplish—”

“Who said anything about a duel?” Lord Farleigh blurted out. “I want you out of there and before the archbishop this very morning. Your rakish days are over, you rapscallion. You will marry my daughter immediately! And you will take her without a farthing. I’ll not be throwing good money after bad.”

Amanda groaned. Leave it to her father to get to his most fundamental concern. His money.

And besides, she wasn’t about to see Jemmy forced to marry her. It seemed a moot point considering how little time she had left. “Father, there will be no wedding!”

“No wedding? You’ve gone mad, gel. You’ll be wed this very afternoon,” Lord Farleigh declared.

“No, I will not,” she said, struggling to sit up and keep herself covered. It was the first time in her life she could ever remember defying him, but she hadn’t been about to be bartered off by the matchmaker, and she certainly wasn’t about to be bullied into a wedding by her father.

“What did you say?” he asked, his features incredulous that anyone would contradict him.

“I will not marry Mr. Reyburn.” Amanda remained firmly rooted in place. Though it did help to have a locked iron door between them.

“You damned well will—” he sputtered, shaking his fist at her.

Jemmy spun around and stared at her. He had much the same murderous look on his face that her father’s held. “And why not? What the devil is wrong with marrying me?”

She smiled at him. “You know very well why I won’t marry you.”

“It matters not to me if you are dying,” he told her. “I have every intention of marrying you and have since…well, I suppose since I met you.” Then he grinned. “The second time, that is.”

“But can’t you see? It is because I am dying that I can’t marry you.” Amanda couldn’t bind herself to him, only to leave him so quickly.

“Dying?” Lady Farleigh asked. “Who is dying?”

Amanda shot a glance over her shoulder. “Mother, I know what the doctor told you. I overheard, well, I was eavesdropping and heard him tell you that I hadn’t long to live.”

“You were eavesdropping?” her mother asked, as if that were the worst tragedy before her. “What has happened to you, Hortensia? You used to be such a docile, decent girl. Now you’re eavesdropping and gadding about the countryside, and… and…” The lady looked down at the makeshift cot on the floor and the discarded clothing and shuddered. “And now this? Have you not thought, Hortensia, what this will mean to your sister’s chances this Season?”

“Hortensia?” Jemmy asked, glancing at her.

Amanda cringed. “ ’Tis my first name. Amanda is my middle name.”

“Still, Hortensia?” He shook his head. “It doesn’t fit you in the least.”

“So I’ve said for years,” she replied, glad to hear that someone finally agreed with her on that point of contention.

Lady Farleigh let out a long-suffering sigh. “There is nothing wrong with the name Hortensia. She was named after Lord Farleigh’s aunt, who offered to dower one of our daughters if we used her name.”

“And then changed her mind,” Amanda shot back.

“Only because she said you’d never need it,” Lord Farleigh said. “Come up to no good, she told us, and she was right.”

“It is hardly my fault that I’m dying,” Amanda replied.