Rafe smiled. “My mind ain’t devious enough to imagine such a vile thing on my own, Silwood. The choice is yours. You can accept my impending marriage with Lady Persephone, or you can suffer the consequences for what you’ve done.”
By one means or another, Rafe had every intention of forcing Lord Silwood to pay for his sins. But first, he needed to be certain he had extricated Persephone from the bastard’s clutches without fear of reprisal. He did not need her inheritance by any means. He had plenty of his own coin thanks to The Sinner’s Palace. However, the funds were hers by right, and he would be damned if he would allow them to continue supporting a despicable wastrel.
The marquess was clearly at war with himself. His greed made him want to fight to keep Persephone and her wealth in his control. But his sense of self-preservation made him question Rafe’s claims about the scandal journal.
“Do not doubt me, Silwood,” he advised. “The scandal journal will be more than happy to print every despicable detail, and you’ll be ostracized from polite society. And when Lady Persephone pursues the matter of all the coin you’ve thieved… I don’t need to tell you it ain’t going to go well for you, Marquess.”
“I am marrying Mr. Sutton,” Persephone said then, “with or without your permission.”
“Defying me is not wise,” Silwood cautioned her. “I am a dangerous enemy to have.”
Ha! The bastard had convinced Persephone that he would dare to have Rafe killed. But Rafe knew differently. And he had his own protection in the guards at The Sinner’s Palace. Even supposing the marquess was able to hire someone to go after Rafe, there were risks he was willing to take in the name of the woman he loved. Keeping her from the clutches of her vile cousin did not require second thought. Nor did making her his wife.
“The only dangerous enemy to have is a Sutton,” he told the marquess. “You trifle with me, and you trifle with the whole bleeding family, Silwood. There’s a warning from me to you, and that’s the last one you’ll receive. The next time I have to tell you, it ain’t going to be pretty and polite.”
“I am not afraid of a lowborn rookeries rat like you.” Silwood’s lip curled into a sneer.
He gave the marquess his most lethal smile. “You ought to be, arsehole.”
Once more, Silwood’s nostrils flared. He turned to Persephone, his hands clenched in impotent fists at his sides. “You have a choice to make, my dear. Marry me and hold your head high as the Marchioness of Silwood, or marry this swine and lower yourself to the mud with him.”
Persephone raised her chin, regal and beautiful and so very strong. “Mr. Sutton is a better man than you could ever hope to be. I could know no greater honor than becoming his wife.”
Pride swelled in Rafe’s heart, along with love. “There’s your answer, Silwood. If you dare to cause any problems for her, you’ll be answering to me and all the rest of the Suttons.”
“The Winters as well,” said Devereaux Winter as he crossed the threshold, unsmiling. “I trust I need not tell you how poorly it will go for you if you attempt to cause any trouble for Lady Persephone concerning her trust when she reaches five-and-twenty. My solicitor is prepared to aid her in her cause.”
“You will regret this,” Silwood vowed, bitterness lacing his voice as his eyes traveled the room, lingering longest on Persephone.
“No.” She shook her head, smiling. “I can assure you I will not.”
“Get out of my home, Silwood,” Winter said curtly, an order rather than a request.
The marquess, having been dismissed and denied what he had been determined was already his, was left silently fuming. And without recourse, too. For a man who thrived on power, this must be a truly low moment. How Rafe wished he could plant the bastard a facer. But he was doing his damnedest to do everything right for Persephone’s sake.
“Do not come begging me for another chance when you realize the mistake you have made,” the marquess bit out, before offering a mocking bow.
“I shan’t,” Persephone assured him wryly.
As the marquess took his leave, Persephone’s fingers tentatively sought Rafe’s at his side. A deep, thrilling sense of possibility came over him. After the weeks spent without her, the relief was enough to make his bleeding knees quake. Not that he would ever admit as much aloud.
“I can’t begin to thank you enough,” he told Devereaux Winter.
Winter gave him a small smile. “Reserve your gratitude for my lovely wife. She adores nothing so much as aiding a love match.”
“Thank you both,” Persephone said. “I shall never forget your kindness.”
Winter cleared his throat, looking a bit uncomfortable with all the gratitude being directed toward him. But then, Rafe reckoned it was not every day that an East End rogue and a sunset-haired lady had a verbal duel with a despicable marquess in his drawing room.
“We are pleased to help,” said Lady Emilia Winter, beaming as she crossed the threshold of the drawing room to stand beside her husband. “We are almost family. Suttons have become treasured friends of the Winters, and, Lady Persephone, my parents held yours in highest regard.”
“Still, you would not have had to involve yourselves,” Persephone countered, “and risk my cousin’s wrath.”
Devereaux Winter smiled for the first time, and his expression said everything Rafe needed to know about how the man had come to rule such an impressive empire. “I can assure you, Lady Persephone, it is the wrath of the Suttons and Winters he ought to fear, not the other way around. Lord Silwood’s pride has been badly bruised, but he will discover quickly that he cannot bully those who are more powerful than he.”
“And if he does not?” Persephone asked, clearly still fretting.
But then, he could not find fault in her fears. She had spent nearly seven years of her life hiding from the man, fearing him and the power he wielded over her. For that power to so suddenly be severed would require time for her to accept. And he would be here for her, in whatever manner she needed.