His voice was calm and sure as he addressed the contemptible cur who had given him life. “I’ve got what I want. I mean to leave without causing harm. However, if it’s a choice of Mrs. Carrick or the well-being of you and your lackeys, Burnley, you know my decision.”
“Don’t make this more difficult than it must be, my lord,” Diana said quietly.
Burnley sneered even as he shook with chagrin. “You brainless slut. I offer you greatness, and you choose this whoremonger in my stead. May you rue your decision forever.” He drew himself to his full height, and his glare sparked with spite. “If you imagine your useless lump of a father will keep his house after this, you’re mistaken, madam. And that harlot of a Gypsy can go to hell too.”
Laura rose and curtsied with visible irony to the old man. “I’m much obliged, my lord.” As if she didn’t have a care, she sauntered toward Diana and Ashcroft.
Well said, Miss Smith.
Ashcroft had always liked the girl, right from the first meeting. He now had reason to be eternally grateful to her. “Neither Miss Smith nor Mr. Dean will suffer, Lord Burnley. You forget you deal with a man of equal standing to yourself. There are grave matters outstanding between us, and should I seek legal redress, your name and reputation won’t survive unscathed.”
“You puling puppy!” Temper contorted the old man’s face, and he took a step closer to Ashcroft and Diana although he couldn’t hope to prevail. “You think to threaten me?”
“I think to keep what is mine,” Ashcroft said in a hard voice.
Burnley growled low in his throat. “Take the drab. You’re welcome to her.”
“With pleasure,” Ashcroft said sardonically, although he didn’t lower the pistol. The prospect of revenge still beckoned, but he stifled the impulse.
What was the point? He glanced down at the woman by his side and realized winning was revenge enough.
After this, his enemy had neither family nor wife nor heir of his direct line. His enemy would spend his few remaining days contemplating his abject failure. A fitting end.
“God rot you, whoreson,” the old man snarled, vibrating with rage.
Ashcroft supposed that proved as suitable an epitaph to his relationship with his father as any.
He had a golden future to look forw
ard to. Lord Burnley belonged in the past. Perhaps he should even be grateful—without Burnley’s machinations, Diana would never have come into his life. He bit back an unworthy urge to thank the marquess for presenting him with such a priceless gift.
“Let’s go,” he said softly to Diana.
“There’s nothing more for us here,” she said equally softly, and the smile she sent him conveyed all the things she wanted to say but couldn’t while they had an audience.
Cursing his injuries, he limped toward the church door. Diana walked at his side, one arm around his waist, her head held high and a glow in her expression he’d never seen before. Laura followed them, her pleasure unconcealed.
Outside, his carriage waited. Tobias held the door open as Ashcroft released Diana and pocketed his pistol. “We need to collect your father and take him to London, where he’ll be safe. I’ve got servants waiting outside your house. I don’t trust Burnley not to take revenge beyond evicting him.”
“My father won’t want to leave his home. He’s stubborn,” Diana said, meeting his eyes.
He realized that reaction set in. Diana looked dazed, worried, overwhelmed. When he’d seen her at the altar, he’d been shocked. She’d been pale and drawn, a shadow of the vibrant, spirited woman he recalled. Anyone looking less like a bride was hard to imagine. Briefly, when she’d faced down Burnley, she’d returned to the woman he remembered. But with every moment now, she looked closer to tears.
He wanted to comfort her. He wanted to tell her everything would be fine. But something about her made him keep his distance while they had observers.
And he had an obligation to fulfill. Ashcroft reached to take Miss Smith’s hand. He bowed over it as he would to a great lady. “I owe you more than I can say. Thank you.”
“It was nothing. I knew you and Diana belonged together the first moment I saw you. I can’t explain it.”
“If I hadn’t received your letter, I’d never have known about the marriage. I would have come for her, but it would have been too late.”
Diana frowned in confusion. “Letter?”
Miss Smith straightened and sent her friend a defiant look. “I wrote to Ashcroft the minute you agreed to marry Burnley.”
Shocked, Diana stared at him. “She begged you to come and save me?”
He shook his head. “She just told me the date.”