The hour was unfashionably—indeed scandalously—early, and she hadn’t brought a chaperone. The butler lifted his eyebrow faintly when she requested to see Mandeville, but he showed her into the sitting room readily enough. Hero paced to the mantel and stared sightlessly at some Mandeville ancestor’s portrait. What she planned to do would infuriate Maximus, nullify their bargain, and put Griffin in danger. After talking to Thomas, she would have to go to Maximus and throw herself on his mercy. Perhaps if she promised to—
Thomas opened the door.
He crossed to her immediately, his handsome features worried. “What is it, my dear? Has something happened?”
Now that he was before her, tall and imposing, Hero found she had trouble putting together the words. “I…” She cleared her throat and looked about the room. A group of chairs sat together in one corner. “I need to talk to you. Will you be seated?”
He blinked and she fought down nervous laughter. No doubt he was rarely if ever told to take a seat in his own home—or anywhere else for that matter. He was a marquess. What she was about to do suddenly made her quail. Before she could change her mind, she hurried to the chairs and sat down. Mandeville followed more slowly, frowning now.
Hero waited until he sat across from her and then just said it. “I cannot marry you.”
He shook his head, his expression clearing. “My dear, such bridal nerves are common, even for a woman as level-headed as you. Don’t worry that—”
“No,” she said, causing him to abruptly close his mouth. “I’m not suffering from nerves or… or any kind of womanly hysteria. I simply cannot marry you.”
She bit her lip as he stared at her.
“I am sorry,” she offered belatedly, conscious that she was making a hash of this.
He stiffened at her apology, possibly realizing for the first time that she was serious. “Perhaps if you explain to me the problem, I can help.”
Oh, Lord, if only he weren’t so reasonable!
She looked down at her hands. “I’ve simply come to the understanding that… that we won’t do together.”
“Is it something I’ve done?”
“No!” She looked up quickly, leaning forward earnestly. “You’re everything a lady could hope for in a husband. This has nothing to do with you. It’s me, I’m afraid. I just can’t marry you.”
He shook his head. “The marriage contracts have been drawn up and our engagement announced. It’s too late to change your mind, my dear. You protest otherwise, but I believe this is simply a case of bridal anxiety. Perhaps if you go home and rest, spend the day abed with some tea. I do feel—”
“I’m not a virgin any longer, Thomas.”
His head reared back as if she’d struck him. “My dear…”
“I can’t with good conscience marry you,” she said softly. “It would not be fair to you.”
For a moment he simply stared at her, and she thought he’d realized that this was final.
Then he spoke.
“I cannot pretend joy at this news,” he began ponderously. “But it isn’t as earth-shattering as all that. I will, of course, want to wait long enough to make sure any offspring is mine, but—”
Dear God, but she wanted to scream! “I lay with your brother, Thomas.”
He stared at her, his face slowly going red.
She stood. “I’ve compromised myself and sacrificed both my virtue and perhaps more importantly my self-worth. I’m sorry, Thomas. You do not deserve this. If I’d—”
One moment she was babbling and he was staring at her stony-faced. In the next he was towering over her, his expression red and awful and completely terrifying. She had only a second of fear.
And then he struck her full in the face.
GRIFFIN MOUNTED THE steps of Mandeville House, his mind in a weary fog. Was this what grief was—a mind-numbing fatigue? It seemed so to him. He’d spent the night burying Nick. He’d paid for a coffin and burial clothes, a plot and headstone, and he watched all alone as Nick had been lowered into that cold grave. Then Griffin had returned to his still and begun making arrangements to destroy the Vicar. Just a few days more and everything would be in place to bring down the Vicar and avenge Nick. Just a few more days and then he could rest.
But in the meantime, he had other duties to attend to. This morning he was to escort Mater to the shops to pick out a settee or sideboard or some other frippery. Why she had to do her shopping so blasted early in the morning he wasn’t sure, but she’d been quite adamant about the time.
He nodded to the butler as he entered. “Where’s my brother?”