Tears burst from Mariah’s eyes as she ran into the hall. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she had to get away before she crumbled into dust. Mr. Snyder stood in the dining room doorway and gestured to someone across the hall.

“This way, my lady,” Ginny said from the far end of the vast room.

Mariah fled to her, weeping when Ginny slipped an arm around her shoulders and led her toward the morning parlor at the far end of the hall.

“Mariah,” Peter called after her before they reached the room.

Mariah glanced over her shoulder, not sure if she wanted to run to Peter and collapse into his arms or rail at him for exposing her to a monster like William. She did neither when she saw Captain Tennant and Domenica following him, and let Ginny nudge her on.

Within moments of reaching the parlor, Ginny had Mariah seated on one of the sofas, before she broke away to light the lamps. Peter dashed into the room and came to sit by Mariah’s side, taking her hands. Captain Tennant and Domenica paused just inside the doorway.

“I’ll wring his neck,” Peter growled, pulling Mariah into his arms. “I won’t let him get away with this.”

“How could he say such horrible things?” Mariah cried, planting her forehead on Peter’s shoulder. “And in front of company. How could both of them say such disgusting things?”

“I’ll have Barkley sent away at once,” Peter said.

Mariah felt him nod, then raised her head in time to see Captain Tennant nod back then leave the room.

“And William too,” she said, gripping Peter’s arms. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks. “Send William away too.”

Instead of rushing to make it so, Peter winced, lowering his head. “You know I would if I could.”

Mariah’s throat squeezed tight with anger. “You can and you should.”

He let out a breath and looked up at her. He raised a hand to her cheek, wiping away her tears with his thumb. “Mariah, you know I can’t simply hand half of Starcross Castle to him because of one disgraceful night.”

“Then lock him in a tower.” It seemed so obvious to her. Why couldn’t Peter see it? “Chain him in the dungeon. Just get him away from me.”

“Give it time,” Peter said. “If he sees that he can’t break you, then he’ll get bored and go back to London.”

Mariah wrenched herself away from Peter and stood. She balled her fists at her sides. “I know we haven’t known each other as long as most married couples, but I have a very hard time believing that you would put that bastard of a nephew before our marriage.”

Peter stood, letting out a frustrated breath, and rested his hands on Mariah’s arms. “I’m not putting William before us, believe me.”

“Then do something.” Mariah stomped. She didn’t want to throw a fit, but every moment that ticked by with William still in the house made her feel more and more helpless. “Peter, he is clearly bent on destroying the two of us. How can you not see that?”

“I can see it, I assure you,” he said, his voice deceptively calm.

“Then why aren’t you doing something?”

“I’m doing everything I can,” he argued.

“Were you doing everything you could when he poisoned me?”

“What?” Domenica interjected from the doorway.

Bristling with misery, Mariah glanced past Peter to her. “I became ill last week after eating tainted soup. William was almost certainly responsible.”

“And you have proof of this?” Domenica asked, looking at Peter as though she would start railing at him any moment.

“No,” Peter replied, miserable. “No more than we have proof that William set the fire on Albert’s ship.”

“But we know he set the fire,” Domenica said taking a step toward them.

“And we know William is hell-bent on keeping his status as my heir,” Peter went on. “But we can’t prove that he’s the sole person responsible for the soup. Or the locked doors.”

“We know he is,” Mariah argued. “How long before you end up risking my life for his sake?”

“William doesn’t have it in him to murder you outright,” Peter said.

Domenica huffed as though she disagreed.

Peter frowned at her, then turned back to Mariah with a plea for patience in his eyes. “William wasn’t solely responsible for the fire on Albert’s ship, and if he isn’t acting alone in his attempts to keep the two of us apart, then locking him up will leave an unknown accomplice in the house. An accomplice who would be able to cause mischief whether William was free or shackled to a grate.”

Mariah snapped her mouth shut over the protest she wanted to shout. She spun away from Peter, pacing toward the table where Ginny was lighting the last of the lamps.

“I would do anything to keep you safe, Mariah,” Peter called after her, “but I honestly believe we have no choice but to wait this out and to keep a sharp eye on him.”

Mariah squeezed her eyes shut over the tears that threatened to spill again.

“Is there anything I can do for you, my lady?” Ginny whispered.

Mariah shook her head. “No, there isn’t.” Her voice rose through the sentence, until she turned to glare at Peter. “Apparently there’s nothing that anyone can do.” She marched toward him, unable to fight down the beast of anger that raged within her. “I wasn’t happy in Aylesbury, but I wasn’t being poisoned either.”

“Mariah, please.” Peter reached for her, the lines of his face deep with pain.

The pull to slip into his arms and let him comfort her was almost too strong to resist, but it solved nothing. She shook her head. “He humiliated me in there.” She pointed toward the dining room. “I have been insulted and mortified in front of your friends and neighbors. I can never regain that first impression.”

“If it helps….” Domenica stepped forward. “William and that Lord Barkley are the ones who came off as the fools, not you.”

“William brought up my past,” Mariah went on, blinking to hide the sting in her eyes and appealing to Peter. “And Lord Barkley couldn’t have been more obvious in the way he lay blame for his sister’s death at your feet than if he’d thrown down a gauntlet.”

“Barkley has always been an ass,” Peter said.

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” Mariah shouted at him.

He winced. “I know. But if you could just trust me to know how to manage my nephew, I—”

“Trust you?” Mariah gaped at him. “Since marrying you, I have been laughed at, humiliated in public, and poisoned. How can I trust that if William remains under this roof with me, I won’t meet a worse fate?”

“I would give my life to—”

“How can I believe that?” Mariah cried, pulling away from him. “How can I believe that a man I didn’t know existed a month ago would sacrifice everything for me? And why should I be forced to sacrifice everything for you when you can’t even stop me from being humiliated at a supper party?”

She shook her head and walked away from Peter. The wildness of her emotions overwhelmed her, making her dizzy. She hadn’t recovered from being sick enough to handle the hopeless, miserable situation, and she hadn’t settled into her new life comfortably enough to be confident that all would turn out for the best in the end.

“Perhaps William is right,” she said, her voice shaking, as she turned back to Peter. It broke her heart to see the misery that surrounded him, but at the end of the day, he was still a stranger to her. “Perhaps I should just go home.”

“Please don’t,” Peter said, misery personified. “I will make this right.”

“How?”

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. “I don’t know yet,” he said, squaring his shoulders. “But I will think of something. Just please, don’t go.”

Mariah’s heart felt as though it were being run through a wringer. She knew that Peter was good and kind and passionate, but at that moment, it didn’t feel like enough to build a marriage on.

“William goes,” she said, taking a breath and pressing her hands to her stomach. “Or I do.”

She met his eyes and held them. She wouldn’t be the perpetual child, subject to the whims of the men who controlled her life, anymore. Even if it meant losing the most beautiful surprise she’d ever had. It would have been so easy to give her full heart to Peter, but not if it meant surrendering her pride along with it.

With one last, pleading look, she turned to go.

Peter’s heart shattered as Mariah turned her back on him and marched out of the room. Not once in more than twenty years had Anne bruised him the way that Mariah did. Worst of all, it was entirely his own fault.

“Mariah.”

He started after her, but only made it two steps. Albert crossed paths with Mariah as he strode back into the room, his face as grim as death. “Barkley is gone,” he announced.

“Good.” Peter launched into motion again. “I have to go after her.” His gaze remained fixed on Mariah’s retreating form as she crossed the hall and ran up the stairs.

His focus was so honed in that it was a surprise when Domenica stepped into his path. “Perhaps, my lord, you should let her go for now.”

Peter glared at her, but before he could do something he would regret and raise his voice to a woman, Ginny jumped in with, “I’ll go after her, my lord.” She scurried across the room, wringing her hands in front of her. “Sometimes a woman needs a good cry and another woman to listen to her before she’s in the right spot to see the truth of things.”

The loyal maid’s words brought two kinds of solace to Peter. Mariah was lucky to have Ginny to stand up for her, but more than that, Ginny had heard everything he’d said, and from the sound of things, she agreed with him. But it only went so far to easing the pain that pounded through every part of him.

“Go,” he said, voice hoarse, and nodded.

Ginny curtsied and rushed from the room. Peter was left with an aching sense of emptiness. He pivoted and marched toward the fireplace, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I’ve failed,” he said, leaning against the mantle. “Again, I’ve failed.”

“Don’t say that, my lord.” Domenica crossed the room to his side. “It’s just a fight. Albert and I fight over the silliest things, and we make up the next day.”

Peter gave her a wary smile of thanks, then stood straighter as Albert joined them by the fire.

“She’s right, old friend.” Albert patted his back. “And making up is the best part. I’m sure you and Mariah will be sighing in each other’s arms in no time.”

“Yes,” Peter said with a scowl, pushing away from the fireplace. “Because after Barkley’s display, all of Cornwall will know my maniacal penchant for bedding women half my age.”

“As you said, Barkley is an ass, and everyone knows it.” Albert followed Peter as he returned to the sofa and flopped to sit. “St. Aubyn and Goodman know your true character. They thanked me for sending the lout on his way.”

It was a small consolation, but Peter took no comfort in it. His mind was already churning away at the inescapable problem of William. “Mariah is right,” he said pressing a hand to his temples. “I have to banish William. Our marriage can’t thrive or survive with him here.”

“True.” Albert crossed his arms where he stood beside the sofa as Domenica took a seat on the far end. “But you were absolutely correct when you said that you can’t send him away.”

Peter huffed a humorless laugh. “So that’s it, then. To keep Mariah I have to let her go.”

“He has to,” Domenica argued. “You know what William is capable of. Or do you not remember the way he treated me aboard the Kestrel?”

“That was different,” Albert said. “Peter has everything at stake here, his home, his livelihood, his reputation. Surely, Mariah will see that.”

Peter shook his head. “She shouldn’t have to see anything. She deserves a carefree and happy life. She deserves a husband who makes her happy and a passel of children to make her laugh.” The intensity of the vision his words brought to mind made his heart ache beyond measure. Those were all the things he wanted too, all the things he had dreamed of his entire life. They seemed further out of his reach now than they ever had.

“All right, then let’s approach this one bit at a time. It seems to me that William is the crux of your problems,” Albert said, pacing in front of the sofa while scratching his chin.

Peter came dangerously close to rolling his eyes at his friend. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

Albert ignored his snide tone. “You can’t get rid of him, and yet you can’t keep him here. At least not unless you discover who his agent in the house is.”

“I can have Snyder interview the staff to discover the mole,” Peter said, growing more exhausted by the moment. He wanted to drag himself up to bed, but seeing as there was little chance that Mariah would be there now—or any time in the near future—it hardly seemed worth it.

“Snyder is a good man, and I’m sure he’ll ferret out whoever it is.” Albert nodded.

Peter sighed. “And in the meantime, the longer William stays under this roof, the angrier Mariah will be.”

“She will be furious,” Domenica agreed. She tilted her head to the side as if listening to an idea. “If you are unwilling to take her away from William, you will need to guard her with your life. Be with her as much as possible so that William and his mole don’t have a chance to strike. But that could solve more problems than it creates.”

“How so?”

“Perhaps you should take this opportunity to woo your wife. Your courtship was fast, was it not?”

“It was non-existent,” Peter confessed. “Edmund failed to mention to her that he’d promised her hand to me until the day before I arrived in Aylesbury.”

Albert barked a laugh, then shook his head. “Sorry. It’s just so typically Edmund.” He chuckled.

Having his friend there eased a fraction of the gloom creeping through him, but it couldn’t change his outlook of the situation. “I’m no good at wooing,” he said. “I didn’t have to woo Anne either. My father chose her for me.”

“You’ve never courted a woman?” Domenica asked.

“No.”

“And you’re how old?” Albert asked.

“Don’t you start,” Peter said with a frown.

“It’s clear what you have to do then,” Domenica said. She glanced to Albert, who nodded as though the two of them had discussed the problem at length.

Peter raised his eyebrows in question.

Albert stopped his pacing and stood at attention, as though he were on the prow of a ship. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, yes?”

“Yes?” Peter narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

“So let William continue to think he’s winning his reprehensible little game.”

“Why?” Peter asked through clenched teeth.

“People who think they’re winning let their guard down.”

“How will that help? William won’t stop threatening Mariah unless I flee everything that is rightfully ours, like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs.”

Albert held up a hand as if to soothe Peter’s growing frustration. “Let William think he’s winning,” he repeated, “but bring in reinforcements.”

“Define reinforcements.”

Albert glanced to Domenica. “We’ll stay.”

Domenica smiled. “We will.”

“What, here?” Peter asked.

“That’s the keeping your friends close part,” Albert said with a grim smile. “And if I were you, I’d write to Malcolm and get him involved.”

“Malcolm Campbell?” Peter blinked, then frowned. “Why should I interrupt whatever Malcolm is doing to drag him all the way out here to Cornwall?”

“Because no one is better at rooting out moles than Malcolm,” Albert said. “And besides, isn’t William terrified of him?”

Peter let out a breath and lowered his shoulders. “He is.” A thought struck him, and he smirked. “I can’t throw William out, but Malcolm’s presence might be enough to get him to leave on his own, voluntarily. And if I had witnesses to the fact that he left of his own free will and not because I banished him, even if he did sue for half the estate, he would lose.”

“There you go.” Albert nodded.

“And does Mariah have anyone she might want near her at a time like this? Her mother? A sister?”

“Victoria,” Peter said, a ripple of unease traveling down his spine. “She’s close with her sister Victoria. She’s close to her entire family, if truth be told. I wouldn’t say no to having Edmund on hand right now.”

“Then tell her to write to her family and have them come to stay for a while,” Domenica said, resting a hand on Peter’s knee. “We’ll call it a house party.”

“It sounds like a lark.” Albert smiled as though his wife had suggested they go on safari in Africa.

“I’ll send the invitations right away,” Peter said, starting for the door.

“Before or after your dinner party finishes?” Albert asked, his mouth twitching.

Peter nearly groaned. The idea of entertaining what remained of his guests, baffled as they must be by the way the evening had gone, was torture. But if he was going to save even a little bit of face, for Mariah’s sake, he had to march back into battle. Sebastopol hadn’t been as daunting as his dining room was that evening.

“After supper,” he said, starting toward the door, Albert and Domenica in tow. “And starting tomorrow, if there’s any way to make things right with Mariah short of cutting off my arm, I’ll find it.”