Wild Lily (Those Notorious Americans Book 1)(48)

“Mr. Hanniford.” Julian stepped up to them. “I would not hurt her.”

“Is that so?” he asked with disbelief in his tone. “A hideous way to prove it.”

“Papa, please.” Lily squeezed her father’s forearm. “Don’t argue. Take me back. I wish to return to London.”

“No, Lily. You can’t.”

“But—”

“Sir, hear me out,” Julian pleaded. “I wish to marry Lily.”

She met Julian’s gaze, her heart bleeding. “No, he doesn’t.” Not for love or money.

Her father huffed. “How good of you, Lord Chelton.”

“I was proposing to her before my father arrived and interfered.”

Wasn’t it more a litany of reasons why he wouldn’t ever marry her?

Her father stared down at her. “You’ll marry him.”

“No!” She stepped backward. “This is outrageous.”

“I agree,” her father said.

“You can’t make me.”

“It’s best, my dear.” He looked older, defeated. “The circumstances are such.”

She’d never seen him without a swagger. “How can you say that, Papa? You agreed to let me choose my own husband.”

“By your actions here tonight, Lily, you have chosen.”

She shook her head vehemently. “I—”

“I forbid the marriage,” said the duke.

Julian confronted him. “Are you mad?”

The duke gave his son a sardonic smile. “I warned you.”

Julian glared at his father, then turned to hers with wildness that cast his features in stone. “He’s scheming, trying to manipulate us all. I won’t let him.”

“Intriguing. How so?” asked her father.

“He wants a higher price for the shipping company. Wanted me to negotiate again with you to persuade you. I refused. He’s angry at the loss. Angry that I’d court Lily in my own way. Angry that he’s penniless, by his own folly.”

Her father pursed his lips and studied the duke. “So you’ll not give your consent to their marriage unless…what? I offer a higher price on stock?”

The duke lifted on his toes, preening like a fool. “I’d say you have the right of it.”

Her father shot a look at Julian. “You must be of age.”

“I will be thirty-one June first, sir.”

“Do you own stock in the shipping company?”

“No, sir.”

“Splendid. Send your lawyer to me for transfer of Lily’s dowry.”

Lily gasped.

Julian went white as a sheet. “I will, yes.”

“Well, then, Seton.” Her father seemed without joy as he looked at the duke. “We have a wedding to plan.”

Julian beamed at her father. “Thank you, sir.”

Lily shrank away from them. “You cannot sell me.”

Her father glared at her. “You consented to too much tonight. I do not sell you, dearest, as ensure you will live without disgrace.”

The duke lurched forward, his face ruby red. “You need my approval!”

“He’s right,” proclaimed the duchess with overweening pride. “Society will expect it. If Julian were to marry her, the chit would need my entre to the ton. And then there is the unfortunate possibility that this instance of riding at midnight and the seduction in my son’s parlor would get out.”

Julian seethed. “You wouldn’t dare put that abroad.”

She tut-tutted him. “Don’t be na?ve, dear one. Servants talk, you know it.”

Julian cursed broadly. “I thought you were a hellcat, but I’d no idea how unscrupulous you were. You’d do this for money? Renounce decency?”

Lily could bear no more. She’d heard of families who starved because they drank away their wages or gambled the gold from their teeth. But the hypocrisy of the duke and duchess cut her like a knife. Did the son fall far from this tree—or could she trust Julian in spite of what was said and done here? “I don’t want anything from any of you. Not acceptance, not titles, not money—and not marriage.”

Julian caught her hands. “That’s not true. I want you.”

“Listen to him, Lily,” her father urged. “This rejection does you no good.”

She yanked away. “No.”

“I’ll not have scandal on my doorstep, Lily. I told you that before. I warned you. This is as much your doing as Lord Chelton’s. Fix it.”

“No, no,” the duke persisted. “I won’t approve of it.”

“Quiet, Seton. You’ll have your price for the sale.” Her father patted her hand and led her more snuggly by his side. “I’ll have my daughter wed with all due respect. You will approve. And you, Your Grace,” he said to the duchess with a murderous look over the rims of his glasses, “will put no rumors of this night out to anyone. Understood?”

With an indignant lift of her chin, the woman demurred. “As you wish.”

He looked at Julian. “How soon is a wedding possible without feeding the gossips?”

“The banns should be read in church for three Sundays.”