Her Reformed Rake (Wicked Husbands #3)(28)
How accustomed he was, she thought, to his life of aristocratic privilege. A duke commanded a certain respect from everyone. From his fellow peers, from his servants. It seemed Daisy was the only one who didn’t hold her husband in awe.
“The gentleman in question claims to be Her Grace’s father,” Giles informed in hushed tones, his gaze darting from Daisy to the duke.
How odd this entire tableau must appear, she thought wryly as a sick feeling of foreboding unfurled within her. She tensed in the same way she always had before a reckoning with her father. This time, he would not be able to strike her.
Would he?
She swallowed, and everything around her seemed to slow to a torpid pace. She was hyperaware of every sound, from the uncharacteristic shuffling of a footman’s feet to the footsteps approaching down the hall. The angry, heavy footfalls of her father.
Daisy would recognize them anywhere.
He stalked around the corner, his gaze lighting on her, fury blazing from his every pore. “You disgraceful harlot!” he shouted.
The world became small all of a sudden. Everything revolved around the white-haired man tearing toward her like a wild bull. A black circle clouded her vision. Dizziness assailed her. A rushing sounded in her ears. She’d thought she’d prepared herself for seeing him again. But she had not. Her reaction was as terrifying and helpless as ever.
“Father,” she whispered. He came toward her, faster than she would have expected, while she stood rooted to the floor, gasping in air, panic making her heart pound and her mouth go dry. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t defend herself. He raised his fist. And she closed her eyes, bracing for the inevitable blow.
Sebastian remained rather foggy from his nocturnal drinking session with Griffin. Not to mention that his head was pounding. But he could still throw a goddamn punch like the warrior he was. Boxing sessions kept him at peak performance. So when he saw Daisy’s bastard of a father storming toward her with the clear intent of striking her, his instincts went into action.
He threw himself in front of her, unadulterated rage charging through him as he caught Vanreid’s fist in a manacle-like grip midair. His other hand caught the son-of-a-bitch’s necktie and yanked, closing off his air supply. Carlisle’s careful instructions regarding the man vanished from Sebastian’s mind, dispelled by a combination of drink and raw emotion.
It didn’t matter that he risked his cover and reputation both. Nor did he give a damn that he wasn’t meant to bring undue attention to himself since doing so could endanger their mission. All that did matter was the need to protect Daisy, fierce and swift and all-consuming.
“You will never again,” he bit out, stark fury sharpening everything into focus, “raise a hand against my wife. Do you understand me, Vanreid?”
The man was tall, strapping as an ox, but he was no match for Sebastian’s superior strength. His face went red as he choked for air and struggled to unsuccessfully remove Sebastian’s hand from his necktie. He wondered how a delicate, graceful beauty like Daisy had come from such a beast.
“Never again,” he repeated, watching with grim satisfaction as his opponent continued to fight for breath. For a moment, some wild fiend deep within him imagined tightening his hold and not relenting until the swine succumbed. There was a quicker, cleaner manner of choking a man, however, one that required far less effort. And in general, it was a poor plan to commit murder before one’s servants.
He released Vanreid at last, stepping back and drawing Daisy into a protective embrace at his side. They faced her father as a unified front, and though nothing was as it seemed, Sebastian knew that he’d do anything to keep her from ever returning to this brute’s dubious clutches.
Vanreid gasped for breath, his eyes burning them both like hot coals. “You’ve married her?”
Belatedly, it occurred to Sebastian that—like committing murder—engaging in sensitive dialogue was not well done before servants. Their current audience consisted of a wide-eyed chambermaid, two footmen, and Giles. Perhaps consuming a vast quantity of spirits the night before had been ill-advised after all. His head began pounding, and everything else had vanished in the face of Vanreid’s ugly intrusion.
He cleared his throat and cast a meaningful glance toward his domestics. “Perhaps we should adjourn to a more private chamber, Mr. Vanreid.”
A stern look from Giles was all it required for the servants to disperse with quiet but respectful haste. Sebastian, Vanreid, and Daisy stood alone in the eerie quiet, each reeling in a different fashion, he suspected, from the events of the day.
Vanreid’s color had returned to normal, but he was still quite obviously livid. “I would prefer to have an audience with my daughter alone.”
Sebastian cast a glance at Daisy, who had been markedly silent during the entire exchange. She was wide-eyed and wan. Being in the presence of her sire had taken the wind from her sails. The hand he had placed on the small of her back absorbed a tremble.
“There will be no audience with my wife,” he snapped. No chance for the blighter to punish Daisy. No chance for him to harm her ever again. “You will speak before me or no one.”
Vanreid’s lip curled into a sneer. “Who do you think you are? I could have you arrested for your conduct! Pawing at her in a public place, abducting her for a secret wedding. Good God, I haven’t even any proof this marriage is valid.”