The Governess (Wicked Wallflowers, #3)(68)

Lord Oliver set his glass down on the ledge behind him and then yanked out a kerchief to dab at that slight wound she’d made on his throat. “With you?” he scoffed. “What would I want with you, the whore who robbed me?”

“You bastard,” she spat. “I didn’t rob you.”

He chuckled. “It doesn’t escape my notice that you do not dispute being a whore.”

Shame came, hot, swift, and with a stingingly familiar force. For there could be no disputing what she’d done in the past . . . what she’d given to this man. What she’d been. Before Broderick had taken her in and let her carve a new beginning.

For all the anger she’d carried these past days, love swelled within her breast for every gift he’d given, and more for the strength he’d helped her find within herself. And for those gifts, she could not see him harmed. Not even to spare herself. “You have one minute,” she warned, “and then I’m leaving.”

He frowned.

Yes, of course, dukes didn’t partake in discourse. They spoke, and the world listened and didn’t volunteer a word edgewise. Reggie, however, didn’t belong to this world. She never would. Nor did she wish to. Not even when she’d believed herself in love with him.

“Mr. Killoran wants a title for his sister.”

She stiffened. Of all the things she’d expected from his treachery . . . that had been the last she’d anticipated. And yet why should it be? Why should his motives in seeking out Reggie, Gertrude’s companion, knock her aback? “No,” she said curtly before he could put another word forward.

The duke flicked an imagined scrap of lint from his midnight-black sleeve. “I didn’t put my request to you.”

“You request nothing,” she snapped. “You take what you want and give nothing in return.”

“Yes,” he acknowledged unapologetically. “Generally, that has been my way. That is a luxury afforded dukes. This time, however, is different.”

A warning knocked around the back of her head. No!

He spoke, confirming her dark suspicion. “I’ve lost my fortune.”

“To whores, wagers, and drink,” she spat.

He smiled. “Indeed. However, I now find myself in need . . . of funds.”

Reggie’s mouth moved with no words coming out. She was already shaking her head. “No.”

“I’m not asking you.” He stroked a finger down her right cheek, flesh that had suffered so many blows from the very hand he worked over her face now. “I’m telling you.”

She stumbled away from him, knocking against the back wall and toppling onto the bench.

“I’m going to court her and make her my duchess.”

Her stomach heaved, vomit climbing her throat.

“Over my dead body.”

He laughed softly and leaned down, erasing the distance between them, making the already-small space of the alcove narrower and darker.

She flinched, but he merely flicked her nose. “I can arrange that. A whore who robbed me years ago and lived the years in between as a gaming hell owner’s mistress? Killoran wouldn’t survive the scandal, and you?” He scraped a derisive glance up and down her frame. “You simply wouldn’t survive.”

Her tongue felt heavy in her mouth. “What do you want from me?”

“Your silence. And I’m so generous, Regina, that I’m willing to not only spare you but also pay you.”

“Pay me?” she echoed.

“Word is that Killoran would pay anywhere up to seventy-five thousand pounds for the man who takes the blind one off his hands.”

Fury blazed through her, and she proved herself more ruthless than she’d ever dared believe. For she wanted to stick a knife through his vile heart and spare any woman his evil.

Encouraged by her silence, he continued. “All I want is a promise of your silence, and some . . . backing on your part. It is my understanding you are close with Miss Killoran.”

Her teeth chattered. He’d have her betray Gertrude. Nay, he’d have her betray all the Killorans.

“I can’t do it,” she whispered. Gertrude would be crushed and destroyed as Reggie herself had been at the hands of this monster. And then when she was, Broderick would gladly kill him in return and find himself on a hangman’s noose either way. Because he’d never, ever let his sister be bullied about by any person—man, woman, or the king himself.

He touched a finger to her lips, and she flinched away from that hated touch. “Take a week to think on it,” he went on as if she hadn’t spoken.

A week? “There’s nothing to think—”

“I understand you are in the process of establishing a business?”

No.

Reggie’s hands went to her throat.

“How very . . . quaint.” His lip peeled in a mocking sneer. As quick as that harsh smile had come, it faded. “Come, Regina,” he soothed in those same calming, tender tones he’d used after she’d been beaten and bloodied on the floor at his feet. “It will be good for everyone,” he vowed. “Killoran will have a duchess as a sister.”

Reggie lifted her chin, daring him with her eyes and next words. “And if I say no?”

He laughed softly, and Reggie darted her gaze about. Her heart pounded with the fear of discovery. “My goodness. You’ve grown bold over the years. What if you say no?” he repeated, his tone dripping with mockery. “There’s nothing for you to say yes or no to. What you’ll do is remain silent about our having known one another.”