“The betrayal hit him like a sledgehammer straight to the gut. Every last doubt that Emma had laid to rest with her sweet and passionate response just now came roaring back to life. Yes, and hadn’t she declared her intentions outright? Behave to her standards, indeed. Only a fool would take that statement at face value. Well, paint one Rowan Battencliffe in motley and put a belled hat on his head. He grabbed Dysart by the lapels. “Good God, man. Don’t just stand there. Crawley’s here.” Not only ...that, he’d spotted the bastard talking to Emma earlier. “Fetch the magistrate.” Expression hardening, Dysart raised both palms outward and took a pointed step back. “Don’t manhandle the togs, or it’ll cost ye. The magistrate won’t do ye no good. Crawley’s left or I’d’ve trussed him up for ye. Might’ve added a bow if I could persuade a young lady to lend me a ribbon.” “Damn it!” And if Rowan hadn’t been all fired up to have his wife, he might have experienced the pleasure of knocking the stuffing out of Crawley in front of the entire ballroom.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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