“Thank you. But I was talking about after the wedding, when I leave . . .”
“Honeymoons don’t last forever. Don’t I know it. And you can rest easy while you’re gone, knowing we’ll treat these lovelies like the King’s own.” He patted the Cleveland Bay he’d been leading soundly on the neck. “Isn’t that right, Lister?”
Honeymoon? She wasn’t the one going on a honeymoon. Herbert, the groom, had confused her with Lord Lyndhurst’s fiancée. Why would Mr. Gates do the same? A sick feeling rose from the pit of her stomach. Lady Alice was Lyndy’s sister, not his bride to be, as Stella had assumed. Where is she, this fiancée? Where is her family? Is she in London, only days before the wedding? Why don’t I know her name?
Because Daddy had never mentioned it.
“Miss Kendrick, are you well?”
Stella struggled to retain her composure as she tasted bile in her mouth. “Would you mind telling me the name of the viscount’s fiancée?”
Alarm flashed across the coachman’s face, and Stella knew the truth. It all made sense: Daddy’s generous invitation to her to accompany him to England, his insistence that Tully be brought along, the need for Aunt Rachel to chaperone, the reaction of the Searlwyns, everything.
Daddy’s wealth couldn’t gain him respect in American high society, so he had arranged to secure the one thing that would accomplish that: a British title. Quite the coup for the son of a coachman. But she was to pay the price.
“Her name is Miss Stella Kendrick, of Kentucky, of course,” Lord Lyndhurst said, stepping out from the shadows. “It might’ve been Miss Gladys Vanderbilt—Papa was introduced to her uncle William some time ago—but she’s not out yet. For that I’m glad. You’re by far the prettier of the two.”
His jest fueled her anger. It was a jest, wasn’t it? His attempt at flattery was insulting. She looked to Mr. Gates to confirm what the viscount claimed. The pity in his eyes emboldened her. Daddy wasn’t going to make her do this.
“Be glad you have an alternative in Miss Vanderbilt, Lord Lyndhurst. I’m not an option!” As she swiveled around, she caught the heel of her boot in a crack in the cobblestones and fell to her knees. Though she was angry and had never felt more wretched in her life, she had no choice but take Lord Lyndhurst’s offered hand. She brushed at the clumps of mud and bits of straw clinging to her skirt, hoping to salvage what little dignity she had left.
“He’s not going to make me do this,” she muttered as she took off running toward the house, tendrils of hair loosening and flying about her head. Clutching her skirt in her fists, she lifted it to run faster. Gravel kicked up behind her as she raced around a bend in the lane and ran right into her father. Bouncing backward off his protruding belly as he stood his ground like a mule, Stella flapped her arms about, trying to maintain her balance. She looked ridiculous. If she wasn’t so upset, Stella would’ve laughed.
“What on earth? Look at you. You’re a mess.”
“You’ve gone too far this time, Daddy,” she said, finding her balance and planting her boot heels on the gravel path.
“Where have you been? The stables, no doubt.”
“I won’t do it, Daddy. I won’t marry Lord Lyndhurst.”
“What woman wouldn’t want to? He’s an excellent match.”
He stepped closer and smiled. It sent a chill up her back, but she was too angry to be afraid. Stella’s chest tightened; it was difficult to exhale. Her father gave her his sharp tongue more than his affection, but she’d always hoped it was because he wanted the best for her. Now she knew the truth.
“But you tricked me. You made me believe you wanted me on this trip.”
“You were the reason for the trip.”
“But Tully, Daddy! You gave Lord Lyndhurst my horse.”
“I brought that horse all the way from Kentucky for you.” To ride while she was in England, he had said. Because he never intended for her to leave. “Would you rather I had left her in Kentucky?” They both knew the answer to that.
“I’d rather—”
“Why aren’t you thanking me? I gave you Tully. Now I’m giving you to Lord Lyndhurst.” Like a horse. “You know, I did this for your own good. Someone had to see to your future. You certainly weren’t making much of an effort. Time is running out, girl. You are twenty-two years old. What do you think happens to old maids? Do you want to end up like Rachel? Is that what you want?”
Great-Aunt Rachel had lived at the whim of others her entire life, always being expected to care for others, first, her elderly parents, then an ailing cousin, and then Stella, after her mother died. She’d never had a permanent home. She’d never had children of her own.
“But here you’ll be a viscountess. You’ll have everything you could ever dream of.”
“I won’t,” Stella whispered. Despair had replaced her anger. If he was going to treat her like a horse, she was going to be as stubborn as one.
“And don’t worry. After you’ve done your duty and given the man an heir, he’ll find someone else’s bed to sleep in,” he said, as if promising Lord Lyndhurst would take a mistress was supposed to make her feel better.
“I won’t marry the viscount, Daddy.”
“You ungrateful little brat!”
Stella winced, preparing for the blow as Daddy’s hand swiftly rose toward her face.
“Oi! Everything okay, Miss Kendrick?” Mr. Gates called. He and two stableboys had rounded the corner, walking two gray Hanoverian horses. The one with white half-cannon markings on its hind legs was chewing on something. One of the boys held up the last piece of an apple to the horse with the star on his forehead. Lord Lyndhurst strolled a few yards behind them.
“Everything is fine. Carry on.” Daddy dropped his hand and his voice. “Do you know how much this is costing me? Do you think those horses are all I’m giving that family for the marriage settlement? No. I’m saving this magnificent estate for these high-and-mighty Searlwyns in order to benefit you. If they can treat me with respect, is it too much to ask from my own daughter?”
The stableboys held their heads together, whispering, as Mr. Gates released the horses into the paddock. Rumors of her and Daddy’s argument would be general knowledge within minutes.
“I’m not a prize horse you can sell to the highest bidder.”
Daddy grabbed her hand so quickly, Stella didn’t see it coming. Gripping her hand by the knuckles, he squeezed until her joints rolled under the pressure. He looked to see if the stable hands were still watching. They were. He dragged her toward him.
“You should be thanking me for my generosity,” he whispered between his teeth, “thanking me for securing your future, not causing a scene.”
“I won’t marry Lord Lyndhurst, Daddy.”
Daddy squeezed harder. Stella met his gaze and steeled herself. He sighed, shaking his head, as he took a step back. He hadn’t let go. “Why do you make me do these things?”
“Aaahhh!” she screamed as Daddy crushed her hand. The pain sent her to her knees.
Shouts arose around her.
“Oi, Mr. Gates!”
“Oi!”
Dust flew as Lord Lyndhurst dashed toward them. The horses in the paddock snorted and sprinted around after the boys startled them with shouts for the head coachman. A squirrel bounding across the grass scampered away as Mr. Gates rushed from the paddock to help. But