“It will if you know what’s good for you,” Bart said in return, narrowing his eyes.
“Gentlemen, please,” Lenore begged them. “Sit down so that we can come to some sort of an agreement about how to move forward.”
“The only way I’m leaving is if you come with me, sweetie,” Bart said, moving back to his chair and sitting as though he owned all of London.
“And Lenore is in no way going with you,” Freddy said, grabbing Lenore’s hand again. “Ever.”
Lenore was still grateful for the gesture, but with Phin there now, she would much rather he be the one to hold her and comfort her. As it was, she couldn’t even tell if he had forgiven her. He’d stated that he wouldn’t let Bart take her, but that wasn’t the same as forgiveness.
A brittle silence followed. It stretched on for so long that Lenore wasn’t sure what to do. She still roiled with suspicion about Bart’s true reason for pursuing her. It had to be the money. He couldn’t truly care one whit for her. But she couldn’t work out how to get the brute to tip his cards. And aside from that, something had to be done to fill the space before it ignited and the four men broke into a brawl worthy of any London pub or Haskell saloon. Lenore had been around Englishwomen long enough to feel as though it were her responsibility to keep things moving as calmly as possible.
“Phin, have you had a chance to visit your brother since returning to London?” Lionel Mercer had said he would investigate Bart, after all. Perhaps he’d discovered something that might help them.
“I visited him last night,” Phin said, moving awkwardly to sit in the free chair. Reese resumed his seat as well as Phin went on with, “We had a long and interesting discussion. Lionel would like you to host a ball this weekend.”
Lenore blinked. It was absolutely the last thing she would have expected anyone to say. “I’m sorry, but he wants me to host a ball?”
“Yes.” Phin nodded. “Saturday would be best. Here, or perhaps at Lady O’Shea’s house.”
Lenore’s mouth dropped open, but she couldn't think of a single thing to say in response to the outlandish request.
“She can’t do it,” Bart answered for her. “We’ll be on a ship headed home by then.”
“You most certainly will not,” Freddy scoffed, inching closer to Lenore.
“We’re leaving as soon as the next ship sails,” Bart said. “Isn’t that right, pumpkin?”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Lenore snapped, then thought better of it. She glanced to Phin, who seemed as frustrated by the situation as he was furious. “That is to say, if Mr. Lionel Mercer needs me to host a ball this Saturday, I have to host a ball.” Perhaps that would give her time to uncover the truth about what Bart wanted.
“Nonsense,” Bart snorted. “That ball is just a dumb excuse to delay the inevitable. You’re coming with me, and you’re going to be the wife you were supposed to be,” he said, undisguised lasciviousness in his eyes.
“Over my dead body,” Freddy growled.
“And mine,” Reese agreed.
“And yours,” Phin added, almost too quietly to be heard.
Bart did hear it, though. He narrowed his eyes at Phin as though dreaming up ways to kill him as soon as possible.
“I must host a ball for Mr. Mercer,” Lenore said, desperation to keep Phin out of the line of fire suddenly more important than anything else. “It’s a matter of honor, you see.” She turned to Bart, eyes wide, scrambling for an explanation he would understand. “I owe Lionel Mercer. I owe him for a great many things. If he wants me to host a ball, I have an obligation to do so. You understand honor, I’m sure.”
Bart sighed and scrubbed a hand over his stubbly face. “What is it with you English people and balls? They’re stupid, if you ask me.”
“They are a necessary part of social interaction,” Reese said, stony-faced. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Lenore sent him a warning look. Bart was the wrong person to bait, which was clearly what Reese was doing.
Oddly enough, Bart seemed amused by Reese’s stiff demeanor. “Fine,” he said, slapping the arms of his chair, then pushing himself to stand. “You wanna have yourselves a ball on Saturday? Go ahead. But I’m booking passage on the next ship out of here on Sunday, and you’re going to be on that boat with me, you hear?” he asked Lenore, glowering.
Freddy tried to defend her, but Lenore silenced him. She stood, gathering all the courage she had left to take a step toward Bart.
“It would seem we are at an impasse, Bart. You’ve stated your case and I’ve stated mine. I want an annulment,” she said. “We both know why I married you. I said before and I’ll say it again, I have no intention of returning to America, nor do I intend to testify against you, should such a thing become necessary. I just want you to go away and forget I ever existed.”
“Oh, but see, honey, you’re not the kind of woman a man can just forget,” Bart said, rubbing his mouth as though he were eyeing up a particularly juicy steak. “But I’ll let you pretend things are all peaches and cream for now. Play English, if that’s what you want to do. We both know how this whole thing ends, don’t we?” He broke into a wolfish smile.
“I think it’s time you left my house.” Reese stepped in, demanding Bart move away from Lenore with his look alone. “And I will be giving instructions to my butler not to allow you back in. Do I make myself clear?”
Bart moved away from Lenore and snorted at Reese. “Those are some big words for a queer.” He sniffed, then sauntered toward the parlor’s doorway. Before he left, he glanced back to Lenore. “If I were you, sweetheart, I would do what the law and God says you should do and obey your husband. Because if I get on that boat and head home without you, well, then you’re gonna start getting some mighty upsetting letters from home about your kinfolk suddenly dying in horrible accidents. That’s just the way these things go.”
He winked at her, glared at each of the men, then marched around the corner and out of sight.
Lenore took a shaky step back and sank into the sofa. Freddy put an arm around her, rubbing her back.
“Those are hollow threats, if ever I’ve heard them,” he said, attempting to comfort her.
Lenore glanced warily up at him. “You don’t know Wyoming,” she said. “Those aren’t hollow threats at all.”
Freddy’s brow knit, and he pivoted to exchange a glance with Reese.
“We won’t let any harm come to you or your family,” Reese assured her, moving closer.
Phin moved to her other side, squeezing onto the sofa with her and taking her hand. The gesture was exactly what Lenore had wanted from the start of the confrontation, but it didn’t make her feel as safe as she’d hoped it would.
“I just wish I knew what he truly wanted,” she said with surprising passion, nearly wailing. She glanced to Phin, then to Freddy and Reese. “It has to be money.”
“Then we’ll give it to him,” Freddy said.
“I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” Phin muttered.
“But it could also be the influence my father’s name wields in the WSGA,” Lenore went on. “He’s hiding something, and it infuriates me that I can’t tell what it is.”