‘Thankfully, your losing hand of cards spared me from such an illustrious fate.’

He crossed his arms in front of his thick chest. ‘Enough pleasantries. If you have the register, why haven’t you delivered it to me?’

‘All in good time.’ She wasn’t about to give him what he wanted, only what he deserved. ‘You see, I’ve decided to make a small alteration to our agreement.’

His slick smile dropped. ‘There’ll be no alterations.’

Rafe’s warning rang in her ears as the shadows around them seemed to darken before she steadied herself. This was like any gamble and now was no time to lose her nerve. ‘Your father’s name is in the register, more than once. If I show it to Lord Twickenham, it will be the end of the illustrious Barony of Edgemont.’

His expression sharpened into an edge which cut through her. ‘Are you threatening me?’

She met his hard stance, despite the cold fear creeping up her spine. ‘It was kind of you to pay my passage back to England.’

‘In exchange for the register.’ He jerked his thumb to his chest. ‘My register.’

‘The one you weren’t man enough to acquire on your own.’

His hand lashed out and grabbed her wrist, and he pulled her away from the entrance and into the shadow of one tall column. ‘You will give it to me.’

‘Never. You thought you could manipulate me like you used to manipulate my father but you were wrong.’ She twisted her arm, but he held fast, crushing the edge of her bracelet into her wrist. ‘You have nothing over me while I have the ability to destroy you.’

‘Do you really think I’ll let you get away with this?’

‘You don’t have a choice.’

‘Oh, I do.’ His lips pulled back in a sneer. ‘You see, everyone has their weakness. Don’t think I won’t find yours.’

‘I’ll destroy you before you can.’

‘You ungrateful little whore.’ He shoved her back against the stone column, pressing his body hard against hers. The two of them were nearly matched in height, but his shoulders were wide and his neck thick, the veins bulging out with his anger. ‘You will give me the register.’

‘Let go of me.’ She pushed hard against him, but he didn’t budge. Her wrist and chest stung and the rough stone of the column scratched at her exposed shoulders.

A shadow rose up behind him and the flash of a blade appeared at Edgemont’s throat.

‘Do as the lady says,’ Rafe demanded.

Edgemont stiffened before his hand on her wrist eased. Cornelia wrenched free and slid out from between him and the pillar.

‘That’s no way to treat a Comtesse. Now, apologise,’ Rafe growled.

‘She can dress herself in all the diamonds and titles she wants, but she’s still not worth the blunt her father used to gamble with,’ Edgemont spat.

Rafe jerked the knife up higher under Edgemont’s jaw and the man winced. A small drop of blood formed above the blade, then slid down the smooth surface to stain his cravat. ‘Your apology. Now.’

Edgemont hesitated and Cornelia doubted he’d speak.

‘My apologies, Comtesse,’ he muttered, to her surprise.

‘Now, that’s more like it.’ He shoved Edgemont aside and came to stand beside her, sheathing the knife in his boot.

She reached up to take his arm, her fingertips grazing the wool jacket before she pulled back. She wasn’t about to cling to him like some Gothic heroine. Instead she stepped closer, drawing from his steady presence to replace the courage rattled out of her by Edgemont’s outburst.

‘I should have known where there is one of you, there is the other.’ Edgemont touched his throat and grimaced at the blood on his fingers. ‘You always possessed an unusual soft spot for this little whore. She must possess quite a tongue to keep you so enamoured.’

Rafe rushed at Edgemont, grabbing him by the lapels and shoving him hard against the wall. Surprise and height gave Rafe the advantage over Edgemont’s sturdiness and he tugged the Baron up by his coat to face him. ‘Say one more word to the lady and I’ll call you out.’

‘You wouldn’t dare,’ Edgemont spat, his wide hands puling at Rafe’s.

‘Would you like to bet on it?’

Edgemont’s lips curled to reveal his crooked front teeth, but he stayed silent. A long moment passed, the quiet broken by the jangle of equipage as a hackney pulled up to the kerb.

Finally, Edgemont’s hands relaxed and dropped to his sides, signalling his surrender.

Rafe released Edgemont. The Baron straightened his coat, then fixed them both with a look of venom before skulking back into the theatre.

Cornelia rubbed her aching wrist, the darkness not deep enough to hide her trembling hands.

‘Are you all right?’

She faced Rafe, ashamed of her fear and weakness. ‘Yes, I’m fine.’

‘Good. Then let’s get you home.’ He took her by the arm and drew her towards the hack, but she pulled back.

‘I don’t need your assistance.’

His hand tightened on her arm, not threatening, but steadying. ‘Then simply enjoy the pleasure of my company.’

He started forward again. Pride told her to pull away, to make an exit worthy of a Comtesse, but instead she followed his lead, his gentle coaxing a relief after Edgemont’s bullying.

He opened the hackney door and helped her in, the firmness of his fingers missed as she settled against the worn squabs.

‘Where do you live?’

She hesitated, not wanting to reveal her address. He’d know it wasn’t a fashionable enough area for a rich Comtesse. However, with him standing in the open doorway, she couldn’t sit there like a stone and say nothing. ‘Number Eighteen, Golden Square.’

Whatever his thoughts on her residence, his face didn’t reveal them as he stepped back to call instructions up to the driver.

She waited for him to bid her goodbye, to close the door and leave her to the privacy of the carriage. The tight darkness might weigh on her as it had during the many lonely nights as a child, and again at Château de Vane, but it was preferable to the embarrassment of appearing so vulnerable in front of Rafe.

To her dismay, he climbed in and settled across from her, his knee tapping hers as the vehicle rocked into motion. She jerked away from him, tucking herself as far as she could into the corner. Rafe said nothing, but the rhythm of his breathing punctuated the steady clop of hooves on the cobblestones.

He sat with his long body curved to keep from hitting his head on the low ceiling and she smiled to herself. The world was not accommodating for a man of his height.

‘Do you still have your duelling pistols?’ she asked, more afraid of her own thoughts than Rafe’s overwhelming presence.

He picked at a spot on his breeches. ‘Alas, no.’

‘Pawned?’

‘But Edgemont needn’t know that.’ He flashed a wide smile, as if all the cares of the world never troubled him. It warmed some of the cold creeping through her. If only she could be so optimistic in the face of adversity. It was his gift, the light which had first drawn her to him, the thing she’d missed the most after she’d married the Comte.

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