The New Marquess (Wardington Park) (A Regency Romance Book)

He lifted a brow, his expression more relaxed than she’d seen it all day. He looked less dangerous now, though he was still chasing her, and she had no plans to stop moving. “No, I think my mother did on my behalf.” He narrowed his eyes again, returning to the man she was familiar with. “How did you arrange it?”

Mena thought as she moved, cutting across the room. “I arranged nothing and the only reason I am here is to see to its end. I want nothing to do with you.”

“So, my mother chose you without any aid?” He sounded as though he were right behind her.

She turned and had to cover her mouth from letting out a scream. He was right here. She lifted her hands but avoided touching him as she backed herself into a corner. “Stop. Don’t touch me!”

He finally stopped and frowned. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He was close enough to her to see his irises clear enough to notice the gold ring around his pupils. His eyes weren’t completely like his mother’s. He probably wouldn’t hurt her now, but he surely would have hurt her at the docks. She knew it. She’d seen it in his eyes. That amount of hate could not be hidden.

“I don’t want to marry you,” she told him. “I won’t marry you.”

His expression cleared. “You have to. You’re my mother’s choice. I must marry you.”

She didn’t understand what he was talking about and didn’t care to know. “Have your mother choose another, but I won’t marry you. Ever.” She’d die first. Surely if she married him, she would never be happy again.



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4





CHAPTER

FOUR



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“Where is she?”





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Morgan wondered if he could feel lower than he had earlier that day and the answer became a resounding yes as he looked into the blatant fear in Philomena’s brilliant blue eyes. Her body was trembling, and she stared at him as though he were the very thing he’d been hunting through his entire career as a spy for England.



A villain. Something dark and evil.

He hated it. He’d fought all his life to not be that thing, to try and reduce the cold that people like his parents put into the world, fighting for what was right, aiding where he could. He was a man who abhorred violence to women—assassins and spies who tried to poison his food aside. What had he been thinking when he’d said what he had to her?

He knew the answer. He’d taken one look at her and seen Creed.

But was it fair to assume she was in on his every plan? What if she was like the some of his other workers who moved without ever knowing what they were moving toward and for whom? He knew nothing about her relationship to Creed. He didn’t even know if they spoke. She was not related to him by blood. All he knew was that Creed owned her hotel.

But what if she’d not known about the rats? It was a possibility. He thought it weak, but it was still there.

It was there in the way he frightened her, like she’d never seen a crime committed before, as though she were the innocent that Society wished her to be.

If she was, then he was the worst sort of man there was, but if she wasn’t… he would still have to marry her. He remembered what Hiram had told him. His mother’s choice would have to be recognized and accepted, as was the oath his father had placed on his heir. Yet now there was a possibility that he’d broken it. Philomena didn’t want him anymore.

What was he going to do?

He had to tell her as much of the truth as he could and prayed she wouldn’t ask him more questions than he could answer. “Lady Philomena, you’re right. I did know who you were and that was what made me angry.”

“Why?” The question seemed to come from the depths of her, as though she truly needed the answer, as though she had no clue as to who he was.

Had Creed truly not told her to whom she was betrothed?

“I know you’re Creed’s ward,” he told her plainly.

Surprise lit her eyes and she asked, “How did you find that out? Uncle Creed said it was a secret.”

Uncle Creed. Well, if Morgan had any hopes that they were not in contact with one another, that died. “I thought you’d come to my office for nefarious reasons,” he finally said. “On behalf of your… uncle. But now that I know you did not, I swear to you I will never hurt you.” If she turned out to be a bad person in the end, he’d simply have her arrested.

Philomena blinked and her shoulders fell as most of her fear left her body and was replaced by disbelief. “Please, tell me you’re not being serious.”

“I am.”

She gasped, her perfectly pink lips parting to form an ‘O’. “I can’t believe this. You believe the gossip rags as well? I thought a man of your station would at least be able to tell the truth from the lies. Uncle Creed is not a criminal.”

Morgan laughed. Her statement was surely the funniest thing he’d heard in a very long time. “Lady Philomena, your uncle runs all the crime in the city.”

Philomena shook her head, and Morgan started laughing again when he saw her newest expression: Pity. For him. “Uncle Creed is a good man.”

“He’s no better than swine.”

The shock on her face wiped the laughter from his body. He was beginning to hate disappointing her.

“How could you say that?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “You don’t even know him.”

Morgan leaned toward her and stared into her eyes, looking for any sign of deceit, searching for the lie, but all he found was starlight blue eyes staring back at him with open wonder.

“Lady Philomena, I believe you’re the one who doesn’t know Mr. Creed.”

Philomena’s eyes grew sad again. “Well, then it doesn’t matter why you were upset with me over an hour ago. I still can’t marry you. I can’t marry someone who would think such a thing about a man who was a close friend of my father’s.”

“Your father was close to him?” Morgan asked as he realized Philomena might be the clue they’d been looking for.

She shrugged a dainty shoulder. “I don’t know. I mean, I’d never seen him until after my father’s death, but surely they had to have been or why else would my father have left him the hotel?”

Oh, there were many reasons one would give a criminal their worldly possessions. Debt. Blackmail. Threats of bodily harm, just to name a few.

Staring at Philomena, Morgan began to pity her. She had no clue who Creed was and lived in a world with few villains if she thought him the bad guy. She lived in a den of wolves and didn’t even know it. Leaving her to the fate that would befall her seemed wrong. He already had to marry her to keep his father’s oath, but he wanted to do so to protect her because one way or another, Creed was going to at the very least spend the rest of his life in prison.

He reached out to touch her, and she shrank back again. He dropped his hand and truly looked her over.

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