She continued to listen as the lawyer enumerated the statistics of her jointure. It was generous in the extreme. If she outlived her husband, she would be a wealthy woman in her own right. And when she had children, they would be the beneficiaries of that wealth. But Stoneridge wasn't laying down these terms out of his own generosity; Mr. Crighton was dictating the terms to him.

This was her grandfather's doing.

She was the currency for Stoneridge to inherit the estate, but by doing so he had to accept obligations that her grandfather had laid upon him.

Her grandfather hadn't abandoned them.

But what had he done to her? What had he done to his favorite granddaughter? He'd tied her body and soul to a man she now loathed with a repugnance beyond description. A man who'd deceived and manipulated her. A man who'd trapped her into a marriage that ended her independence, that destroyed all possibility of other choices for the future. With his smooth serpent's tongue, the Gilbraith had persuaded her mother that he was a generous and honorable man who would fulfill obligations to his wife's family for family and duty's sake.

But he didn't have an honorable bone in his body. He was a liar. A greedy liar.

Numbed but fascinated like the rabbit circled by the fox, Theo listened to the end of the discussion, although nothing more illuminating was said. But she had the picture, and she was convulsed with rage that blinded her to anything but the need to bring this repulsive sham of a marriage to an end, to tell that loathsome, deceiving manipulator what she thought of him.

And through her rage she heard his voice from days past promising that he would never take advantage of her passion. That she could trust him to share her passion and lose himself in lust as she lost herself. And he'd been lying through his teeth. She'd given herself to him in all honesty and trust, and he'd possessed her with cold-blooded greed… using her, using her passion.

It was all she could do to slide quietly from her hiding place, close the slab, and go to her room to wash the traces of soot from her hands. Her face was deathly pale in the looking glass, her eyes blank with a pain so deep, it was like a knife in her vitals. For the first time in twenty years her sense of who and what she was, of her own worth in her own world, was destroyed. All her life she'd been indulged and praised. She knew herself to be useful; she knew her talents. But now it was gone, trampled into the dust by a stranger who'd walked into her life and taken everything meaningful from her.

Chapter Fourteen

"When you have business with me in the future, Mr. Crighton, we will conduct it in town," Stoneridge said, rising from his desk to indicate the interview was over. "A letter to me requesting a meeting will be sufficient. I anticipate being in London quite frequently, so there will be no difficulty in dealing with these matters in your own offices."

Lawyer Crighton looked uncomfortable. "I trust I haven't intruded, my lord. But it's always been my custom to make these quarterly visits in person… to pay my respects…"

"No… no." Sylvester waved him impatiently into silence. "I appreciate the courtesy, but it will not be necessary to repeat it, you understand."

"Yes, my lord… of course, my lord," the lawyer muttered unhappily as the earl pulled the bell rope.

"Have Mr. Crighton's gig brought around, Foster," the earl instructed when the butler appeared.

So there was to be no invitation to dinner, and he'd been offered only a glass of claret – a glass, moreover, that had not been refilled. Circumstances had certainly changed at Stoneridge Manor, and not for the better, the disgruntled lawyer decided, picking up his hat and gloves from the table in the hall.

The earl accompanied him to the front door, where he shook hands briskly, and then turned back to his book room without waiting to see Lawyer Crighton into his gig. He was aware he'd dealt somewhat brusquely with the man, but he was too anxious to get him out of the house before Theo reappeared.

He paced the small room for a few minutes, considering his next move. Theo was bound to be annoyed at her unceremonious exclusion from the interview, but now the danger was past, and Crighton wouldn't drop in unexpectedly another time; he could afford to be as conciliatory as necessary to smooth her ruffled feathers.

He'd suggested duck hunting earlier. Henry had reported that the sport at Webster's Pond was held to be excellent. Apart from a few poachers, it was rarely hunted, since it was on private Stoneridge land.

Maybe the idea of a competition would appeal to her. He'd never known Theo to refuse a challenge of any kind. The thought made him smile, and as he realized how relieved he was, he understood just how desperately anxious he'd been since Crighton had driven up to the door… was it only an hour ago? A lifetime of living with his despicable secret seemed impossible, but he couldn't imagine how he could ever tell her.

He moved to the door just as it opened. Theo came into the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

His words of friendly greeting died on his lips. Her face was paler than he'd ever seen it, and her eyes were depthless caverns.

"So, my lord, your business with Mr. Crighton is concluded?" Her voice was strangely flat.

"Cry peace, Theo," he said, coming toward her, smiling, one hand outstretched. "I know you've been accustomed to participating in these discussions, but -"

"But on this occasion things not for my ears were being discussed," she interrupted in the same expressionless voice. Before he could respond, she continued. "Did you ever consider that I might be too high a price to pay for the estate, my lord? But I imagine no price would be too high."

"You were listening?" His own face now bloodless, Sylvester stared at her, too stunned for the moment to grasp the full horror of this disclosure.

"Yes," Theo said. "I was eavesdropping. Nasty habit, isn't it? But not as nasty as deceit and manipulation, my lord. Did my grandfather know you, I wonder? Did he know what a greedy, dishonorable man he was tempting with his granddaughter's body?"

"Theo, that's enough." He had to take hold of the situation, to stop this dreadful, destructive monologue before something catastrophic was said or done. "You must listen to me."

"Listen to you? Oh, I've listened to you enough, Stoneridge. If I hadn't listened to you, I wouldn't be tied to a despicable, treacherous deceiver."

"Theo, you will stop this instant!" Guilt yielded to anger as her bitter words flew like poison darts across the small room.

"We will talk about this like reasonable people. I understand how you feel -"

"You understand!" she exclaimed, and her eyes were now bright with fury. "You've taken everything from me, and you tell me you understand how I feel." With a sudden inarticulate sound of desperate rage and confusion, she turned and ran from the room.

Sylvester remained where he was, his body immobile, his ears ringing with her accusations. There was a dreadful truth to them, but it was a black-and-white truth, one that ignored the complexities of the decision that he'd made. Theo, headstrong, forthright, free-spirited gypsy that she was, drew her world with the firm strokes of a charcoal pencil, no shading, no wavy lines.

Somehow she had to be persuaded to accept her grandfather's part in all this. Her grandfather had laid out the board, and he himself was as much a goddamned pawn in the old devil's game as Theo.

With a muttered execration he spun on his heel and began to pace the room, the hateful words pounding with his blood in his veins. Dishonorable; treacherous; deceitful. The accusations went round and round in his head until his brain was spinning with them. A dishonorable, treacherous man would give in to the enemy without a fight. Would see his men slaughtered, would surrender the colors, would condemn the survivors of his company to languish in an enemy jail…