it. His boots were worn enough that Lenore worried for Reese’s Persian carpet, even though they weren’t as dusty as they would have been back home, fresh from the ranch.
Freddy noticed her entry first and stood from the sofa, crossing the parlor to greet her. “Lenore, you look lovely,” he said in a tight, distracted voice.
Lenore humphed warily, but accepted his kiss to her cheek and grabbed his hand tightly when he reached her. “Don’t leave me alone with him,” she whispered before he pulled away.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, taking her hand and leading her back to the sofa.
“Would you like some tea?” Reese asked, leaning forward and taking up the silver teapot on the table between the sofa and chairs as though taking up a sword.
“Yes, please.” Lenore sat, heart trembling, still holding Freddy’s hand. It was her primary source of courage in that moment.
Bart stared flatly at her, as if everything around him were a joke that had gone stale. “I don’t see what you like so much about this place,” he said with a sneer. “It’s all fiddly and frilly, and the men aren’t even men.”
“Freddy and Reese are among the best men I’ve ever known,” Lenore shot back, forcing confidence she didn’t yet feel into her voice.
Bart rolled his eyes. “I told you they’re queer, right?”
“Why are you dragging this whole thing out, Bart?” she asked as Reese handed her a teacup.
“You don’t want it drug out? Then go pack your bags and come along with me now,” he fired back, irritated. “I told you I’d be back to take you home, and here I am. So quit delaying and come along.” He sat forward, putting his barely-touched tea on the table so clumsily that liquid splashed over the sides of the cup.
“Lenore isn’t going anywhere,” Freddy said. “She’s my fiancée, and as long as she wishes to stay here, I’ll stand by her.”
Lenore’s burst of affection for Freddy was clipped short as Bart growled, “Yeah, well, she’s my wife, and the law says she’s got to do as she’s told.”
“I’m not sure your Wyoming laws apply in Great Britain,” Reese said, perhaps a little too imperiously, given the circumstances, but with a strength Lenore was grateful for.
“I don’t give a hoot about what you Brits think is or isn’t legal,” Bart snorted. “Lenore is my wife, and it’s about time we headed home.”
“I’ve thought about it, Bart, and I’ve decided I’m not going anywhere with you,” Lenore said. She attempted to show her resistance by calmly drinking her tea, as any good Englishwoman would do, but the cup shook so much as she attempted to raise it to her lips that she quickly put it down again. “I told you what I wanted yesterday, an annulment, and I stand by that.”
A moment later, Mr. Tilney appeared in the parlor’s doorway and cleared his throat. “Mr. Mercer is here, my lord.”
Before Reese could tell Mr. Tilney to let him in, Phin strode into the room. His anxious expression hardened to pure rage when he saw Bart was there. Even so, Lenore was so relieved to see him she could have wept.
“Mr. Mercer,” Reese greeted him with a formality that would have made Lenore laugh in any other situation. She could see by the way Reese used them now, proper British manners were one of the sharpest weapons he had. “Please join us. We were just attempting to convince Mr. Swan to leave England.”
“And to grant Lenore an annulment,” Freddy added.
Phin took a breath where he stood and glanced from Reese and Freddy to Lenore to Bart, and then back to Lenore. “I see,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back. “And have you had any luck?”
“I’m not going anywhere and I’m not giving up what’s mine,” Bart announced, standing and taking a few steps to stand near Phin. It was clear his aim was to intimidate Phin, but Phin had a good four inches on him. Bart was twice as broad, though, and with muscle, not excess fat. All in all, Lenore didn’t like the picture he painted. “My wife would do well to obey and get the hell out of this dollhouse right away.” He finished by glaring at Lenore.
“Please, just leave me alone, Bart.” Lenore set her teacup on the table and pressed her fingers to her temples. “Everyone here knows that the second I leave this house with you, you’ll kill me.”
“Now why would I want to do a