The Rakehell of Roth (Everleigh Sisters #2) - Amalie Howard Page 0,83

was Lady Vittorina claiming that Winter had left her brokenhearted after promising to marry her, but she was also saying that he’d left her and their child destitute and alone years ago to come back to England out of duty for a forced marriage to one Lady Isobel Everleigh. The newssheets painted her as the villain and Winter as the consummate womanizer.

“Isobel, you know that they print untruths,” Molly said.

Violet reached for her hand. “They’re full of lies.”

White spots danced in front of Isobel’s eyes as her fingers fisted in the sheets. Oh, dear God, she was going to be ill. Right in front of everyone watching…with their condemning, scornful gazes. It didn’t matter if any of it was true—the ton thrived on gossip and this was just the kind of juicy morsel they enjoyed. Relished.

“Isobel!” Clarissa said, sounding as though she’d been calling her name for some time. “What do you want me to do?”

She focused on her friend’s face, licking dry lips, her heart in pieces. “Get me home, Clarissa.”

Clarissa nodded. “Randolph, you heard her ladyship, go.”

The short journey back to Vance House passed in a fog, and only when they arrived back at the mews did Isobel realize she was still clenching the creased newssheets between her fingers. She let them fall, uncaring of where they ended up, before blindly dismounting the carriage and rushing into the house. She could hear the twins yelling, but the thudding of her heartbeat in her ears was too great.

Dimly, she heard Clarissa saying something about fetching some tea from the kitchens and the twins seeing about a hot bath, but Isobel couldn’t think. All she wanted to do was reach the safety and comfort of her bedchamber before she embarrassed herself further.

Shouting reached her ears as if from afar. It sounded as though people were arguing in the study, where the heavy door stood slightly ajar. Isobel was about to turn and go up the stairs when one voice hit her hard…one she instantly recognized.

Her husband’s.

…

In their father’s study, Winter stared at his brother, his eyes tracing the trickle of blood on the corner of his mouth. Fuck, he should have hit him harder. After all these years, it was more than the blockheaded cad deserved.

“You married her to inherit,” Oliver said, pressing a palm to his bleeding lip. “Don’t pretend otherwise. What’s to say that Vittorina’s account in the newssheets wasn’t real?”

“It’s not. You’ll believe anything terrible about me, won’t you?”

“You earned it.”

Winter ground his jaw. “I can’t control what the newssheets publish, no more than I can change what happened in my past.”

“Like you did with Prudence?”

Blood filled his vision again, and riled beyond belief, he lunged toward his brother, only to be hauled back by the duke himself. Shrugging his father off, Winter’s fingers curled around Oliver’s neck, his rage pounding between his ears like a bellowing beast. “Don’t you dare bring her up, you fucking bastard!”

At his words, Oliver paled, pain flashing across his face before all the fight drained from his body. He went limp with a defeated huff, but Winter’s boiling anger blinded him to his brother’s sudden paralysis.

“Enough!” Kendrick roared, finally about to tear them apart, but managing to catch a flying elbow in the nose at the same time. He stumbled back and crashed into a small table.

“Your Grace,” Simmons exclaimed, rushing in to escort the duke away and guide him into a nearby armchair. He held up a pristine handkerchief to his bleeding nostril.

“I’m fine, Simmons,” he said. “Leave us, please.”

Breathing hard, Winter felt an unexpected pang as he stared at his bloodied father. His eyes slid back to Oliver, who stalked to the bottle of whiskey on the desk and poured himself a liberal draught, dabbing at his lip with a fingertip. They glared at each other until the duke spoke.

“What in damnation is going on here?” he asked.

They stared at him, but Oliver beat Winter to the punch. “More of the same. The fact that he’s always doing stupid things and tarnishing the Vance name, and not caring about anyone else but himself, even his own wife, whom everyone in the ton knows he married for convenience.”

“Isobel is going back to Chelmsford,” Winter said through his teeth. “And you’re right. I don’t care about anyone, not her, not you, and certainly not some Italian chit hunting for a title.”

“Does your dear wife know about your old flame?”

Winter’s fingers curled into fists at his side. “This has nothing to do