I stood frozen in the center of my sitting room long after Randall had left, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. The walls seemed to press in around me as I struggled to breathe, the ghost of his cologne still lingering in the air.
Three days. He'd given me three days to betray an innocent girl.
"Mother?" Clara's voice pierced my thoughts. "Are you unwell? You look positively ashen."
I blinked, forcing the panic from my expression as I turned to face my daughter and the Marquess. Clara was a vision in her new blue gown, her golden curls arranged fashionably around her face. The face that so resembled my own at her age—before life had hardened me.
"Just a momentary spell," I lied smoothly. "Nothing to concern yourself with."
Lucian's keen eyes studied me with unsettling intensity. "Your visitor departed rather abruptly, Lady Beatrix. I hope nothing is amiss."
"Business matters," I waved dismissively. "Tedious affairs regarding Baron Beaumont's estate."
