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There was a knock, more hurried than the others.

Ernest entered.

“Your Grace. The Earl of Rutland has arrived.”

For one extraordinary moment Marina thought she had misheard him.

“His Grace is not home,” Ernest added. “I informed the Earl, but he insists upon seeing you.”

Marina tightened her hold on Emma.

“Tell him I will come down.”

“Your Grace, I would strongly advise⁠—”

“I will not permit him to wander through this house looking for her. Please ask Mrs. Dalton to stay here with Emma. And send word to my mother.”

She kissed the baby’s soft forehead and placed her in the cradle.

“Not one person is to take her from this room without my permission,” she said.

Ernest bowed. “Of course, Your Grace.”

Marina descended the stairs with her heart beating so hard that she could scarcely hear her own footsteps.

Douglas waited in the morning room, standing before the fire as though he were master of the house.

He turned at her entrance.

“Your Grace. A happy Christmas to you.”

“That would have been considerably more likely had you stayed away.”

He smiled. “Still as charming as your reputation suggests.”

“What do you want?”

“My daughter.”

“Emma is upstairs, and she is not going anywhere.”

“The agreed time is nearly upon us. I have come for the documents. Or the child. I am not particular which.”

“My husband has not returned.”

“Then perhaps you ought to consider what that means.”

Marina held herself rigid. “It means he is occupied.”

“It means he has abandoned you.”

“Do not speak about my husband.”

Douglas gave a short laugh.

“Come now. Surely you never expected the Beast of Griffin to make a proper husband. He has always been more comfortable in the dark, hiding from the world. I imagine he has finally decided that you and the child are too troublesome.”

Marina’s hands curled at her sides.