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“You know nothing of him.”

“I know he has failed to appear when his family needs him. A rather unfortunate habit in the Hunt family.”

She took a step toward him.

“His sister loved him. She trusted him with Emma. And whatever you choose to say about Ambrose, he has cared for your daughter every day since you left her here.”

“I am her father.”

“Then you might have behaved like one.”

Douglas’s smile vanished.

“You will bring her down to me.”

“No.”

“Do not make this difficult.”

“It is you who has made it difficult. You could have visited her. You could have written to ask how she fared. You did neither. You came to our Christmas ball and demanded my husband’s fortune.”

His expression hardened.

“Your husband was given a perfectly reasonable choice.”

“You call blackmail reasonable?”

“Mind your tongue, Duchess.”

He moved toward the door. Marina stepped into his path.

“Where are you going?”

“To collect what belongs to me.”

She glared at him. “Emma is not a possession.”

“Stand aside.”

“No.”

He reached for her arm. Marina recoiled, but before his fingers could close around her, a voice sounded from the doorway.

“Take one more step toward my wife, Douglas, and you will regret it.”

Ambrose.

He stood in the doorway, his coat dusted with snow and his face pale with fatigue. He looked as though he had not slept, yet his eyes were steady.

Marina had never been so relieved to see anyone in her life.

“Ambrose.”

His gaze flickered toward her, taking in her expression, her uninjured arm, the space between her and Douglas.

Then he looked at the earl.

“You will not touch her.”