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crossed Nicholas’ features was cat-like and murderous. Camille jumped in.
    “Excuse me, but we are discussing my future, and I have decided against this marriage, should anyone care to notice.”
    “I would have a word with my niece,” Penley said.
    “Certainly. I’ve had my fill of her company—as well as yours,” Nicholas replied, leaving the two alone.
    Camille tried to stand, but Penley had crossed the room and pushed her forcefully back into her seat. He lowered his voice.
    “You ungrateful chit! What do you think you are doing? I took you in, fed you, clothed you. I would see you comfortably settled, and this is how you show your gratitude? By trying to get it called off? Why in God's name would you prefer the tavern to all this wealth?” He gestured with his stubby arms and fat fingers at the room and luxury surrounding them.
    “You never wanted me, uncle. I have clearly been a burden to you since I was a child. You’ve made that clear. Everything you’ve given me has been given begrudgingly, and you have never spared extra for my needs.” Camille thought of Christopher’s smiling eyes, his kindness, her promise to wait for him, and her courage returned.
    “There is nothing you can do to make me agree to marriage with that man.”
    Penley rocked back on his heels, scratching his rotund chin. His eyes were as cruel and black as a raven’s.
    “It’s true I never wanted to take you in. Why would I want a mouth to feed, a sniggling brat to deal with? But what else could I do? Leave you to the streets? You are...kin.”
    “Come now, uncle, you’ve never done anything that wasn’t to your benefit. Though I am grateful you gave me a roof over my head, I’ve had to earn my keep. Since I was twelve, I’ve fallen into bed every night exhausted from the tasks you set me. I never had a childhood. As far as I’m concerned, we’re even. I’ll say it again. I will not marry him.”
    Penley leaned over her, placing one stout arm on each side of her, forcing her back in the seat. He lowered his voice so only she could hear.
    “That’s where you’re wrong, my dear. How do you think I got Meagan to spill her guts? Even now Meletios waits outside in the carriage. His knuckles are still sore from the beating he gave her, but he will gladly use them again to convince you of the error of your ways.”
    Camille paled. Meletios was a huge man, a well-known thug her uncle hired out when he had gambling debts to collect. He would do anything for the right price. Her uncle, in fact, was not a poor man. He owned a string of taverns. He profited from a lot of unsavory activities. And those he employed usually suffered for it.
    “It’s your choice. You can get married, in fact, why not tonight, or you can come with us and be convinced what’s best for you. You are grown now; I don’t have any further obligation to you.”
    Sweet God, did Nicholas know about Meletios? He had seemed generally surprised to discover the man eavesdropping at the study door was her Uncle Penley, so maybe he didn’t know. Nicholas didn’t seem to be the kind of man who would allow a woman to be beaten, but she didn’t know him at all. And he was determined to wed her. Perhaps he knew of her uncle’s threats and simply didn’t care.
    Camille shivered. She tried to keep the tremor out of her voice. “There will be no need for that, uncle. Though I must wonder at the urgency. There must be something in it for you.”
    “It’s a business transaction, m’dear, the details of which do not concern you. Caindale needed to settle a debt with me. Now, I will have your answer.” Penley stepped away and waited, tapping his boot-clad foot. Camille stood up. She mustered as much dignity as she could.
    “Give Meletios my condolences,” she managed, her throat a tight, achy knot from the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. “For he will not have an opportunity to beat another woman this evening.” Camille hoped he would never