His Secret Heroine by Delle Jacobs

silent, continuing his drive almost as if she were not there, reached the gate and continued along Knightsbridge. Once along the tree-lined street, where no other carriage drove so early in the day, he tossed a long assessing look, as hard as ice, at her. Chloe felt a sudden chill.
    "You met Reginald at a house party. Mythe's, was it not?"
    "Yes, Your Grace, at a reading, actually. He—"
    "Mythe was always a ridiculous bluestocking. That wife of his, as well. Reginald is not writing poetry again, is he?"
    Chloe almost gasped, but caught herself. He said it in the way one might accuse a son of drunkenness or worse. Reggie had said he loved to write. But if his father disapproved, then no wonder he kept it secret. But he hadn't actually said he was doing so. "I do not know of any, Your Grace."
    The duke's mouth worked sideways minutely, reminding her of a mouse sniffing about for a dropped tidbit. "He is doing something, I am sure of it."
    He flicked his whip, and the tip danced eloquently above the backs of his cattle. The elegant carriage picked up speed.
    "I am not one to mince words, Miss Englefield. I wish to discuss your connection with my son."
    " Your Grace—"
    "You are quite lovely. I can see why Reginald is taken with you. But he is quite above your touch. He will in all likelihood become the next duke, and a baron's daughter will not suit as the next duchess."
    "But Your Grace—"
    "Do not think I am ignorant of your situation. I am not as easily bamboozled as those silly matrons and fops who are so taken in by you. You, Miss Englefield, are an adventuress."
    Chloe's jaw dropped open. She stared at the duke, and the ice in his sideways glare grew colder.
    "You, Miss Englefield, are up the River Tick and mean to make a marriage of the greatest of convenience to you. I wish you good fortune in your endeavor. But it will not be with my son."
    "But I —he— Your Grace, we do not—"
    "Do you think to fool me, Miss Englefield? You waste your efforts to try to soften me with your charm."
    "No, Your Grace, but surely you must know that Reggie and I have already decided we will not suit."
    The man's gaze sliced over her, through her like a carving knife through cold meat. "Really, Miss Englefield. I am appalled that you think me an innocent. You were seen together only last night. Women of your kind do not simply decide they do not suit a man of means and position such as my son. You cannot persuade me you have not assessed your chances and found Reginald useful. But you overreach yourself, young lady. You will either renounce your ties to Reginald or face the consequences."
    As Chloe overcame her shock, pure, boiling rage poured in to replace it, and the almost uncontrollable urge to tell the man exactly what she thought of him. Poor Reggie! His father was everything he had said! But before her mouth opened, she stopped herself. Anything she said would only reverberate back on Reggie, if not herself. She'd best be very careful.
    "What do you want, Miss Englefield?"
    Chloe's brow screwed into a frown. "I beg your pardon, Your Grace?"
    "Are you familiar with the term, 'cut your losses'? It means to arrange to lose as little as possible when one has no choice but to lose. You are in precisely that position. If you persist in your alliance with Reginald, I will see to it that you suffer. If he should happen to marry you against my wishes, I will cut him off entirely. And I will see to it that your own good name is damaged beyond repair. Do you understand me?"
    Now he threatened her, as well? Chloe felt the urge to jump up and claw the man's eyes out. Never had she met anyone so blatantly, arrogantly obnoxious!
    "Therefore I ask you, Miss Englefield, what is it you want? It is quite obvious Reginald will require some persuading, since he rarely knows what is in his own best interest. It is a simpler matter to dispose of you. How much will you require?"
    "Require?" If her eyes got any bigger, they would surely pop out of her