Page 177 of A Very Bellamy Christmas

“Enough!” a familiar voice roared from behind her.

Stacia spun around. Not only Andrew, but also the duke and duchess of Chatham stood in the opening where the screens to the music room had been pushed aside, their shocked faces proclaiming what they’d heard.

Andrew strode toward them, his eyes spitting fire at the countess as he slid his arm around Stacia.

She could not help it; she melted against the protection of his hard chest.

She also should have plugged her ears, as Lady Addiscombe was not yet finished.

“You!” she seethed. “I see you for what you are, Shelton. I am not some ignorant persuadable chit; do not waste your lies and charm on me.”

“I would not waste even my spit on a harpy like you.” Andrew ignored Lady Addiscombe’s outraged squawk, raising his voice to talk over her. “You have no right to spew your venom at Stacia. You were in a position to help her and all you’ve done is denigrate and terrorize her. You are a monster and if you were not a woman, I would not wait for dawn to see you at twenty paces and make you answer for your cruelty. But my tolerance has its limits, and if you are even a shred as wise as you seem to think you are then you will get out of my sight before I forget that you are my cousin’s mother-in-law.”

Lady Addiscombe’s face was as red as a boiled lobster as she turned to her daughter and the duke and flung a hand toward Andrew. “Are you going to say something or just stand there and allow this—this churl to threaten me with violence?”

It was unclear who the question was aimed at. The duke and duchess exchanged a brief glance before Her Grace stepped forward.

“I am proud in this moment that you have never wanted me to call you mother, my lady.”

Lady Addiscombe gasped.

“If this were my house, I would have your baggage on the front steps already,” the duchess continued, her quiet voice pure steel. “I am certain that my sister—your hostess—will feel likewise when she learns how you’ve spoken to my cousin and Miss Martin. But you are fortunate because Chatham’s carriage will be ready and waiting to take you back to Bath in the morning. If you know what is good for you—and your future comfort—you will take his generous offer.” She took a step closer to her mother, her eyes glittering coldly as she stared down at the older woman. “In case I have not made myself clear, you will never darken the doors of any of my homes as long as you draw breath.”

The countess hissed. “You vile, unnatural—”

“If you finish that sentence, you will find yourself walking to Bath,” the duke said coolly. He strode across the room. “I will escort you to your chambers, my lady, where you will remain until first light.” He gestured to the door and—to Stacia’s astonishment—Lady Addiscombe went, too shocked to do more than sputter.

When the door shut behind them, the duchess came toward them, her face as expressionless as ever, but her green eyes brighter than usual. “I am sorry for what you have endured at my mother’s hands,” the other woman said. “I was not able to save my siblings—or myself—from her poison, but I am grateful that you are no longer subject to her abuse.” She inclined her head and left the room, the door closing silently behind her.

Andrew lifted her chin until she met his gaze. “I will never stop regretting that my attention exposed you to such a viper, Stacia.”

“None of this was your fault. If not you, then something—or somebody—would have set her off eventually.”

He rubbed her bare upper arms. “You are remarkably contained in the face of such viciousness.”

“I am relieved that is how I appear. Inside I am—” Her voice, which had held firm all through the countess’s attack, finally broke.

Strong arms enfolded her and drew her close. “My poor darling.” Andrew stroked her back while she sobbed. She had been a companion—a servant, in truth—for almost four years and had suffered countless slights. But never had she been assaulted so baldly and brutally.

“It is all over now, sweetheart,” he murmured, his gentle hands and words a balm on her wounded soul. He stood patiently and absorbed all her pain, comforting her with his body and words.

When she stopped trembling a short time later, she looked up at him. “I am better now.”

He stared down at her with a wondering smile, his face so beautiful that it squeezed the breath from her lungs. “Why me, darling?”

She considered pretending that she didn’t know what he meant, but what was the point? They were to be married, her love for him would slip out sooner rather than later. “Ah, you heard that part, did you?”

He nodded mutely.

“Why you?” she repeated. “Need you ask? You are”—she made a helpless gesture to encompass his magnificent face and body. “You are you. Surely having women falling in love with you in droves is something you are accustomed by now.”

“And is that it? You love the body I inhabit?” he asked, his gaze no longer hopeful but…hollow.

“Of course that is not all I love, Andrew. I love the man who makes me laugh—at my own folly as well as his own. I love the man who went out of his way to help a bloody, injured mutt and a bloody, muddy woman who had only snapped and snarled at him. I love the man who helped a stranger marry her lover, even when he suffered for it. I love the man who would not take my virginity even when I all but offered it to him on a platter.”

His mobile eyebrows leapt. “Damnation! I had not realized that was an option. I really am slow witted.”

She rolled her eyes.