“I don’t know what has happened, but we will all sort it out… like gentlemen,” the duke said, stabbing a finger into Roger’s chest. “And Miss Brennan, I will ring for a maid to bring you back to your rooms and help you.”

“No, I can see myself back, please.”

Henry threw out his hand, waving at the door, desperation burning in his dark eyes. “No, she can’t leave.”

It felt as if the air was caught in her lungs, and she was drowning. She didn’t wish to make a scene, and she certainly didn’t wish to upset Henry.

The duke approached Henry, studying him for a moment. “I will see that she is safe⁠—”

“You can’t take her away…”

“I’m not,” the duke replied coolly. “Only, you and I have matters to discuss. I assure you, Miss Brennan will be taken care of, and we can see her after we are done talking.”

A maid entered, fetching Tilly.

“Annie, can you also ask Mr. Greenwald to meet me in my office with the document?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Tilly glanced over her shoulder as she stepped outside the room. Henry, bloody and panting for breath, pacing as if he were a caged lion. Desperate to touch her. And she understood.

She understood all of it, and she didn’t wish to be parted from him either.

Henry followed Mr. Haskett and the duke to the duke’s office, his body still vibrating with anger. Why did he ever think of leaving her alone with him?

Once inside, the duke closed the door and stood before Henry and Mr. Haskett, crossing his arms.

“I need to know what happened. And I need the truth. I don’t tolerate this kind of behavior from house guests, and a woman was injured.”

Mr. Haskett turned his head and spit on the carpet. The duke’s jaw ticked.

“I think I’m beginning to understand. Mr. Haskett, what happened?”

Henry worried his lip and rocked on the side of his boot soles, balancing, trying to tip his world back into focus. Only ten minutes prior, Tilly had stood before him, blood covering her face and sobbing. He never wished to see it again.

And the man responsible stood beside him. An arrogant arse. He was lucky to still be breathing.

“Devlin,” the duke urged.

Henry rolled his attention back toward the duke. “I answered my door to Miss Brennan who was sobbing, and her nose was bleeding, possibly broken.”

“How did that happen, Mr. Haskett?” the duke asked.

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” he replied with a nervous lick of his lips.

“You don’t. But if you wish to leave this house without being torn from limb to limb by Devlin here, I suggest you start talking.”

“She is my actress, Duke.”

“It’s Your Grace if you value your neck. And last I checked, stage managers don’t own their actors. Explain how she ended up in her condition.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise,” Henry growled.

The man snickered. “Her condition, Your Grace? Listen, she was a little too friendly with the earl, and she and I were having a discussion.”

“Words don’t usually involve broken noses.”

“She bloody ran away and hid. The door whacked her face.”

“Saying I believe you, which I don’t, that doesn’t explain the handprint across her face.”

“Why are you assuming it’s mine?”

“Oh, bloody hell!” Henry clenched and unclenched his bruised hand. The cad had a thick skull in more ways than one. “Listen, Miss Brennan came to my room to seek assistance, so I located Mr. Haskett, and we threw a few punches because I will never tolerate violence against women.” He turned his head, pointing his words to the disgusting excuse of a man, “And I don’t care if you’re the bloody King of England, I won’t allow it.”

There was a soft knock at the door.

“Come in,” the duke called, never turning his back away. “Oh good, thank you for coming, Mr. Greenwald.”

Henry felt something shift within him when Stephen stormed in, glaring at Mr. Haskett.

“I need some assistance here, Greenwald. Mr. Haskett will be leaving us. I will see that he’s escorted from the premises after we discuss a few matters.”

“You damn well will not be escorting me anywhere. I did nothing wrong.”

“Miss Brennan’s face suggests otherwise. And we haven’t talked about the embezzlement claims yet…”

At that, the color drained from Mr. Haskett’s face.

“You and I will talk later, but”—he turned to address Henry directly—“let me assure the earl here that you will be leaving Haddington Court and London almost as quickly as you arrive. And you won’t be seeking out any retribution against Miss Brennan. It’s my theater now.”

Stephen approached with papers for Mr. Haskett to sign.

“Sign this.”

“I won’t sign anything.”

The duke pointed toward the papers. “You will, so you can either do it yourself or I can help. This is a contract that transfers your share of the theater to me.”

Mr. Haskett scoffed. “You have no proof.”

At that, Stephen produced a box of papers. “We have plenty.”

“Your luggage has been packed, and Greenwald here will escort you back to London. If any of us hear a whisper of what happened here, I will hand over the documents I have from Lord Garvey that detail the extent of your embezzlement, and I will personally send the Bow Street Runners after you. I know several patrons of that theater who have been generous in the past and will not be pleased to learn of your activities.”