Unwillingly Dare shifted his attention to the earl. His first impulse was to strangle the man with his bare hands for daring to touch Julienne-
"Tell him, my dear," Ivers urged.
"Tell me what?" Dare demanded, his anger welling to dangerous heights.
"She intends to end your betrothal," Ivers said when Julienne remained silent. He squeezed her shoulder. "Isn't that right, my dear?"
For a moment she shut her eyes. Then with a slow, shuddering breath, she stiffened her shoulders and raised her gaze to Dare's. "Yes. I no longer wish to marry you, Dare."
A sharp hollowness clawed at the pit of his stomach, while his mouth suddenly felt filled with sawdust. "What the devil are you talking about?"
"I… You never told me your grandfather would disown you if you wed me."
Dare stood frozen, staring at her as he tried to comprehend the import of her words. Did she care so much about the Wolverton fortune after all?
Watching his face, Julienne reached a trembling hand out to him. "Dare… I cannot marry you."
As if to comfort her, Ivers patted her shoulder. "I regret that you had to discover the truth this way, Clune, but it is better that you finally know. Julienne has always been mine. I enjoyed her favors long before you did."
His breath seizing in his lungs, Dare found he couldn't move. Every muscle in his body was paralyzed by shock and disbelief.
"Julienne?" The raw word finally scraped from his throat. "It isn't true."
Fleetingly she glanced up at Ivers, then lowered her gaze to stare at the floor. "I am sorry," she whispered hoarsely.
Ivers smiled in triumph, while turmoil rocked Dare. He staggered backward, recoiling as if struck by a blow. He'd expected her to denounce Ivers's sickening claim, not to uphold it.
His rival's exultant voice pierced the tumult of his thoughts. "It has been difficult for me, keeping quiet all this time while you courted her, Clune. But Julienne insisted that I stay out of her way. Fortunately she decided that if you are to lose your inheritance, she prefers me to you."
Reeling, Dare focused on Ivers, seeing the revolting smirk on his dark face… the blood coming from his split lower lip.
With a wry smile, Ivers reached up to gingerly touch his wound. "She does enjoy rough play, as I'm sure you know."
His gut heaving, Dare abruptly backed away and stumbled from the room, too stricken even to think of calling Ivers out. He felt as if his heart had been ripped from his chest…
Feeling his head spin now, Dare pressed a hand to his temple. Had he been too swift to condemn Julienne? She hadn't refuted Ivers's claim, certainly. What words had she used precisely? I am sorry. He had taken that for an admission of guilt…
Dear God, could he have been so wrong? Had she been a victim all along? Or was it his memory now that was at fault? It had happened so long ago. And his own devastation might have led his recollections of that cataclysmic event to change over the years-
"My Lord Wolverton?" A grim female voice interrupted his churning thoughts. "May I be of assistance?"
Dare looked up to find a dark-haired woman perhaps in her mid-twenties standing in a corner near the counter, adding a plume to a bonnet. Her rather plump face seemed vaguely familiar.
"Do you know me?" he asked, frowning.
Her expression remained grave. "Yes, my lord. You were once my mistress's suitor. I could never forget you."
For an instant Dare saw a flash of something like antipathy flash in her blue eyes. Puzzled, he advanced farther into the shop. "You were Miss Laurent's sales clerk seven years ago."
"Yes… Rachel Grimble. I am now the proprietor."
Her antipathy was clearer now. Her tone held none of the deference a shopkeeper usually showed a nobleman of his consequence. Rather it held contempt.
"You seem to hold me in dislike, Miss Grimble."
"I have good reason, my lord-because of what you did to Miss Laurent. Or perhaps I should say, what you did not do."
"I trust you mean to explain?"