Page 96 of Courting Claudia

He eyed her for a moment. “What do you want to know?”

“Did you have anything to do with the embezzlement he was accused of?”

“Where are you getting these ideas?” Then he released a laugh that snaked up her spine. “From your damned husband?”

She lifted her chin. Be strong, Claudia. “As a matter of fact.” She retrieved the parchment from her bag. “He has this article ready for his paper that implicates you in quite a few crimes. I came to ask you if any of his allegations are true.”

His eyes narrowed and focused on the paper she clutched to her chest. “So you don’t believe him?”

She didn’t want to answer that. She didn’t want to believe Derrick, but deep inside she knew the accusations were true. She felt it. But even that made her question. What if her instincts were wrong? Again.

She needed to give her father one last chance, an opportunity to be truthful with her. She could forgive his transgressions, if he cared for her enough to be honest.

“I merely wanted to hear your side of the story,” she said.

“I have no side.” He waved his hand in front of him and nearly lost his balance. “Your husband is a liar. He’s trying to set me up. He printed that other story years ago, and Edwards offed himself because of it.” He shrugged. “Now I suppose he’s trying to get me to do the same thing. But it won’t work.” He pointed a bony finger at her. “No one will believe him.”

She took a deep breath and swallowed the fear and anger that threatened to consume her. “His evidence is quite compelling.”

“It’s all lies.” He stumbled across the room and poured himself another drink, half of which sloshed onto his desk. “Richard Foxmore was a liar too. He promised he’d marry you, the spineless cur. And you! I told you to do whatever you could to trap him, but no, you’d already lifted your skirt for that bastard Middleton. You just can’t trust people to do things right. If you want something done, you’re better off just doing it yourself.”

She winced as her last threads of hope frayed away. Her father didn’t love her. He never had. He wasn’t looking out for her best interest. He was, and always had been, manipulating everyone around him to fit in some master plan. Derrick’s story was right. Every word of it. Her father was a calculating murderer.

Footsteps sounded in the hall. The door opened, and she saw Derrick out of the corner of her eye. Relief washed over her quickly, followed by a sickening fear that almost made her sink to the floor.

“Claudia, I’d like for you to come home with me now. There is much we need to discuss.” His tone was even and soft.

“He’s a bastard, that husband of yours,” her father said, speaking of him as if Derrick hadn’t just entered the room. “Clearly he married you just to print that rubbish. He needed you to validate his story. Without the connection to you, no one would ever believe him.”

It was the same thing Richard had said that day in the garden. The very same thought that had raced through her head when she’d read the article. Derrick had used her to further his paper’s reputation; to put himself back in the public as a serious writer. Regardless of her father’s guilt or innocence, Derrick had used her, and it hurt. And here and now, Derrick said nothing to dispute it.

It had been easy to trust him, but he’d twisted that trust and convinced her to trust her instincts. She’d been such a fool. From the very beginning, she’d known that Derrick didn’t want her, couldn’t possibly want her. He had to have been after something. He’d admitted as much when they got married. But she’d foolishly thought the charade had ended there. She never imagined he’d orchestrated this elaborate plan.

She’d spent her entire life fighting her feelings, trying her damnedest to squelch her emotions and put on a more appropriate façade. And he’d come along and convinced her she didn’t have to do that, convinced her simply to trust herself. She’d allowed it too, let go of propriety, turned her back on her father, and trusted her own instincts.

But now she wasn’t so certain her instincts were wise. Because even now in the midst of Derrick’s betrayal, her heart screamed for her to wait, not jump to conclusions, to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Tears stung the backs of her eyes, blurring her view of her father as he bent to retrieve something.

She needed to keep her father talking. She desperately wanted a confession out of him. “What does Derrick have to gain by ruining your reputation?” she asked.

“I’m an important man, Claudia. Calling into question my reputation would sell twice as many papers as he usually sells. Don’t be so daft.”

A flash of metal caught her eye, and she saw a pistol dangling from her father’s right hand. She took a brief moment to absorb the situation—she’d never had to fear for her life before and was surprised that she was not afraid. There was no way for her to escape. If she turned to run, he could easily shoot her in the back. She hadn’t a clue what kind of aim her father had, but she was so close, he would be hard pressed to miss.

She saw the sheen of metal as her father raised the gun and aimed it at Derrick, and her blood chilled. Despite her husband’s betrayal, she loved him, and she would not allow her father to take him away.

“Claudia, come with me.” Derrick held his hand out to her, but his eyes never left her father.

“She’s not going anywhere,” her father said.

Derrick took a step forward.

Her father moved the gun so that it pointed at her. “Don’t take another step. I’ll kill her.”

“You don’t want to kill her.” Derrick’s voice was even. “I’m the one you want.”

What did she do now? Someone was going to get shot. She let the feelings wash over her, gauged her surroundings. Her father’s face was contorted with rage. Derrick seemed calm, although his hands clenched at his sides.