Mastering the Marquess by Vanessa Kelly Page A

and your son remove yourselves immediately. If you wish to talk about their situation in greater detail, you may accompany me to my house, where, perhaps, we can discuss this as civilized men.”
    Isaac’s beefy hands clenched into fists. Meredith closed her eyes, sick with fear that a terrible brawl would erupt right in the middle of her sitting room. At least, she thought desperately, that might give her the chance to get Annabel out of the room and out of the house.
    Her eyes snapped open and she grabbed her sister’s arm, ready to drag her out to the hall as soon as the fighting began.
    But the mayhem failed to materialize. Much to Meredith’s surprise, Jacob suddenly gripped Isaac’s arm.
    â€œFather.” He uttered only the one word, but the warning was clear in his voice.
    Isaac impatiently tried to shake the restraining hand from his arm. Jacob tightened his grasp and refused to let go, willing his father to meet his gaze. Isaac finally switched his attention from Silverton to his son. For a few moments they simply stared at one another as an unspoken communication passed between them.
    Meredith darted a glance at Silverton, who stood calmly in the center of the room, continuing to hold Robert’s wrist in a light clasp. In spite of herself, a hysterical urge to laugh bubbled up within her. Silverton was utterly serene in the face of her uncle’s frightening behavior. In fact, she thought as she peered at him, he was beginning to get that increasingly familiar look of boredom on his face. She almost expected him to extract his snuffbox and inhale a pinch, simply for lack of anything better to do.
    The tension in her body began to ebb.
    Isaac finally shook his arm free of his son’s hold. He glowered at Silverton but had obviously given up the idea of resorting to fisticuffs.
    â€œYou may be unaware, my lord,” her uncle spat the title out with contempt, “but I am Annabel’s legal guardian and have full control over both her person and her assets. Do you care to dispute that in a court of law?”
    Silverton dropped Robert’s wrist, his eyes suddenly gleaming with amusement.
    â€œBy all means, Mr. Burnley,” he responded affably. “I know several magistrates at the Court of Chancery who will be happy to see us, if I make such a request. You will be relieved to hear that I have a personal acquaintance with many of them. I am sure I can arrange for the particulars of this situation to be heard without any further delay.”
    He paused, and Meredith couldn’t quite believe her eyes when he actually did extract a snuffbox from his coat pocket and flip it open, availing himself of a tiny pinch with an elegant flick of his wrist.
    â€œOf course,” he mused thoughtfully, “I will feel it necessary to inform the magistrate—Sir Reginald Phillips comes to mind as one who might be available—that you intend to incarcerate your niece in a madhouse when she is quite obviously not a lunatic.”
    Meredith glanced warily at her uncle, who looked as if he wanted to wrap his fleshy hands around the marquess’s throat and throttle him.
    Silverton returned his snuffbox to his pocket. “If you are ready, Mr. Burnley, perhaps we can adjourn to the Inns immediately. I fail to see the point in letting this unpleasant situation go unresolved any longer. If you care to follow me, then we can just step up the street and hail two hackneys.”
    Silverton continued to stare impassively at Isaac, although a slight smile softened the edges of his mouth. “I will be sure to give the hackney driver exact directions so that you will not get lost driving through the city,” he finished helpfully.
    Guttural noises emerged from Isaac’s throat. He spun around and glared at Meredith and Annabel.
    â€œThis isn’t over. You may think you have the high and mighty to protect you now, but the law is on my side. And you,” he said, sneering