She sat stunned, unable to move, barely able to breathe for the tightness that constricted her throat. Everything suddenly made sense. Cyril Farquharson had told the truth. The pieces of the puzzle had fallen into place to reveal the picture in full. She knew now why Lucien had been so determined to save her from Farquharson, why the wealthy Earl Tregellas had plucked a plain little nobody from beneath that fiend’s nose to make her his wife. For in truth it was not Lord Farquharson who was the fiend at all—that title belonged to her husband. He had married her for nothing more than to exact revenge upon Farquharson, to do unto Farquharson precisely what the Baron had done unto him. Madeline Langley was just the silly little fool who had lent herself as the weapon of his vengeance. And that vengeance had not been for her. It had never been for her. It was for another woman from across the years who had betrayed him.All talk of saving her from Farquharson, of protection, was just a lie.
