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Didn’t he know what could happen if Cambridge found out what she had? Didn’t he know what would happen if Cambridge found out what she’d done?
    She lifted her chin. Blood pounded in her head, roaring against her ears with alarming ferocity. “Please go,” she said.
    A dangerous silence stretched between them. It sent tremors of dread pulsing through her. She felt his eyes boring into her back. Felt his dominance trapping her in his clutches. Realized the threat he was to her. Somehow she knew Ethan Cambridge was a master at being ruthless, where Stephen had only been adept at deceit. And this man would move heaven and earth to take her treasure away from her. This man would do whatever he must to see that justice was served.
    “Did you love him so much you cannot bear to part with anything he gave you? Or is it your hatred for him that drives you to keep what is not yours?”
    She stiffened. His words hit her like a wall of freezing water. She lowered her gaze, unable to face his penetrating eyes.
    “Did you care that much for Stephen, or did you care only for the title he could give you? Are you that greedy to keep such a treasure to yourself, regardless of how much its loss will mean to his family? Especially to Stephen’s mother?”
    She bolted to her feet. “How dare you accuse me of taking anything from you or your family. Your family has taken more from me than anyone should have to give up. Stephen—”
    If the repercussion to telling the truth had not been so devastating, she would have gained a sense of self-satisfaction in telling him. But he could never know what had happened. If he wanted to think she missed Stephen that much, let him.
    She twisted away and clutched her hand to her forehead when the room swayed beneath her feet. From the corner of her eye, she saw him reach for her. “Leave me be,” she intoned, swinging her arm out to keep him away. She would not let him touch her. She would not let him help her. There was no one left to help her.
    She wiped her damp palms on her black bombazine skirt and leaned against the corner of the small writing desk.
    “Excuse me, mistress,” Palmsworth interrupted from the doorway, “but Mr. Sydney Craddock is here.”
    Abigail looked up as her father’s longtime solicitor entered the room.
    “I’m so sorry I’m late, Miss Langdon,” Sydney said, rushing into the room. “I meant to be here hours ago, but my carriage lost a wheel and I—” Sydney’s attention suddenly focused on Abigail’s guest, and his words died on his tongue. “Mr. Cambridge,” he exclaimed in surprise. “I had no idea. What a pleasure, sir.”
    “Sydney,” Cambridge greeted with a curt nod.
    “I did not expect you to be here, but of course you would, seeing as how your brother was once betrothed to Miss Langdon.”
    “I have asked Mr. Cambridge to leave, but he has refused. Any connection our families had in the past was severed long ago.”
    Abigail prided herself on the shocked look on Sydney’s face and watched as the solicitor stuttered to cover her rudeness.
    “Surely you are glad to have someone of Mr. Cambridge’s vast knowledge and experience with you at such a time. I have come with your father’s will, and I am sure you will feel more comfortable with someone so astute to help you. There are some very delicate matters involved with the estate and the shipping interests. Far more than you can be expected to understand, especially at a time like this.”
    Abigail bristled. “No,” she said, her voice an unladylike growl that contained more hysteria than composure. “I do not want—”
    Ethan held up a hand that stopped her words, then turned his attention to Sydney. “Is it necessary for Miss Langdon to go over this now? Perhaps it would be best if she could wait until tomorrow to hear her father’s will. I think she has been through enough for one day.”
    “Well, I—”
    Cambridge stood at his chair, a gesture that indicated the subject was