Free Once Upon a Scandal by Delilah Marvelle Page A

never have let him harm you!”
    She wasn’t worried about herself. She was worried about Grayson, whose head was now officially worth fifty pounds, thanks to her father. Flint suddenly dashed past her and into the dining hall, barking viciously, adding to the chaos as more shouts echoed down the corridor. She skidded out into the hallway, knowing that if there was anyone who could take on a tough until all the servants arrived, it was Grayson who spent most of his time boxing at Jackson’s.
    The crash of porcelain shattering against the floor exploded in the distance like thunder. She winced as she snapped toward the direction of the servants’ quarters. “Assistance is required in the dining hall!” she screamed, her voice echoing all around her. “In the dining hall! At once! Hurry!”
    Within moments, a group of male servants dashed past her and down the corridor, sprinting out of sight into the dining hall. Victoria gathered her skirts, turned and dashed after them.
    Flint’s barking grew steadily louder, as if he were insisting she move faster. She slid to a halt on her slippered heels, her breath escaping in uneven gasps, and paused, realizing everything had grown eerily quiet, aside from Flint’s barking.
    All the chairs lay toppled on their sides, and the linen on the table hung lopsided, barely clinging. Food, wine, crystal, china and porcelain lay scattered everywhere while—
    Her eyes widened as she caught sight of Grayson. He rigidly held a carving knife against the throat of the large man, pinning the man against the wall with his own body. Her father and the servants merely gawked.
    “Grayson!” Victoria rushed toward her cousin, reached out and grabbed hold of his wrist. She yanked back his arm, ignoring his resistance. She gritted her teeth and jerked the knife back and away from the man’s throat. “Grayson, don’t. Don’t do this. Please. Please, don’t.”
    Grayson’s chest rose and fell in visible heaves as he glanced toward her. His brown eyes sharpened with a blazing intent she’d never seen in all her two and twenty years.
    “Grayson,” she pleaded, digging her fingers into his wrist and edging his rigid arm farther back. Though her arm ached from the effort, she feared that if she let go, even for a moment, his arm would jump and slice that throat in a single sweep.
    Grayson’s resistance softened as he slowly lowered his arm and the blade. He stepped back, his gaze veering to the bearded man, who sagged against the wall with a breath.
    Grayson extended the knife toward her, tilting the edge of the steel toward himself. “Take it. Take it, before I use it and hang.”
    Oh, God.
    She scrambled toward him and pried the blade out of his hand. Turning, she tossed the carving knife toward the farthest corner of the room, away from them, where it clattered out of sight. She drew in several calming breaths and swiped her hands against her embroidered skirts, thankful it was out of his hand.
    “Now leave,” Grayson growled. “Leave before I slit more than your throat.”
    The man nodded, pushing away from the wall, and darted out of the dining hall, clearly relieved to have escaped.
    Victoria let out a breath, the pounding of her heart dulling. “Grayson…”
    Grayson jerked toward her and pointed at her, missing her nose by an inch. “Enough. Your father will be permanently moved out of this house and into my father’s care within the hour. Before you or he end up dead. You may call upon your father as often as you please, for however long you please, but therein ends your rule. If you oppose me in this, in any form, I will ensure he ends up in the Lock with the rest of the syphilitics and you never see him again. This isn’t a goddamn game! This is your life and whatever is left of his. Do you understand me?”
    Victoria fought to keep from sobbing. Grayson was right. He was right. She wasn’t capable of caring for her father, with his delusions progressing so rapidly. Though