by Anna Edwards
“I want the guard who killed him. I’m going to tear him apart, limb by limb.”
“So dramatic.” My father rolls his eyes
“Reggie wasn’t just staff. He’s been more of a father figure in my life than you’ve ever been”
“Well that explains the weakness in you, then. He always did pander to your whims when I thought you should be beaten black and blue, to instill some balls into you. I should’ve had someone stick a knife in his chest years ago.”
“Give me the guard,” I repeat.
You’ve more important things to worry about than the staff.” He hands me the tablet.
“What’s this?”
“I thought you would like to watch the woman you love.”
I swipe the screen quickly, and it brings Victoria up. She’s in a dimly lit room, but I can make out her silhouette.
“Miss Hamilton” ‒my father addresses her, and she jumps‒ “I trust you had a good evening with my son. I know you were expecting him to come back and whisk you away into a happy ever after, but I’m afraid I can’t allow that to happen. I don’t believe you’d be the best choice for Duchess of Oakfield. You’re what I’d call ‘a little too headstrong’. Alas, I have to go through the rules, and you must be given a chance.”
“Fuck you,” Victoria shouts out into the darkness, and I smirk at her bravery.
“I don’t do sloppy seconds, Miss Hamilton. I’m afraid you are spoiled goods, now. When I prove it, I’ll have you executed for your disregard of the rules, but, for now, this is much more fun.”
“Let her go!” I snarl at my father.
“Nicholas?” Victoria must hear my voice.
“I’m here.”
“Don’t give into his demands. Remember, I’m stronger than I look.”
I smile because I have a feeling that my father is the one who’s doing the underestimating of the situation, when it comes to Victoria.
“I won’t.”
“Hush,” my father snaps. “Miss Hamilton, you have half an hour to retrieve a painting from the vault you are in. If you fail to do it in that time, then you’re at the mercy of the collector. I’d wish you good luck, but I’d be lying. Your time starts now.”
My father takes the headset off his head and throws it on the floor. I stare down at the screen, and the lights come on. I don’t recognize where she is but breathe a sigh of relief as I know it’s not The Louvre, in Paris. The Mona Lisa isn’t the picture she’ll seek.
“Victoria isn’t headstrong. She’ll make a good Duchess of Oakfield.”
“She’ll destroy the rules, and the society will be left penniless.”
“Is that such a bad thing?” I ask. “Haven’t enough people died?”
My father yawns. “You’ve become such a bore. That’s why I’ve had to do things this way. You gave me no choice. It’s your mother’s fault. She put weak genes in William, and they seem to have gone in you as well.”
The door behind him creeks, and Elizabeth Sandford appears in the doorway.
“Your Grace, she drapes her arm around my father. He greets her with a kiss on the cheek and pats her stomach.
Oh, Fuck!
“There’s only one way that this will end, Nicholas, and it won’t be with you marrying Victoria. You'll marry Elizabeth and claim my son as your own. You'll then disappear, taking the bitch with you if she survives, and you still want her. I don’t care. You'll leave me with the title until my, sorry, your son comes of age. I'll do this again. This time correctly and without your mother’s weakness. Elizabeth Sandford is perfect for the mother of a Duke.”
“Go to hell.” I spit at them both. “Elizabeth Sandford is a title grabbing bitch. She’d just as soon stab me in the back as she would you.”
Elizabeth smirks but doesn’t deny the accusation.
“And that’s why I trust her better than anyone. She’s a devil, just like me. She’s what you should be. We'll raise a boy together who’ll make this society the greatest it’s ever been. We'll eclipse the royal family for whom the society was originally designed, to provide them with our support. We'll become the royal family. Everyone will bow to us. Worship us. We'll be gods.
“You’re delusional and will be thrown into a mental asylum.”
My father laughs.
“Actually, maybe I should have you declared insane, instead of making you disappear. That would be fun.”
“Please, stop now. This is no longer your decision to make,” I plead with my father. I’m pretty sure I’m wasting my breath, though, especially when he stabs a pudgy finger at the screen of the tablet that I’m holding.
“You’ll do this, Nicholas, or she’ll die in that room. There'll be no way out with the picture that she’s stealing.”
“No.”
Elizabeth kisses my father’s cheek.
“I’m glad I chose the father over the son. He’s a fool.”
“He is, and one who’s about to watch the woman he loves die.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
VICTORIA
I squint as the artificial lights turn on and flood into my sensitive eyes. It takes me a few seconds to adjust to my surroundings, and what I have to do. The society, or rather the incumbent Duke of Oakfield, wants me to steal a painting, and he’s talking to me through an earpiece. My heart beats fast. I can’t do this. I’m not a thief and wouldn’t have the first clue on how to steal a painting and get away with it. I could stand there and appreciate the brushstrokes for hours, but other than that, I’m probably screwed.
The world comes into focus and my breath hitches. I know exactly where I am. I’m back in my home, well, in the vaults underneath, which my father uses for a safe. It dawns on me what’s going on, and just what picture I need to steal. When I first became interested in art, my father took me to a sale at Sotheby’s in London. I fell in love with the place and the notion that decent paintings could be sold in this manner. Up until that point, all of the art that I’d researched was primarily on the walls of museums. We’d walked around for hours looking at the pictures, but every time I came back to the same one. A Van Gogh painting of roses. It wasn’t a prestigious one in the art world, but I fell in love with it. When the auction started, I stood in shock and watched as my father bought it for me. I can’t remember the exact price, but it was a lot of money. At the time, I thought I was a fortunate girl and had a father who worshipped me. I know better, now. My father doesn’t have much other valuable artwork, mostly paintings of ancestors by obscure artists from the time, but the Van Gogh will be the one I’m here to steal. Oh, the irony, I have to take a painting that already belongs to me. I should call out for my father and demand he opens the safe, so I can walk out of here with it. But I suspect that’s not the game the Duke of Oakfield wants to play.
I shut my eyes and try to think back about the security system my father has. I know it's state of the art because the vaults contain family jewels worth a lot more than the painting. Lasers are protecting the area around the safe, and there's a code to get into it. I know the code by heart. It’s the date that he made his debut for the English polo team. He was a phenomenal player in his youth — he still is. Shame I’ll never get to see it again, not that I want to. I grind my teeth together in anger. When I get out of this, I’m going to talk to Nicholas about confronting my father and making him pay. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and my daddy will reap what he sowed. But for now, I need to figure out how I can get past these lasers, which, should I touch one, will lock down the room and call security guards to arrest me.
Thankfully, the Duke dressed me appropriately. I’ve got a black cat suit on. It’s all very Catherine Zeta-Jones in the film where she tried to steal artwork. I’m pretty confident that to be a member of this society, which Nicholas will one day rule, you have to think with your dick, not your brain. It must be in the initiation process — if you can pass a math’s test you are out, but if you can drool over a topless woman and masturbate in a room full of strange
rs, then you’re a candidate for membership. My temper is rising. I want to damn them all to hell, but for now, I have to play the game. Thankfully, I’ve done Yoga and Pilates ever since I can remember — I’m flexible and have good balance. I get down on the floor. The first laser beam — I know it to be about hip height. I slide under it and over to the left, as the next beam dissects from a ninety-degree angle to the right. I get to my feet and step over the third, which is only ankle height but awkward because another beam comes straight down to it from the roof. I have to press myself against the wall to pass it.
I stop to get my breath. I don’t know how, maybe it’s because the Duke is twisted, but I know Nicholas is watching me. I can sense it in my body. I duck under a head height beam. My back still aches a little from the beating I received, and I’m a bit stiff from my exploits with Nicholas last night, but I’m determined to do this, to show the Duke he'll not win. I have three beams left. I shut my eyes and picture them. One on my left dissected by a waist height barrier and the last one coming down from the right. I can’t help it — my hands start to shake. My father always said that his guards will ask questions, only, after they shoot whoever tries to steal from his vaults. I have to get this right, or I could gain yet more wounds, which might not heal as well as the physical and emotional ones that I already have. I take a deep breath and maneuver my body through the last three lasers. I make it. I want to jump and shout but decide on quiet being the better course of action. With shaking fingers, I enter the code into the safe door, and it opens. I’m so nervous that a fine layer of sweat has appeared on my body, and the sound of my teeth chattering together, fills the room. I inch into the room and past my family heirlooms. I’m tempted to take them with me to spite my father, but that would only hurt my brother in the long run. God, I hope that Theo doesn’t know about the society. I don’t think I could bear knowing that he’s a part of it. I continue past the jewelry to where the picture is hung on the wall. I take both sides of it.
“Is this what you want, Your Grace? You going to put it in pride of place next to the stolen poppy picture? or with some of your other ill-gotten gains?”
Laughter echoes in my ear.
“I see my son is a talker during sex.”
“No, not during. He’s just got manners and talks to a lady after he’s fucked her into oblivion. Mind you, I believe you just fuck a lady into a hospital.” I’m finished with the politeness. “I’ve done what you’ve asked. I have the picture — now, get me out of here and let me see Nicholas. Your time as the Duke is over, retire quietly, and I’m sure we won’t destroy everything you’ve worked for.”
“You don’t have the picture, yet,” he retorts with a gravelly malevolence.
I pull the picture off the wall, and an alarm sounds.
Shit!
I’ve messed up badly. I forgot the hidden wire over the front of the picture. The vault door slams shut. I drop the picture to the floor and wait for my death.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
NICHOLAS
“Victoria,” I call out at the screen when the piercing alarms start to sound. “What’s happening?” I step closer to my father with my fists balled, but he stands there unaffected and continuing his eerie laughing.
“She was so close but allowed her temper to get the better of her and messed up. Now, she dies.”
I lose it and grab him by the throat, pinning him against the wall.
“Put a stop to this now.”
“Henry,” Elizabeth screams and tries to pull me off, but she has no hope. I’ll have blood on my hands in a minute, unless my father calls off the guards.
“You know my terms, Nicholas. You want me to put a stop to this then you marry Elizabeth and disappear never to be seen again,” he spits into my face.
“I want William,” I counter.
“He stays here. I’ll not have him embarrassing my name with his weirdness.”
“He’s not weird — he’s autistic.”
“He’s as crazy as his mother was. Now, make a decision. Tick-tock, tick-tock.”
I push off the wall and stamp across the room and send my fist flying into the stone wall. I come off worse with what, I suspect, might be broken knuckles.
“Fuck!” I call.
“Tick-tock,” my father repeats.
“Fine. Stop this. I’ll marry Elizabeth.” I turn back and slump down the wall. “Just save her.”
My father presses a button on his tablet and struts across the room to throw it at me. I pick it up and see a figure, in the society’s livery, flash across the screen. One minute, Victoria is there, and the next, she’s gone. A few seconds later, a hail of bullets flood into the room and destroy the painting.
“She'll be kept in a safe place until you have upheld your part in this bargain. You'll prepare to leave at once. We travel to Scotland tonight. You’ll be married by the morning. Say goodbye to Oakfield.”
With those words, he leaves. I stare at the bullet-ridden painting. I wanted to save Victoria, marry her, and destroy the society, which has governed both our lives since the day we were born, but I’ve failed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
VICTORIA
I’m thrown into a dimly lit room by the man who swept me off my feet from my father’s vault. The door shuts, and a key turns in the lock. I scramble to my feet and try the handle, but to no avail, I’m locked in.
“Where’s Nicholas?” I shout but get no response. “Let me out!”
Nothing.
I kick the door — however, given that it’s solid oak, it hurts my foot more than it makes any damage, which could be used as a means of escape.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I jump around holding my sore toe. “Nicholas,” I try again. What the hell is going on? I look around the room that I’m in and realize that it’s my bedroom at Oakfield hall. The secret passages! I run across the room at a hobbling pace but don’t make it to the door before it opens, and William appears. I fling myself into his arms.
“Oh, thank god. We have to go. You know these passages. We’ve got to get out of here. I need to find Nicholas.”
I pull back and look up at him. He’s pale, and he opens and shuts his mouth like a fish, looking for words.
“William. What is it?” My heart sinks.
“Words. They’re funny. Normally, I have loads of them.” He flicks his hand over his hair a few times. His other hand is against the wall and tapping repeatedly. “I can’t find them.”
“William. Is Nicholas alright?” He’s scaring me. I’m fearing the worst, and my legs feel like they’re sinking to the floor in defeat.
“He’s gone.”
“Dead?” I whisper, my voice breaking.
William shakes his head rapidly in the negative, and I suck in a breath of relief.
“Words, William, find them,” he chastises himself.
“It’s alright. I’m here.” I hold the hand that isn’t tapping.
“I wanted my brain to work properly, so I could be good enough to save him. He and you could run away. I’ll be what the Duke wants, but I was made wrong. Miswired and a freak.”
“Hush. There’s nothing wrong with you. I need you to calm down, though, and tell me what’s going on. Come sit on the bed.” I lead the man who’s almost the spitting image of his older brother, except for a bit paler, over to the bed. I settle him down, take hold of his hand, and allow him to tap his comforting rhythm onto my leg.
“Nicholas has gone.” William won’t make eye contact with me. It’s a sign of his condition but also a result of his agitation.
“You said he’s alive? Where’s he gone?”
“Scotland.”
“Scotland?” I question.
“To marry.”
“Marry,” I repeat with dumbfounded shock.
“He chose Elizabeth as his wife — she’s pregnant.”
The walls I’ve built around me, to stay sharp, tumble down. I stand up and pace. My head is suddenly all over the place, fearin
g the worst.
“Elizabeth’s pregnant.”
“The Duke wants them married as soon as possible.” William still can’t look at me. This time, though, I know it’s because of the shame that he’s feeling for his brother’s actions.
“Elizabeth’s pregnant,” I repeat, and tears start to fall from my eyes. I’ve been played by the society again. Now, I see it was all a game. Nicholas is no different than his father. He warned me he was the devil, and I chose not to listen. I allowed myself to fall in love with him. I’m the biggest idiot on the planet. He was after whomever he could get pregnant first. He never had any intention of changing.
I look at William. He’s tapping a rhythm on the bed. Is it all an act with him as well? The whole fucking family played me. They’ve no respect for women. It’s all one big game to them.
“Get out!” I shout at him. He looks up and shakes his head.
“No.”
“Get out.” I step toward him and slap him hard on the face. “I hate you all. I’m sick of being a pawn in your twisted games. Go!”
“Victoria?” he stammers.
“Get out,” I scream and cover my ears, so I can’t hear any more of his lies. I screw my eyes shut, not wanting the reminder of my mistakes and foolishness in front of me, anymore. “I just want to go home. This is over. Nicholas has made his choice. Just let me go.”
I open my eyes and see William is by the door to the secret passageway in my room. He shakes his head.
“William?” Something’s wrong — I can sense it.
“I’m sorry. When you’re told that ‘you’re nothing’, you believe it. I wish I could help you, but I’m not strong enough. I don’t know how to.” He turns quickly and disappears into the passageway. The door closes behind him, and I hear it lock. No. That door is always open. Why is he locking it? I pull on the handle, but it doesn’t budge.
“William,” I call with trepidation but receive no response.