The thought of his kindness, however, softened Venetia’s heart and she relaxed slightly. His fingers pressed gently in on her spine as he whirled her in the waltz.
“I…” He stopped, examining her face, and then rather than whatever he was going to say, he simply began to tell her the story of packing Alice’s things to drag her along when they’d gone to rescue Alice’s husband, Hugh, from the rogue werewolf who’d shot him.
“She didn’t tell it like that in her letters,” Venetia said. The story had relaxed her far more than anything else. She could only imagine how Alice must have been feeling as she’d been unexpectedly compromised by Hugh Darcy and then engaged to be married without preparation or love. She must have been reeling and horrified, Venetia thought. Alice’s desire for real love was a defining characteristic. She would have stayed single forever rather than accept some shallow substitute. How horrible it must have been when she had found herself betrothed to someone she barely knew.
“Oh, poor Alice,” Venetia said as Lord Stanwullf described Alice slamming out of her own room while the men packed her things. “Also, I am not sure I believe that His Grace packed a thing.’
“Oh he did. He’s blundering badly with Miss Crestwell, I agree. But he’d do anything for us. Alice was Hugh’s betrothed. Once you’re family, Rhys is unstoppable in keeping you happy and safe. I don’t understand, however, why was that horrible? My story was supposed to amuse you.”
Venetia examined Lord Stanwullf’s face to see if he were joking. Any young lady here would have understood her comment, but he was entirely oblivious. “Alice was being…compelled into an engagement.”
“Yes, but…”
“To someone who had given her no promises of love—or for that matter anything else.” Venetia’s voice carried a hint of fury, but how could he possibly be so obtuse. How hard had it been for dear, sweet Alice to leave behind Mariah and Algernon to travel with these idiot wolves? “She didn’t even know his name when he claimed her like some piece of property. He could have been anyone. He could have been horrible. A monster.”
“But she’d taken care of him for days. Hugh told me he fell in love with her as she played the violin-cello and read to him as he healed. They had far more alone time than many a couple who marries among this ridiculous people.”
Venetia was suddenly barely able to keep her anger back. She could hardly believe that he was such an idiot. He was telling this…this story as if it were not terrible. As if she could be amused. He was so blind to the feelings of others, of Alice, who Venetia adored—that she could hardly stand the sight of his face.
He seemed to realize he had stumbled into a sensitive area but if he hadn't, he would quickly have realized. When Venetia explained each word was clear and precise—separated from the other so she could be sure he heard her. “He had told her nothing about himself. He took her up like she was a lost puppy and he had decided to keep her. He treated her like an object who should just be grateful for his attention. He foisted his life on her and expected her to be happy.”
“That isn’t…”
Venetia didn’t let him finish, “That is how it was. It turned out well, but it could have been a nightmare that never stopped.”
She wasn’t talking about Alice anymore—it was her parents on her mind now. The woman who had fallen into love and horror. Who had married hoping for the best and ended with a nightmare. Who hadn’t been strong enough to leave until she was too weak to live. Who had engineered a situation where Venetia had been left alone and friendless having to struggle alone for survival. Her mother had failed herself and Venetia.
That was how it could have ended for Alice--in a bathtub with razors and blood, leaving behind a little girl who didn’t know what to do. A part of Venetia knew that Alice would never have done as Venetia's mother, but it didn't matter.
Venetia broke away from Lord Stanwullf. It was unacceptable and rude, but this moment wasn’t for dancing. It was for leaving.
“Please excuse me,” she said.
And then she left. She headed towards the withdrawing room but passed the door, walked outside, found their groom and had herself taken home. She sent the carriage back for her uncle and Antigone with a note to explain her actions. She shouldn’t have. But she did.
She and her friend had previously arranged to come back to Malvern House together. But, Antigone didn’t join Venetia in her room. Which was for the best, since Venetia spent the evening staring out at the stars, remembering her past, and wishing that she weren’t so broken.
Chapter Eleven
“Are you well,” Antigone asked as the horses pulled away from the house. The clip-clop of the hooves was already making Venetia want to curl into a ball. Or perhaps that was the guilt. Uncle Bradford had said nothing about her behavior the previous evening. She’d written a note to be delivered to the Wells that said she had come over ill and left so as not to disturb the joy of the others. Her paleness had been enough of an explanation for Uncle Bradford who sighed at the sight of her wan and listless and then hugged her close. He handed her into the carriage and asked Antigone to bring his baby back happy and healthy.
Antigone had promised to do so.
Uncle Bradford had then turned to Venetia and made her promise to bathe in the sea, spend too much money, eat too many sweets, and sleep too much. He had seen the memories in her gaze and the tight set to her lips, and he frowned as he stepped back.
“I love you both,” he said as he shut the carriage door. It was just what she needed to hear as they left their home behind.
“Lord Stanwullf looked flummoxed,” Antigone said without preamble. “It was a beautiful sight. One I hope repeats on His Grace’s face when he realizes we’ve left.”
“Good,” Venetia said shortly. She told herself she didn’t care. That there wasn’t a tremble in her heart that begged her to turn around, to throw herself into Oliver’s arms, and beg first for his forgiveness and second that he save her from the nightmares.
“I am not your enemy, dear one,” Antigone said idly. Venetia knew that Antigone referred to the tone Venetia had used. And that was fair, but her head hurt and she wanted to sleep for days but knew it wouldn't happen which left Venetia feeling listless and hopeless. Perhaps with some sea air? Perhaps the sounds of the little city? Perhaps something would snap her out of these doldrums.
“I don't want to think of him or these last weeks,” Venetia replied, knowing her voice was tight but unable to help it.
“Shall we make our further travel plans then?” Antigone was forcing her voice to be light and airy rather than worry-filled, but Venetia was not fooled.
“Would you mind very much if I were just to sleep on your shoulder?”
“Of course not. I’d prefer to make our travel plans myself anyway.”
Venetia laughed. It was unashamedly true and there was joy in letting Antigone choose.
“We have the house in Arathe-By-The-Sea for eight weeks?”
“Yes and then Amour. I want an entirely new wardrobe I think. I am giving everything to Betty as soon as the first of my new dresses are completed.”
Betty was the maid and she’d be delighted. Both maids—Betty and Johanna traveled separately and ahead of them to ensure that the house was ready when they arrived. The idea that someone traveled ahead shocked the soul of the girl from the mortal realm, but she didn’t deny the luxury and comfort of it.
Venetia stopped listening as Antigone chattered. She knew that her words would let Venetia slip into sleep far more than quiet thoughts would. Quiet thoughts led to memories and then nightmares. Mindless, happy, chatter let her slip into an untroubled sleep.
* * * * *
Two days of traveling preceded by days of nightmares left Venetia in an exhaustion induced fog. She didn’t find her way out until she smelled the ocean. The wind was blowing fiercely as they arrived but that didn’t stop the two of them from bypassing the house they’d taken and heading straight to the boardwalk by the
sea. Within minutes, she’d ditched her shoes and dipped her toes into the water. It was, perhaps, scandalous—for Kendawyners. But right then Venetia was remembering days as Valerie and chasing the waves in a tiny swimsuit, with the sun heating her skin, as she ran and ran and ran. It was one of the few good memories she had of the mortal realm. She wished there were more. Perhaps if there were, she wouldn't feel so very broken now.
“Do you think they’ll follow?” Venetia asked as the wind blew away some of the fog in her mind.
“Of course they will,” the voice was from behind them and the two friends spun.
“Alice,” they said in unison, grabbing her for a hug before stepping back to frown at her—except—Alice was with child. Venetia’s and Antigone’s gaze met and the scold they were about to let loose withered.
“Hah!” Alice said and then laughed in earnest as she saw them swallow their fury. “How horrible have they been?”
“Dogged,” Venetia began, but Antigone took over.
“Dog in the manger, aggressive, possessive and with no encouragement. They are the two most maddening men ever.” Antigone breathed out through her nose, eyes closed, as she tried to keep back the anger she felt for Alice.
“Yes,” Alice said. “Yes I thought they would bungle it.”
“But why?” Venetia’s words were soft. She felt—she realized she felt almost betrayed and it came out in her tone of voice.
“Oh, Vee…” Alice took a breath, snuck her arms through her two friends’ arms and said softly. “They are horrible and aggressive and ignore whatever social cues they don't want to see. And they’re kind and protective and loving and wonderful. They’re good and bad, and each of them wants so badly to love and be loved.”
“But why,” Venetia said again her voice breaking.
Alice knew Venetia’s past. Alice knew all of it—Antigone’s secret, everything.
“The truth about Antigone isn’t going to stay hidden forever. But if anyone can keep people’s mouths shut and protect her, it is His Grace, Duke of Few Would Dare to Cross Me. And Venetia—everyone isn’t like your father was, and I honestly and truly think that Oliver can make you happy. Is it so awful that I believe that in my heart? And when he asked me for help in finding someone to love, how could I ignore that plea? He’s the only man I know who fits you in my head and I…I just couldn’t ignore that request.”
“I wish you would have,” Antigone said. “Poor Vee is having nightmares again, I feel like a rabbit during the full moon, and those men are maddening.”
“They are,” Alice nodded not even trying to pretend that she didn’t know exactly what they were like—they were, after all, variations of her Hugh.
“How,” Antigone said the word so starkly, with so much wonder, it took the others a moment to register her question. “Did you ever fall in love with one?”
“Well,” Alice said, squeezing their arms and pausing to say, “It’s hard to explain. It sort of just happens and then you find yourself adored and spoiled, and that part is really quite wonderful. I know you’re angry with me right now, but I am so happy to be with you again.”
Venetia squeezed Alice’s arm back. Alice's happiness radiated from her face like a sun ray and even though Venetia was angry with Alice—it was wonderful to see her so happy.
“What are you doing here?” Antigone asked. The anger had left her voice. “How did you know we’d be coming?”
“Well I do know you. Quite well. And, I wanted to come to the seashore. I have to resign myself to Hugh’s beloved childhood home while not letting him know that I’m doing that.”
“What’s wrong with his home?”
“It’s a castle,” Alice said dryly.
“What like—a manor house that looks like a castle?” Antigone asked, eyebrows furrowing as she tried to understand.
“No,” Alice said. “It’s a castle. It would make your feet hurt to walk all its halls—and it would take hours. I've gotten lost so many times. It is massive. There are parts where people don’t go—it’s so big. It’s…it’s…it’s… It has a moat! And towers! Acre upon acre of forest and hallways and servants and so many, many servants. I have been lost five times. Five! Probably more.”
“Sounds awful,” Venetia said dryly. “Oh no, my beloved husband has exactly what all the other girls dream of—it’s so terrible.”
“Shush,” Alice said without heat. “I know. I’m the awful one. I just had this vision. This cozy little country house, a little kitchen garden, a servant or two. Playing the violin-cello and walking with little girls who had bows on the ends of their braids.”
Antigone laughed at the earnest details, but Venetia could suddenly see it. And perhaps she suddenly wanted something similar. Mischief filled gazes, so much giggling and laughter. Oh no, she thought, no, no, no.
Alice continued through the laughter, “Being married to Hugh—while better than I could have ever imagined. Is different from what I imagined too.”
“You know,” Antigone said as they strolled along without regard to the individuals in finery who passed them by, the shop windows with their wares, the clatter of horses hooves in the street—they were absorbed in one another, “just because you are happily married doesn’t mean that Venetia and I want the same things as you.”
“I know that,” Alice said. This time it was her voice that was soft and, perhaps, a little pleading. “And I know you. I know that you are powerful and strong and may not be able to keep the world from finding out your…secret. But that you are capable of defending and protecting yourself. And I know that Venetia is healing from her childhood and may not fall in love.”
“Then why…” Antigone’s confusion was clear.
“I know you back, you know. I know that you love being with the friends who you see as family. I know that you adore children. I know that the problem you have with marriage isn’t marriage for itself. It’s that you are afraid you will not be able to trust who you are to just anyone. I know that you’re protecting children you’ve never had by not having them. But I also know—if someone were strong enough to protect them with you—you wouldn’t object so much to having a family. In fact, I think you would relish it.”
“And you honestly think I can trust the controlling, obtuse, demanding, horrible Duke.”
“Oh,” Alice laughed, “I think you need to crush and humble him first. You need to teach him that he might be a prize to the random young pretty faces among the ton but you are not just anyone and you are the prize. Then, yes. Absolutely. Without question. Rhys will protect you and care for you simply because I love you. Whether you allow him into your life or not, you're his now. Because you're mine. That’s his way. He’s already on your side, he’s just irritating right now. Once you see the love in what he does, the way every single thing he does is to protect his own—by both helping them to find happiness and keeping others from taking that happiness away. Without question, you can trust Rhys Knighton with all that you are.”
“Without question,” Antigone said with a mocking little huff.
“When Hugh was shot—he called on Rhys. I know you haven’t met Hugh, so that doesn’t necessarily pause you. But Antigone, Hugh is an Earl in his own right, a powerful werewolf, and wealthy. And yet, among all those alpha werewolves of the Wolfemuir Clan—they turn, without pause to Rhys. Every single time. Yes, I think that Rhys—if he loved you and you loved him back—he could give you what you won't let yourself want."
Venetia listened, but she felt no need to ask Alice about Oliver. Venetia was brutally honest with herself as often as possible. So, at that moment, with the breeze in her face, and the sound of the ocean in the distance, and her horror of the last days of dreams fading in the city she loved—she knew that Oliver matched her.
It wasn’t any one thing about him, but the way he looked at her when he focused his gaze on her. The way he laughed at the tricks they’d played on him. The way he was learning her as if she were some rare and delightful thing. He wa
s a Lord. And he’d listened to the words of a cousin-in-law that society was certain Alice had trapped her husband into marriage. He ignored what his friends thought and turned to Alice listening and acting on her advice.
And how could Venetia not be a little softened by the thought of Oliver Bentworth asking Alice for help in finding someone to love him. Venetia—in the deepest part of her heart—was charmed. Both, by his actions and the way he seemed to be delighted by Venetia. He seemed to be the one who was charmed. Who was lost in whatever this was—.
She didn’t know what to make of it, and she didn’t know if it mattered.
The truth was—he couldn’t take away her past. And she couldn’t pretend that marriage in a society that almost never divorced didn’t terrify her. Her mother—she’d lived among those for whom marriage was nearly expected—and she’d still been helpless to leave. What would Venetia do if Oliver were untrustworthy as well?
As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she was a bit ashamed of herself. That need for honesty made her admit—even if she didn't want to—that she was certain that Oliver would never, ever hurt her. What was she so afraid of then? Loving someone who loved her?
Maybe. Hadn’t her mother lost herself in her obsession for Venetia’s father? She was terrified of that, horrified by the idea of it. And as she thought about her life—she knew that what happened to her mother and later to Venetia had brought her to Kendawyn. To this life that she loved. She loved growing things. She loved magecraft, she loved dresses and Antigone and escapes to visit Alice. Venetia loved shopping in Amour and being accountable only to her Uncle who adored her.
Was what Oliver was offering better than what she had right now? It was not a question that Venetia could answer. Not then.
Maybe not ever.
Chapter Twelve
“Have you forgiven me yet?” Alice’s voice interrupted Venetia’s careful attitude of not thinking. But she didn’t open her eyes as Alice made her way into the sitting room where Antigone and Venetia were lounging. “And what are you doing there, like that? Are you ill?”
Persuaded to Love: A Kendawyn Paranormal Regency Page 9