Penelope nodded without facing him, and again his eyes filled with compassion and love. For a moment he seemed to hesitate, unwilling to leave his wife alone, before calling out to the driver. With a jerk the carriage started to roll, back toward Chester Park. Charmaine leaned closer to the window and looked at her brother-in-law where he stood on the snowy road watching them leave, looking more determined than ever.
As he turned and walked back toward the vicarage, she knew exactly where he was going. Lord Richard Darling was about to take matters into his own two hands.
She almost felt sorry for the poor clergyman, who was about to have a visitor he had never asked for. But only almost. The man had made it quite clear to them that he was on their stepfather’s side, refusing to tell them where he’d laid their mother to rest.
“I hope it will hurt.”
Penelope obviously had come to the same conclusion about her husband’s sudden hurry to do some errands. Silently they rocked through the familiar grounds, watching their old childhood home slowly come closer. It was such a lovely house, Harveyfield, and had belonged to the Nester family for hundreds of years.
Despite her stepfather and the limited freedom he had allowed her, she had spent nineteen peaceful years in that house. It pained her to think of not being able to enter through the low garden gate, walk up to the creaky old front door, and enter the worn but comfortable home. Never again would she be able to walk into her mother’s warm embrace, feel her love make everything worthwhile.
As they came closer to the house, she got a clear view toward the stables in the back and noticed Lord Nester’s carriage was gone. Before she had a chance to change her mind, she called out to the driver to stop.
“Why are we stopping here? I never want to see that man again for the rest of my life.” Penelope's eyes were red and puffy as she pulled her coat tighter around her shivering body.
“Because I want my things. But more importantly—I want something to remember Mother by, something that was hers and hers alone. Something I one day can give to my daughter.”
“What about Father? Do you really want to face him? Isn’t it enough that Rake soon will, or at least his fist will?”
“He’s not here. The carriage is gone.”
Penelope stopped tugging her coat and stared silently at Charmaine with her dazed eyes. Not until the carriage halted at the front of Harveyfield did she move. But as soon as the driver opened the small door she flew up from her seat. “I’m going with you. I can’t stand the thought of that man selling Mother’s few possessions!”
Together they almost ran to the front door, and, ignoring the outraged gasps from the footman, they burst into the house.
“You are trespassing,” the footman yelled as they pushed him aside, heading for the stairs and their old bedrooms. “His Lordship told me to have you two arrested if you ever dared to show yourselves in this house again, and if you don’t get out of here immediately, I will.”
But the poor footman never had a chance to fulfill his master’s request, as the cook came up behind him and hit him quite hard on the head with a pan. He fell to the floor like a pile of clothes, and the cook couldn’t hide a satisfied grin.
“Never liked him, you know.” She beamed as she waved her hand toward the stairs. “You two hurry up and gather your things. I’ll watch him and make sure he don’t interfere again.”
“Thank you,” Penelope breathed, tears in her eyes.
“Go on,” the cook prompted gruffly as she sat down on the bottom step of the stair, her pan ready to land on the footman’s head again if he dared to wake up.
As Charmaine stepped into her old room, a wave of childhood memories washed over her. How she had loved this bright room with its large windows!
It wasn’t as grand and luxurious as the bedrooms at Chester Park, but to her it had been enormous. She had felt like a princess, sleeping in the old four-poster bed which took up almost half the space of the room. A small desk sat beneath one of the windows, and a comfortable chair was placed next to it, a chair in which her mother had spent most of her time when in Charmaine’s room.
A small door led into a dressing room that was just as large as her bedroom, filled to its brim with clothes and knick-knacks. She grabbed one of the bags she had used when travelling and filled it with her favorite clothes, shoes, and accessories.
When it was full, she grabbed another one, sentimentally packing her old doll and other toys she had played with as a child and which she now wanted to hand over to her own children. She removed the loose panel in the wardrobe behind which she had hidden her journals and all her personal correspondence.
She hesitated when she reached Lord Dane’s letters, remembering how much they had meant to her once. Before she could change her mind, she put the letters into the bag, too sentimental to throw them away just yet.
“Are you finished?” Penelope said from the doorway, and Charmaine shook her head.
“No, not yet. I want to make sure I don’t leave anything important behind for Father to find. Are you finished?”
"I am. I think I will continue in Mother’s bedroom, though, if that’s all right with you?”
Amazed at how relieved she felt about not having to go through her beloved mother’s things, Charmaine nodded in response, and with a small, tight smile Penelope left. Charmaine closed her eyes as the pain over her mother’s death grew again inside her heart.
Why hadn’t she taken her mother with her? Why hadn’t she forced the Darlings to have Lady Nester brought to Chester Park before her father’s return from London?
The answer was as simple as it was embarrassing—she had been too distraught over her own entrapment of Sin to think twice about the one she had left behind.
But her feelings about her own shortcomings didn’t matter. She knew her mother would have asked her to do the same thing all over again. Lady Nester had spent the last years of her life desperately trying to keep Charmaine safe from her stepfather, and in her heart she knew her mother had died happy knowing her daughters were safe.
But still... Charmaine couldn’t help but feel she had let her mother down by leaving her to face the wrath of their stepfather alone. Lady Nester had been too sick to ever get well again, but at least she would have been able to spend her last days with her daughters, and they would have been able to say goodbye to her.
Able to tell her how much they loved her.
With a sigh, she grabbed the two bags containing the first nineteen years of her life and carried them out into her bedroom. She put the bags on the bed and went to the desk, where she efficiently collected the things she wanted to take with her.
She put the pile of unread mail aside, knowing there wouldn't be anything worthwhile for her to read. Since meeting Lord Dane and hearing about all the letters he had sent her, she knew her father would have held on to anything of any importance.
How would she ever be able to explain to Sin how it had been for her to live under the same roof with a man as obsessed as her father was? Even if she could make Sin believe her, she knew he would never understand. Even though he was brought up by free-thinking parents, Sin was quite traditional and very much square in his opinions.
Not even Penelope, who had grown up under the same roof, would understand. She had never seen that side of their stepfather. As much as he adored Charmaine, he had neglected the younger sister, like two sides of a coin.
Charmaine was too caught in her thoughts to notice the man who quietly joined her in the room. Not until she heard the telling sound of the door closing did she look up and met the hungry eyes of her stepfather.
”Scream and you will regret it.” Lord Nester's smile was soft, but the threat was visible in his pale eyes.
Charmaine forced herself to breathe calmly, digging her nails deep into her palms to keep her head clear, as she had done so many times before. Becoming hysterical wouldn’t help her now. She knew that by experience. If she remained calm, she might be able to sta
ll him. Sooner or later Penelope would come back, and hopefully her presence would stop whatever plans the man had spun.
“I’ve missed you so much,” Lord Nester whispered as he came toward her, putting his hand against her cheek. “I could hardly believe my luck when I came home and the footman told me you were here. Finally back where you belong.”
She wanted to tear herself away from him, to scream and scratch his eyes out, but instead she held still, as she always had done before. Having been caught in this situation too many times before had taught her not to deny him. It would only make it worse. Better let him have his way and offer him as little back as she possibly could.
“Why did you leave me?”
When she didn’t answer his whining question, he lost the sweetness and his true, ugly soul became visible: the person beneath the surface whom only she and her mother had fully met, and whom Penelope had sensed that day when he gave her away to Lord Bolton.
“I worshipped you. I adored you. I gave you everything. And how did you repay me?” He sneered as he removed his hand from her cheek and grabbed her arm instead, dragging her closer until his lips was alarmingly close to hers. “By letting that...that bastard soil you, destroy your lovely innocence and your virginity. It was mine to take, not his. How could you let him do this to me? To us?”
“He’s my husband.”
“By your choice.”
His voice had risen to a high pitch, and she knew he was about to lose stability, lose his sanity, and so she played along just so she could get away from him, away from his delirious fantasies.
“It wasn’t by my choice.”
To her relief, he calmed down, moving slightly backwards, a sad smile softening his face. “I know. I heard how he made sure you had to marry him. I thought I’d taught you better than to fall for such a thing. You are too beautiful. Men want you.”
“I know.”
“I want you.”
“I know.”
A wave of nausea hit her as his lips came closer to hers again, eagerly wanting to do what they had longed to do these last couple of years: kiss her. She tried to look indifferent, tried to hold on to her serenity, but something must have shown, as he suddenly gasped and drew back with flaring nostrils.
“What is this?” he hissed, looking as though he was on the verge of crying. “W-why are you looking at me like that? Like you are...”
He took a deep, shaky breath as he took another step back from her, and she had to use all her mental strength to not take a deep breath of relief.
“You look like you detest me!”
“I don’t detest you.”
Her answer came fast and automatically, and any other day it would have satisfied him. But not this time. No, for the first time ever, he looked at her with doubt, and that scared her immensely.
What if he had changed? How would she then know how to handle him? How would she ever be able to read him correctly? If she couldn't foresee his every move, she could be in real danger, if she didn't know how he would react.
“I don’t detest you.”
The lie flew as easily as ever over her lips, but this time she didn’t get the usual response of utter relief as she always had before when denying darker feelings for him. Instead, he walked over to the bed and grabbed one of the posts as if he were unable to stand upright without its help.
Charmaine didn’t know what to do.
She looked at the closed door, calculating whether or not she had a chance of escaping the room without being caught before she opened it.
Probably. But what would happen if she did? Would he follow her? Would he hurt her?
More importantly, would he hurt Penelope?
The memory of how easily he had given her sister to Lord Bolton gave her the answer without a doubt: Yes, without remorse or second thoughts.
“Do you love me?”
His strange behavior and unusual intuition confused her, and she hesitated too long over what to reply. With a growl of pain he let go of the post and stalked back to her, pushing her hard on the chest.
Caught by surprise, she stumbled backwards, bumping into the wall behind her. Using her passiveness, he grabbed her wrists, pressing them against the wall over her head. Caught between him and the wall, Charmaine could hardly breathe, and she couldn't stop a whimper of pain as he harshly twisted her arms in a show of power.
“Tell me you love me.”
His voice was clipped. He left no room for playing games. She had no choice but to try to soothe him and make him release her.
“I love you.”
He snorted angrily. “You lying whore.”
“Please...”
His cold laughter made her shiver with fear, and he pressed his heavy body closer to hers, until she could feel his arousal against her stomach.
“Can you feel how much I want you?”
He snickered as she turned her head away from him, too embarrassed and disgusted to answer.
”It pains me to know you have spread your legs for that husband of yours, that you have let him soil your perfect, pristine beauty. But I guess I’ll learn to live with it once you’re mine again. So maybe I lost your innocence to him, but he will lose the rest of you to me.”
She frowned unwillingly, deeply disturbed by his strange conclusion. Even if Sin had wanted to get rid of her he wouldn’t be able to. She was his deflowered bride and could already be carrying the future heir to the Berkeley dukedom.
“You are mistaken,” she whispered, trying to reach through his madness. “Lord Chilton will never let me go.”
His apparent satisfaction over catching her attention so easily was a bit upsetting, but not as much as the subject of his choice.
“Of course he won’t. Sinclair Darling is not known for being daft, and only a daft man would give you up. Someone like Lord Dane.”
“I-I don’t un-understand,” she stuttered, too dizzy to be able to think straight.
Lord Nester loosened his painful grip on her arms, and she let them down with a relieved sigh as the tearing pain ended. Instead he put his hands against her cheeks, as he had done so many times before, smiling triumphantly.
“A dead man has no say about what happens to his widow, and if she wants to move back to the security of her loving parent, I’m sure his family won't stop her.”
Oh, God.
Fear like none she’d ever felt before ripped through her body as she looked into his insane eyes, reading the truth in them: Her stepfather was going to kill her husband.
“Please, don’t.”
Lord Nester sneered, disgusted. “What is this? Why are you so upset that he will die? You should be rejoicing that I am handing you this gift of freedom and the opportunity to finally become mine.” He gave a sudden outraged gasp. “A-are you in love with him?”
Good God!
“No!” She took a deep breath. “No. There are no feelings between the two of us. The marriage was forced.”
His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Now I think you are lying to me, because I’m quite aware of how madly in love with you Sinclair Darling is. Year after year he has been standing around, staring at you with those puppy eyes. If I hadn’t known for sure that you neither cared nor noticed his feelings, I would have had to ask him to cease the endless gawking. It was starting to get a bit irritating.”
Her heart started to beat faster as she listened to her stepfather's ranting. Could it be true? Could Sin be in love with her? The joy which filled her heart almost made her smile, but then reality hit, and she shook her head mentally.
No, this was her stepfather speaking, her very insane stepfather, who thought it would be all right with everyone that he married his stepdaughter.
But then again...
He had always seemed to have a sixth sense about other men’s feelings toward her. He had more than once told her to expect proposals from certain men, and he had always been right. The only thing he ever had been wrong about had been her feelings for him. But the
n again, he had always been blind when it came to her, which his sick infatuation for her was evidence of. “So do you?” Her stepfather interrupted her thoughts by harshly lifting her up from the floor and tossing her on the bed.
She blinked and sat up, confused. “Do I what?”
“Love him.”
“I-I...”
He grabbed a vase and threw it into the fireplace with so much force it broke into hundreds of small pieces all over the floor. “You love him!”
She shook her head frantically, desperately trying to find the right words to use to persuade him into believing her indifference toward her husband.
But she was too late.
With a guttural cry, he slapped her hard across the mouth, and she felt queasy at the taste of blood as she fell back onto the bed.
“I would recommend you cherish your marriage as much as possible from now on,” Lord Nester hissed, ”because I am going to kill that husband of yours as soon as I have a chance.”
He gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him. “And then it’s just you and me.”
Without forewarning, he bent and pressed his lips hard against hers. A wave of nausea trapped her as he tried to press his tongue through her pursed lips. Just as he succeeded in forcing her mouth open, she lost the inner struggle as well, and with a whimper she threw up all over him. He bolted back, cursing loudly as he tried to brush the vomit from his clothes and his face with his bare hands.
“When you are mine, I am going to make you pay for this,” he snarled as he grabbed a blanket and used it to clean the worst of the mess. “I promise you, I will make you pay for every time you have denied me my right to your body and every time you have turned your delicious mouth away from mine.”
When he had cleaned himself as much as possible, he threw the dirty blanket at her, letting her know just how little she now meant to him, before he opened the door and looked out into the hallway.
“Until next time.” His smile toward her was pure evil, and she shivered in response to the barely hidden threat. With one last lingering look upon her, he disappeared out through the door, and not until she heard his footsteps fade away down the stairs did she dare to breathe again.
The Beauty of You Page 14