by Wolf, Bree
Torn between the desperate desire to be thought well of, to be liked by this woman and her own instincts, Adelaide could not so easily abandon the caution that had guided her all her life. Clara’s words touched her, and yet, she wondered if her husband’s mother knew her son as well as she thought she did or if she simply chose to ignore the more aggressive side of his character. After all, Adelaide reminded herself, it was not all in her head. She had seen and heard evidence that clearly spoke to a less than collected side of his. What was true?
Could anyone truly say that with certainty?
“Excuse me,” a young footman said, clearing his throat.
Blinking, Adelaide tensed as she had not even heard his approach. Had she not taught herself to always be aware of her surroundings?
“I apologise,” he said to Adelaide’s mother-in-law before his gaze turned to her. “My lady, you have a visitor.”
Adelaide’s blood froze in her veins. What were the odds of her family calling on her today? What if…? “Who is it?” she asked in a voice that would have been befitting for someone on their deathbed.
“Lord Radcliff, my lady.”
Adelaide felt the deep desire to faint right then and there on the spot. Still, all that would accomplish was to postpone the conversation with her father for when it came to money, he could not be persuaded to reconsider. Best to get it over with as soon as possible. Perhaps he would accept her allowance. Perhaps it would be enough. It had to be as she did not have more to give. But what if he refused? What if he insisted?
“Are you all right, my dear?” Clara asked, her eyes watchful as they studied Adelaide’s face. “Do you want me to accompany you?”
For a moment, Adelaide hesitated, wondering if her mother-in-law could tell how uncomfortable she felt at the thought of meeting her father. “No, that is not necessary. Thank you.” Hoping the smile on her face was convincing enough, Adelaide took her leave and followed the footman back into the house to the drawing room.
Each step felt more reluctant than the one before, and Adelaide took a few deep breaths, hoping to slow the rapid beating of her heart. Her hands balled into fists as she stepped across the threshold and the doors were closed behind her.
“Do you have the money?” her father asked without bothering to offer a greeting. His gaze fixed her with impatience, and when she failed to answer right away, two large strides carried him closer. “Speak!” he snapped. “Or have you lost your tongue?”
Adelaide swallowed, carefully stepping around her father as she retreated deeper into the room…farther away from the door. Still, she could not bear to have him stand so close to her. “I can give you this,” she said, stepping up to the mantle where she had hid a small purse in an old vase. Turning around, she held it out to him. “It is all I have.”
Her father’s eyes narrowed as he approached and then snatched the small pouch from her hands. “What is this?” he demanded, loosening the string and peering inside. “You must be jesting!” he exclaimed, his blood-shot eyes glaring at her once more. “This is nothing! This is barely enough for one evening!”
Wringing her hands, Adelaide felt her skin crawl as she found herself the object of her father’s wrath. All her life, she had done her utmost in order to prevent this from happening, and now, when she was supposed to be safe, the moment had finally come. Was that not why she had married? Why her family had urged her to marry? To keep her safe from her father’s influence? It would seem safe was not a place she would ever find.
“All I have is my allowance,” she stammered, trying to think of a way to dissuade her father from pursuing this…but her mind failed her as fear rose, claiming her wits and stealing her thoughts.
“Your allowance?” her father thundered. “Did I not tell you to ask your husband for more?”
Swallowing, Adelaide nodded.
“And did you?”
Gritting her teeth, she shook her head.
In a flash, her father stood before her, his large hands wrapping around her upper arms, their grip painful as he shoved his face into hers. “Why not?” he growled, anger darkening his face.
Feeling her teeth chatter with fear, Adelaide bowed her head, unable to hold her father’s gaze. “I c-could not,” she stammered. “He w-would have wanted to know w-what it’s for.”
“Then lie!” her father snarled as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Unable to speak, Adelaide all but hung in her father’s arms, her body aching with the strain of keeping herself upright when all she wanted to do was sink onto the floor and bury her head in her hands.
“Answer me!” her father growled, shaking her as though she were nothing but a doll.
Adelaide’s teeth clucked together painfully, and she began to see bright spots before her eyes.
It was in that moment when Adelaide was ready to give up and surrender everything she was, everything she had clung to that the door burst open with a loud bang that reverberated through the entire room.
In stormed her husband, his face dark red and his gaze narrowed into slits as his eyes slid over her for the barest of moments before he turned them onto her father.
Adelaide gasped at the sight of him, feeling the strength of his presence in every fibre of her body. Never had she seen him like this before, and fresh terror seized her heart. What would he do?
Like a predator, her husband stalked into the room, his gaze unwavering as he stared at her father. “I’d ask you to kindly remove your hands from my wife, my lord.”
Despite his words, the threat was unmistakable, and Adelaide gasped anew when she saw the effect of it in the way her father took a step back, his hands finally releasing their hold on her.
What did it mean when someone who had always intimidated others suddenly showed fear himself?
Adelaide wished she did not have to find out.
Chapter Seventeen – A Husband’s Word
Standing by the window in his study, Matthew looked out at the far corner of the garden visible from his position. Although he knew he ought to see to the papers on his desk, his thoughts continued to stray from the task at hand. All he could think of was his wife…and his mother’s advice to him.
But how? How could he teach her to stand tall?
Matthew hung his head. He did not even know how to approach her without sending fear into her heart. Whenever he drew near, she would shrink away and had done her utmost to avoid him ever since their wedding day. It was hopeless.
Without warning, the door was suddenly flung open and his mother rushed in. She was still wearing her coat and gloves, and her cheeks were flushed and her eyes wide. “Matthew!”
“Mother, what’s wrong?” Grasping her hands, Matthew looked down at her, feeling his chest tighten with the worry he read on her face. “What happened?”
“Lord Radcliff is here!”
“What?” Fear gripped Matthew’s heart. “Where?”
“In the drawing room, speaking to your wife.” Momentarily, Matthew froze. “You should have seen the look in her eyes when he was announced,” his mother rushed to explain, her face tense with anxiety. “She looked all but terrified, and yet, she insisted to meet him alone.”
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Matthew stepped around his mother and rushed toward the door.
“Something is very wrong,” his mother continued when he stepped across the threshold and out into the corridor. “You need to protect her.”
As he rushed down the hallway toward the front of the house, Matthew felt his heart beating wildly in his chest. Never in his life had he known fear like this. Not even when his father had turned on him that fateful morning.
Approaching, he could hear the earl’s angry snarl even through the closed doors, a threat hanging in the air even though the barrier between them muffled his words. Still, the message was loud and clear, and Matthew felt a growl rise in his throat at the knowledge that it was directed at none other than his wife.
His sweet
, innocent, delicate wife.
Matthew thought he was prepared for anything, and yet, when he threw open the doors, the air caught in his throat.
The earl stood menacingly above her, holding her limp body in his claw-like hands as though he wished to devour her. With her head bowed in defeat, Adelaide all but hung from his hands as they gripped her around the arms, no doubt leaving marks that could be seen for days.
Anger surged through Matthew, and he had to fight to remain in control or he would have acted as a man of low character. Instead, he stalked toward the other man, seeing the slight widening of his eyes and knew that his presence alone took the wind out of the earl’s sails. As much as the man liked to intimidate his family, he was not immune to fear himself. “I’d ask you to kindly remove your hands from my wife, my lord.”
Dimly, Matthew heard his wife gasp, but his attention was focused on her father as he swallowed and then finally loosened his grip on her arms. Stepping back, he met Matthew’s stare, his own suddenly lacking strength if not determination. His eyes were blood-shot and his face red. He was clearly angry, but even more so, he seemed desperate.
“What are you doing here?” Matthew demanded, stepping forward and in-between his wife and her father.
The earl swallowed, but then raised his chin. “That is none of your concern. I came to speak to my daughter. Alone.”
Matthew scoffed, “What I saw did not look like a polite conversation,” he snarled, his gaze daring the man to show his true colours.
Still, the earl remained silent, clamping his lips together in annoyance, refusing to see reason.
At this clear show of defiance, Matthew took a threatening step closer to the man he had come to loathe as much as his own father. “You’re not welcome here,” he hissed. “If you refuse to treat your daughter with the respect she deserves, then I must ask you to leave this house immediately.”
Though his confidence was clearly shaken, the earl glared back at Matthew. “She is my daughter, and I will speak to her any way I see fit.”
“You will not!” Matthew threw back, squaring his shoulders as he fought to keep his fists at his sides. “She is now my wife, and I will not allow you to threaten her.”
Throwing back his head, the earl laughed. “I would never threaten my own daughter. Clearly, you misunderstood.”
Frowning, Matthew glanced from the earl to his wife, wondering what the man was hiding. Why had he come here today? What did he want? No matter what he said to the contrary, Matthew was certain that he wanted something. From his daughter. From him. What could it be? Money? It was the most logical answer, and yet, how could the man threaten his daughter when he could no longer decide her fate. What was he missing? Matthew frowned, wondering if there was something he did not know. Something his wife kept from him.
“I doubt that,” Matthew finally said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “What do you want, Radcliff? I’ll never believe you came here to see your daughter. What are you hiding?”
At his words, the earl’s gaze drifted to his daughter and a slow smile−a clear threat−came to his face. And yet, he remained silent…as did his daughter.
Annoyed with the man’s refusal to answer him, Matthew asked, “Do you not think that there will be marks on your daughter’s arms after the way you grabbed her? Is it common practice for you to harm your own blood?” Holding the earl’s gaze, Matthew took a step toward him. “You better believe that if I see you harming my wife ever again, I will call you out. Have I made myself clear?”
The man’s face paled visibly as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. Then he glanced at his daughter and quickly took his leave.
As his footsteps receded, their echo growing smaller, Matthew turned to look at his wife. Her hands were trembling, and her eyes were as round as plates as she stared at him, fear lingering on her face as though it belonged there.
Knowing that there would never be a perfect time, Matthew inhaled a deep breath, trying to calm himself as best as he could, and braced himself for the greatest challenge he had ever been faced with: speaking to his wife.
He could only hope he would find the right words.
***
Staring at her husband, Adelaide did not know what to make of him. Although anger was still radiating off him, only moments after he had come through the door, she could have hugged him. The sudden desire to do so had caught her off guard, and she was still reeling from the shock of it. Never had anyone come to her defence. Not like this. But why had he? Simply because she was his? Because he considered it an insult to him that another would threaten his wife and by extension him?
Or…?
Utter curiosity rooted her to the spot where she would have otherwise retreated. Her eyes flitted over his face as he clearly fought to calm his anger. She could see him watching her, gauging her reaction. He stood back and did not approach, giving her space, and Adelaide wondered how he knew. How did he know so well what frightened her? And why would he care whether or not she feared him? Her father certainly never had been bothered by it. Instead, he seemed to consider it a great achievement on his part.
“Are you all right?” her husband finally asked, his gaze dropping from hers and touching the spots on her arms where her father had held her with his iron grip.
Glancing down, Adelaide felt learnt behaviour take over. “It is nothing,” she said, shaking her head in dismissal, the hint of a smile on her face.
Her husband, however, did not seem reassured at her words. Instead, his eyes narrowed, and she could see doubt come to his face. She could see that he did not believe her, but for once the knowledge did not frighten her, but merely made her wonder why.
Absentmindedly, she rubbed a hand over her left arm, flinching as she touched a spot that sent a jolt of pain through her body. Instantly, she tensed, and her gaze returned to meet her husband’s.
“It is not nothing,” he said, his gaze insistent as it held hers, as he took a step toward her. “Your father had no right to treat you as he did.” Again, he stepped closer, and Adelaide inhaled a slow breath, fighting the urge to retreat…not out of fear, but out of habit. “No one has the right to lay a hand on you. Not your father. Not me. Not anyone.”
The green in his eyes darkened, warmed, and Adelaide once again found herself staring at the man she did not understand, the man she could not make sense of. Still, his words touched her as did the sincerity she heard in his voice.
But old instincts died hard.
A feigned smile returned to her face as she shook her head yet again, seeking to dismiss his concern. “My father would never hurt me,” she said, her voice flat and without conviction. “This was an accident. He lost his temper and−”
“It was not,” her husband interrupted, his eyes grew harder as he approached. “You know it was no accident, no exception.” He swallowed, and she could see the hints of a battle waging within. “I…I know the signs of a woman mistreated.” Gritting his teeth, he met her gaze openly, allowing her to see the turmoil that claimed his heart. “My…father used to treat my mother the same way, and for a long time, I believed that that was simply the way between husband and wife. I was a child then. Now, I know better.”
Adelaide felt her skin crawl as his words washed over her. Had he grown up in a household similar to her own? Had he escaped his father’s anger merely because he was a man? Had that saved him?
One look into his eyes told Adelaide that it had not been so for what she saw there spoke of a man haunted. He still carried his childhood with him as she carried her own. The realisation that there was something to connect them, something they shared, something that bound them together was all the more startling to Adelaide as she would have never expected a man to feel as she did.
He took another step toward her, and again, she flinched…unable not to. Still, there was nothing threatening about him now. In truth, she had never seen a man look so vulnerable, and she wondered why he would allow her to see him thus. Did it
not speak of great trust? But why would he trust her? How could he? They hardly even knew each other.
When he saw her tense, her husband immediately halted his step. “I am not my father,” he said, his voice loud and clear as though he was not trying to convince her but himself. “Nor am I yours.” He swallowed. “I do not want you to fear me. What I want is your respect. I want you to respect me as much as I respect you.”
For what felt like the thousandth time that day, Adelaide stared at her husband. Never had anyone surprised her as greatly as he had in a single day. Her heart urged her to believe him, told her that his words sounded genuine. And yet, fear urged her to be on her guard, reminding her what her past had taught her.
Men could not be trusted.
“May I ask,” he began, his gaze watchful as he looked at her, “is there anything about me that makes you fearful? Is there something I need to be careful about? Something I might not even be aware of? Please, help me understand.”
At a loss, Adelaide shook her head, afraid to anger him if she indeed were to answer honestly.
Her husband inhaled a deep breath as though his patience was wearing thin, and yet, he did not lash out at her. He continued to hold himself back, his narrowed gaze telling her that he had seen her renewed apprehension. His mouth opened to speak, but then he hesitated. Gritting his teeth, he closed his eyes, and she could see his hands curling into fists.
Still, it was not anger she saw when he looked at her once more. It was rather a sense of frustration, even fear, and when he finally spoke, Adelaide felt herself respond to the honesty she heard in his words. “I’m afraid I will become a man like my father,” he admitted, not dropping his gaze although he clearly wished to. “He was a cold man, uncaring and dismissive of others. He did what he wanted, and he never saw a reason to change. He was strong, and we were weak, so why would he?” He took another step until he stood barely an arm’s length in front of her, his gaze almost pleading as he looked at her. “I would ask for your help. Help me see the signs so that I may avoid a fate like my father’s. Will you do that?”