Prologue
DERBYSHIRE, ENGLAND
1842
TheEarlwas home.
Gabriel Sinclair couldn’t bring himself to call theEarl“Father.” He couldn’t even think of him as a father figure. TheEarl’spresence meant one thing: Gabriel should stay out of the way. If he failed at that, if he called attention to himself, the consequences would be swift and painful.
Donning his riding jacket, Gabriel slipped into the servants’ corridors. He dared not use the house hallways and risk running into theEarl.
Gabriel could not remember when he first realized theEarlhated him, but it was one of his earliest memories. Surely a four-year-old shouldn’t know about hate. And yet it was impossible to look into theEarl’sdark, soulless eyes and not instinctively recognize the emotion.
The beatings, cruel words, and contemptuous looks over the next eight years had only cemented the belief in his mind. His father, the man who was supposed to love him, despised him.
As a young child, he couldn’t understand why. His mother was no help. She just cried and told him to stay out of theEarl’ssight. Now that he was older, he was just glad theEarldidn’t come home often.
Gabriel flitted through dimly lit servants’ corridors, narrowly avoiding a maid, her arms full of linens, and then swerving around a footman carrying a tray. They didn’t bat an eye atfinding the son of the master of the house in the service corridors. That in itself was telling of how often he had used them.
As he descended the old, worn stairs, he wondered how long theEarlplanned to stay this time. For how long would Gabriel have to scurry about? Maybe he could go stay at the vicar’s house? His friend Jamie, the vicar’s son, had told him he could stay over whenever he needed.
But the vicarage wasn’t a large house. With Jamie’s three brothers and four sisters, the house was bursting at the seams. He didn’t mind much. He would sleep on a pallet on the floor if it meant being out of theEarl’sreach, but he knew the vicar and his family would never consent to having the lord’s son sleep on the floor. They would give him a bed, even if it meant displacing one of their sons. Gabriel didn’t want to impose.
Finally, at ground level, he slipped out of the house through a side door. His steps quickened as he approached the stables, anticipation for the ride lending them a spring, making him careless. He marched through the gardens, turned around a tall hedge, and almost collided with an ominous, large figure.
So much for avoiding theEarl.
TheEarl’sirate gaze swept over him before his hand shot out and grabbed him by his scruff.
“You disgraceful whelp, watch where you are going.”
Gabriel didn’t reply. He had learned his response wasn’t necessary and would only increase theEarl’sanger and prolong the unpleasantness.
“Where were you going, skulking around like a thief? Answer me, boy.” The violent shake that accompanied his last words rattled Gabriel’s teeth.
“I was going for a ride, sir.”
“For a ride, uh? Were you the one who tampered with my riding crops?”
He was. Not that he would ever admit to it, but his confession wasn’t necessary. TheEarldidn’t limit his cruelty to his son. He also liked to punish his mounts. His riding crops had little pieces of metal on their ends. And he used pointed spurs mercilessly. The harm inflicted on the horses pained Gabriel as much as the abuse TheEarlrained upon him.
“I know it was you. You are weak. Soft. Think you can interfere with how I handle my horseflesh, do you? Well, I’ll show you a lesson you won’t forget. I got a new riding crop,” theEarlsaid, shoving said riding crop under Gabriel’s chin, lifting his face. “Want to try it first? Maybe that will teach you not to get between me and my horses.”
He grabbed Gabriel by the arm, turned, and dragged him along. Gabriel tried to resist theEarl. He fought him. But theEarlwas a big, muscular brute. Gabriel’s own gangly arms hardly posed a challenge. He didn’t scream. What good would it do? No one on the estate would dare interfere, and it would just magnify this indignity.
He was powerless as theEarldragged him into an empty stall and tied him to one of the posts with a rope. When the man dragged a menacing dagger from a sheath in his boot, Gabriel closed his eyes with a helpless gulp. Maybe he should scream, after all. He could take a beating, but preserving what was left of his dignity was not worth his life. Maybe if there were witnesses, theEarlwould not kill...
He yelled for all he was worth. “Help! Somebody, help! Please! Over here, the last stall.”
A hard blow to the side of his head made his vision swim, interrupting his screams.
“Shut up, you hellish son of a whore. You are nothing but a coward.”
“D-don’t kill me. I will leave your house, and you’ll never see me again. I promise.”
“I’m not going to kill you, you dumb prick. I’m just going to teach you a lesson.”
The glint of a knife flashed at the edge of his vision, followed by the rending of material when theEarlused it to cut his shirt and waistcoat open, exposing his back. The cool morning air caressed his flesh a moment before fire descended on his skin as theEarlused his riding crop on his bare back.
