“And you did?” Gwen asked, a small note of awe threading through her fear.
“For a little while,” Cordelia admitted. “Then he shouted. I shouted. It was dreadful. He threw a glass. It shattered against the hearth. I told him to go if he could not bear the sight of us. So he went. He has not come back.”
Gwen’s heart twisted.
Cordelia’s lips trembled as she added quickly, “I am not blaming you, my love. I would do it again. I will always defend you without putting you in danger. The last thing I want is for either of you to be harmed because of me.”
Gwen’s eyes stung. “You have never said anything like this.”
“I should have,” Cordelia whispered. “I have been too frightened. But I love you. I know I have not chosen well. I know you have suffered for it. I will not pretend otherwise today. I know he loves us. Deep down.”
Gwen swallowed hard. “Ilove you too, Mama.”
Cordelia drew her into an embrace, holding her tightly. For a moment, Gwen allowed herself to sink into it, to feel something like safety, however fleeting.
Then heavy footsteps sounded in the corridor.
Cordelia flinched before she pulled back, wiping her cheeks quickly. Gwen turned.
Howard staggered in without knocking, the smell of brandy and perfume preceding him by a pace. His cravat was askew, his hair mussed, his eyes bloodshot and mean.
“Well,” he slurred, “here are my two ungrateful burdens, conspiring in daylight.”
Cordelia’s entire posture changed. Her shoulders hunched, her hands anxiously smoothed her gown, and her voice turned thin and placating. “Howard, you are home. I was so worried. Are you unwell? Shall I fetch coffee? Shall I send word to the kitchen?”
“Do not fuss,” he snapped. “You made your opinion of my company clear last night.”
She flinched. “I spoke in anger. I did not mean?—”
“You rarely mean what you say,” he cut in. His gaze slid to Gwen, hard and contemptuous. “I hear you now inspire your mother to your level of disobedience.”
Gwen schooled her features into a polite mask. “Good morning, My Lord.”
“Do not pretend. I know you for what you are,” Howard sneered.
Cordelia stepped in hastily. “Howard, please. This is not necessary. Let us speak later, when you have rested.”
He looked at her, and with bitter familiarity, Gwen saw her mother fold in on herself, the courage of moments ago retreating beneath a desperate desire to soothe him.
“I will go,” Gwen said quietly. “You do not need me here.”
“No,” Howard agreed. “We never did.”
The words hit her like small stones.
Gwen bobbed the briefest curtsy, placed a brief kiss on her mother’s cheek, and left the room before either of them could see how much it cost her to walk away.
As she closed the door, she heard her mother’s voice change again. Soft. Appeasing. Almost girlish in her efforts to charm Howard.
Gwen walked back to her room, her resolve strengthening.
I am leaving. And soon.
CHAPTER 19
The next two days passed like walking on cracked glass.
Gwen kept out of Howard’s way. She rose early, took breakfast in her room, read until her eyes ached, walked briefly in the garden when she knew he had gone to his club, and returned before he could.
