Instinctively, as she stood straight, she kicked out at him. Her foot made contact with his, forcing him to release her. She stumbled away, breathing deeply around the corset.
“You have spirit tonight, don’t you?” he asked rhetorically as he walked toward her. “You do not usually fight back,” he whispered, making a grab for her.
“No,” she dived away, only just escaping his hold. “I’ll go change now, Graham. I promise, I will only be a few minutes. I give you my word.” She ran up the stairs as fast as she could, gathering the skirt of the gown and holding it around her ankles as she ran.
Behind her on the stairs, she could hear Graham following her, taking the steps two or maybe even three at a time. When she reached the top of the stairs, she didn’t look back to him. She just concentrated on running, all the way to her chamber.
As she burst through the door, she found her maid inside, Louisa, tidying up. The young fair-haired woman’s head snapped toward her, eyes wide with fear, suggesting she could hear Graham’s footsteps running down the corridor too.
“Louisa, quick, find me another gown,” Phoebe ran inside. “Anything with a high neckline and long sleeves. Ah!” She couldn’t help yelping as the door burst open. Phoebe backed away from the door as Louisa ran to the cupboard nearby, pulling out a gown.
Graham hurried toward Phoebe, backing her up against the chest of drawers nearby. She collided with it, barely aware how close it was in her desperation to be away from her husband.
“I’m changing now,” she said quickly. “I’ll be ready in just a few minutes. Please, Graham.”
It didn’t matter how many times she pleaded with him. Graham marched toward her and grabbed hold of her skirt. With one hard tug, he pulled at the material, ripping it.
“Graham!” she cried at him, but it did little use. He started to grab different parts of the dress, ripping it at a piece at a time in a frenzy. “Please, stop.”
Phoebe could barely see over Graham’s flailing arms, but she could just make out Louisa on the far side of the room with a new dress in her hands. The poor maid’s lip was shaking, and she had turned pale, watching what was happening.
“Please, my lord, stop,” Louisa started to walk across the room.
“Be quiet!” Graham snapped over his shoulder.
“Louisa, get back,” Phoebe begged her maid to abide by her wishes. It was always a fear that her husband would turn his anger on Louisa instead of her. The thought was too horrific. Just because she suffered at Graham’s hands didn’t mean that anyone else should. “Graham, please.”
Her begging was left unanswered. He just continued to rip her dress until her corset was exposed and the sleeves were torn off her body. She pushed against his chest, trying to find some strength to save herself from him, but he was far taller than her and outmatched her in strength by far. At her shove, he pushed one of her hands away and then laid that hand against her throat.
She fell still as he pinned her back against the chest of drawers, fixing her in place. She tried to breathe deeply around his hand, but the effort was now strained. She stopped fighting him and just stayed perfectly still. The only movement was in her eyes as tears began to trickle down her cheeks. She didn’t try to stop them, what would be the point?
He was evidently unmoved by her tears. He was staring back at her, his cheeks almost as red as his auburn hair from the animation of his attack on her. He moved his face toward her as he held her in place with her throat.
“I will not have a disobedient wife,” he whispered with venom in her ear.
Phoebe closed her eyes, feeling the fear ricochet through her body so much that her legs were wobbling beneath her, and her palms were clammy.
One of these days, he may end up killing me.
* * *
Francis arrived at his sister’s house with a spring in his step. He hadn’t seen Diana for months, not whilst he had been travelling across the continent, nor her husband, his good friend the Marquess of Dodge. As he waited for the door of the townhouse in London to open, he leaned on the doorframe, listening to the voices beyond.
“That will be him!” He could hear Diana’s voice calling excitedly. “He’s here at last. Jenkins, don’t worry, you do not need to get the door. I’ll answer this one.” She clearly addressed the butler with her last statement.
“You’re running like an excited puppy,” her husband was chuckling at her.
“He’s my brother, I haven’t seen him in almost a year. How else do you expect me to behave?” she laughed just as she flung open the door. “Francis!” She burst out of the door and barreled into Francis’ arms.
He was so startled he nearly fell down the front porch steps as he caught her. He laughed too, amazed at his sister’s strength in her delight to see him again.
She looked up at him, her smile even wider than his. The blue eyes they shared were darting up and down his figure now, clearly trying to take him in.
“You look tanned, and very happy,” she said, smiling up at him. Unlike himself, her hair was a touch lighter than his, with dark brown hair swept up into an ornate updo.
“You look…incredibly regal,” he said and held out his sister’s hands, examining her dress as she led him into the house. “Well, the Marchioness of Dodge certainly has some fine clothes now.”
“You are too kind to me,” she said, taking his arm as she led him further into the entrance hall. “Why did you not tell me you were back sooner? Your note said you arrived yesterday.”
