Chadwick glared furiously, and her father lifted his chin and pointed.
“Jezebel!” he cried. “I did not raise you to become a vessel of vice. If you wish to reform any parts of your tattered soul, you will leave this den of iniquity at once and submit to me, daughter. Only penance of the flesh can save you now!”
Felicity swallowed, searching for her voice. “I—” she whispered. She drew in a breath. “Whatever Jasper Grange told you is a lie. I’ve been staying here under the protection of Mrs. Dove-Lyon, a respectablewidow. I do some work here as a nurse, and that is what he saw.”
“You think your word more reliable than a man of good faith?” her father spat.
“If he’s a man of good faith, why was he in my club?” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said.
“Silence, serpent!”
She snorted in amusement.
“Father, go home,” Felicity said. She felt like a hand was tightening around her throat. “I won’t go back home. You can keep the money if that is all you care about.”
“This is not about the spoils of coin. You are my blood. Until you pass from my hands to your husband’s you are my property, and I will not let you soil my lineage with wickedness. Heed your purpose.”
“I won’t marry him, and you can’t make me,” Felicity said, hating how petulant her words sounded.
Chadwick stepped forward. “Felicity, be reasonable. You’re a spinster. No one wants you. You should be grateful I am still willing to marry you after all you’ve done to me and your family. Come home, and we can work through our grievances privately.”
He looked around and Felicity froze. She could feel it then. The stares of many faces, but she could not make herself look. Tristan was right. They should have done this privately, but then she’d be in very close quarters with her father and Chadwick. At least up here they could not grab her.
“I’ll never forgive you for what you did to me. You’re a monster. You took me against my will and then blamed me for your heinous actions. You don’t care for me, and you never have. You want my inheritance.”
His face flushed and he took another step forward. “You’ll regret this,” he spat. The cords of his neck swelled. “You’re—you’re no better now than when I had your face in the dirt. But it seems you’d rather be a harlot than a wife. You’ll learn your place, one way or another.”
Felicity couldn’t move. The words hit her like arrows. Her lungs would not inflate, though she tried to take a breath.
He held her gaze, the fury there sending chills down her spine. Then he threw up his arms as he turned away and strode out of the room. Her father remained standing there, his face bleached of color, jowls shaking.
“You see the pain you’ve caused? You’re a pestilence on your family. You’ve shamed us. You’ve ruined your sisters’ future.”
“If you care for your life, get out of my club now,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon ordered.
Felicity turned away from her father, tears blurring her eyes. Tristan stood there, hands white knuckled as they gripped the back of a metal chair like he could rip it in half. Mrs. Dove-Lyon was silent as she turned away from the railing in a swish of black skirts.
“Dear, you should lie down. I’ll send Milly.” She grabbed Felicity’s arm in a firm grip and pulled her close. “Remember what I said. None of what they said is true.”
Felicity gave her a jerky nod as she strode away. She had to move, to run, or she might scream and further embarrass herself. Their words echoed through her mind, andshe knewshe shouldn’t take them to heart. She was none of those things they accused her of, and yet it did not stop the shame that struck her through the chest every time she breathed, like she was being stabbed over and over.
She passed shocked people as she ran through the halls. She slammed into her door and pushed it open. Closed and locked. She waited. In the stillness of her room there was nothing but her and her pounding heart. She rushed into motion, taking the small trunk that she had carried when she left home and shoving her meager clothing inside. The dresses and garments that had been made for her would have to be left behind. She couldn’t carry them, and she wouldn’t have need for them. Her mind raced with thoughts of fleeing. Here was no longer safe for her. Her father was a relentless man. He would not stopwith just one visit. Felicity had a suspicious feeling Chadwick wouldn’t either. He wanted to punish her for rejecting him, for daring to leave him. He’d said as much when he’d had her on the ground and after, when she’d run for her parents’ help only to be accused of seducing him into such actions.
There must be somewhere she could go. Far away. Where no one would know her, and she could use her meager skills to earn her place. She stood and closed her trunk. The turbulence inside her settled somewhat now that she had a plan. She was a twenty-four-year-old woman. She could do this. She’d stood up to them. Did it matter she’d been shaking at the knees the entire time?
No. She’d still done it.
It pained her to leave this temporary haven. She cared for the people who lived here, the varied spirits she never would have met otherwise. To think that she’d once never considered leaving Winter’s Well. As a little girl, she’d imagined a life just like her mother’s. Only the village lacked men of marriageable age or she might still be there. What would her life be like if she’d married young? Would she have a family by now? Two, maybe three children? She wanted to be a mother, a wife, but those dreams felt... small now. The world was so much bigger than she’d ever known.
Felicity picked up her trunk. She pushed her shoulders back and opened her door. There was no one waiting there for her. She didn’t know who she expected, but... she had friends here, and then there was Tristan. Where was Tristan? Her heart thumped sharply with disappointment.
She sniffled and left her room. The house hummed with its usual rhythm of life, and yet she was alone. Perhaps this was a mercy. Felicity walked quickly in the direction that took her farthest from the main door of the Den—where her father would have left,ifhe’d left. She hurried down to the door where deliveries were made, not near the gambling floor but where the household servants came and wentquietly. She did run into people—two men unloading crates who dipped their caps but did not recognize her nor she them.
Once outside, she put up her hood and hurried down the street. When she’d arrived here, she’d been with Trina, one of the upstairs ladies. She hadn’t ventured out on her own ever. How was she going to navigate this incredibly large city? She stopped at a corner, carts and horses passing, their occupants paying her no mind. On the next street, Felicity passed a woman selling vegetables from the back of a cart. Felicity paused.
“Excuse me, ma’am. Do you know where I can find a mail coach to take me north?”
The woman eyed her skeptically, taking in her attire. Felicity looked down at herself. She was in her plain cream day dress and her brown cloak. Her walking boots peeked out from under her hem.
