“My lady.”
She glanced up. The betrayal had been replaced with resignation. “Goodbye, my lord. Thank you again for coming to my assistance this morning.” The words were a token.
“I was happy to be of service.” But his words must sound hypocritical if she believed he was responsible for her father’s appearance. And yet…
He shook himself.
“Good day, Westcott.” Crossings sent him a threatening stare.
And as quickly as Lady Gardenia came into his life, she was gone.
And that guilt he felt only grew stronger.
Trapped Again
She’d been a fool to trust Lord Westcott—to imagine that he was any different than other men. She’d been a fool to think she was safe in his home. She’d trusted him to the extent that, rather than make plans to find her sister, she’d napped. Exhausted from the sleepless night she’d had before, she’d only meant to lie down for a few minutes.
She’d slept while the baron sent for her father.
She should have known better than to defy her father’s wishes. The pain of his grip, she knew, was quite intentional. It was a promise of what was to come.
Her father marched her to the door and didn’t speak until it closed behind them.
Nor did he speak as he marched her to the carriage.
Nia’s feet barely touched the step when he all but threw her into the carriage, climbed in behind her, banged on the ceiling, and then—
Pain exploded in her cheek before she could brace herself.
She’d known it was coming. She was not surprised. And yet, the sharp stinging caught her unaware.
She did not raise a hand to soothe the burning, nor did she cry out in pain. Doing either would only make matters worse.
“You dare to disgrace me?” His voice came out low. The words were the first bursts of lava, warning of pending, devastating eruption.
“I didn’t mean to—”
Her head whipped around in the other direction following a second slap—this one striking her ear. She felt a popping, and then shocking pain inside.
“Did I give you permission to speak?” Nia watched his mouth move, his voice sounding muffled. She struggled against the urge to drop her head and bury her face in her hands.
She had nowhere to go. At her father’s mercy, she could do nothing to protect herself. For a few brief hours, she’d taken her life into her own hands. She’d imagined she could make her own decisions.
She should have known she belonged to her father. The Duke of Crossings controlled everything in his realm.
She stared at the floor, defeated.
Her father continued berating her, but she could barely hear his words over the ringing in her head.
She could endure his punishment—whatever he had in mind. Anything was preferable to marrying Dewberry. Nausea threatened just as the carriage jerked to a halt outside of her father’s townhouse. Both she and her father waited for the outrider to open the door before moving.
Nia climbed out behind her father, lifting her chin as she emerged, acting as though everything was perfectly normal. Crying or carrying on would only embarrass him. That was the worst thing she could do.
Mr. Bulwark, the butler, held the door wide but did not meet her gaze. Nor did the footman or either of the maids she passed on the way to her bedchamber.
She’d not find sympathy here. This was her father’s domain. She had no doubt that they considered her actions thankless and selfish.
But none of them had looked into the Duke of Dewberry’s cold eyes while standing at the altar. They had not faced the prospect of giving ownership of their most intimate selves to… that man.
