I am attracted to gentlemen. Gentle-men. Kind, warm-hearted. Soft.
Aaron was none of those things any longer. He was hard. Unrelenting. Selfish. Strong. She closed her eyes, pretending she was sleeping, wanting to forget his presence and the feelings it stirred.
She must have fallen asleep because there seemed to be no time at all before the carriage was coming to a halt. She opened her eyes to see the grandiose entrance to Haventon, rebuilt after her mother and father had passed away, in imitation of the Parthenon. She had always thought it looked ridiculous, tacked onto an English country house of Georgian style.
Now, it filled her with dread.
Aaron escorted her inside and through the grand hall, all marble and glittering chandeliers. Finally, they came to the drawing room where Aunt Nora and Uncle Benjamin were sitting. They rose as the Duke of Winchester was announced, but their greetings were followed by venomous darts at Catherine. Shehung back by the door, ducking her head and wishing for the punishment to begin, so that it might be over sooner.
“Thank you for bringing our niece back to us, Your Grace,” Uncle Benjamin scathed, puffing out his chest, though it still did not match the circumference of his considerable stomach. “I sincerely apologize for the trouble she has caused you.”
“She will be disciplined, we can assure you,” Aunt Nora snapped.
She was as thin as a rake and taller than her rotund husband. While his hair was red and fiery, hers was graying and tied severely back so that it seemed her face was pulled tight as well.
“I thought it best to return her to you as a nod to our former acquaintanceship,” Aaron approached.
Aunt Nora and Uncle Benjamin glanced at each other.
“Is she… known to you?” Uncle Benjamin asked, glancing at Catherine.
“We had no idea. My sister’s family were little more than squires. Bumpkins, in fact,” Aunt Nora said, looking down at Catherine as she might look at dirty footprints tracked across her marble floor.
“Yes, a long time ago,” Aaron replied, “though I scarcely remember it.”
That cut Catherine deeply. She fought back tears of heartbreak at her former playmate’s indifference towards her and fear at her own predicament. Tears would only inflame Aunt Nora, who could not abide weakness.
Would it be the cellar this time? Locked away with no daylight and only bread and water.
Or perhaps the belt? A thrashing to beat me into submission. Or both?
A wave of sickness ran through her, and she suddenly felt dizzy. She staggered and put a hand to the back of a chair to steady herself. Aaron noticed first and moved to her side, taking her elbow and guiding her into the cushioned seat.
“You ought to take better care of your ward,” he said, his voice already beginning to muffle in Catherine’s ears as he fixed Uncle Benjamin with an accusatory stare. “The girl is plainly ill. She never should have traveled to London unattended—walked here, if I’m not mistaken. The roads are a damned sight more dangerous, even in broad daylight.”
The room was spinning around Catherine now, and she was terrified she might purge the contents of her stomach. That would earn additional punishment as the furniture in the drawing room had recently been replaced in the French style.
What is wrong with me? I ache all over. I am shivering and yet there is sweat on my brow! Oh Lord, if this is what took my parents, then let it take me quickly and end all of this.
“Oh, never concern yourself, Your Grace,” Aunt Nora chirped politely. “We have a supply of medicine that will cure these symptoms. The same ailment that took the lives of her parents, I fear.”
Catherine looked up, frowning. It had not been said to her before, not in those terms at least. Aaron was staring at her, but he looked away when she glanced at him. Had there been pity in those eyes? That would be something. An emotion. Anything would be better than his glacial coldness.
“Indeed. I fancied I knew what her ailment was, but… if it is something hereditary, then I suppose that explains her condition,” he murmured.
Uncle Benjamin heaved forward, smiling. “Do not trouble yourself, Your Grace. Come, will you join me for a brandy and cigar in the billiard room?”
Aunt Nora had whisked over to Catherine’s side and taken her arm. It was a pincer grip with bony fingers that dug into her flesh without giving any outward sign of doing so.
“No, I do not wish to make an evening of this. I have much to do back at Caerleon. I will leave her with you, Haventon, and bid you both a good afternoon.”
He did not wait to be shown out of the house but strode away. Catherine heard his footsteps across the marble floor of the foyer, followed by the front door being opened. There was a pause, a silence. Then it slammed closed.
Her heart sank.
Fear made her close her eyes until iron fingers gripped her chin, wrenching her head upwards.
“Open your eyes, you wretched hussy!”
