His mother’s lips trembled, and she pressed them tightly together.
Henry sneered. “Is that all you have to say, Mother?”
Lady Stokeford straightened her shoulders. “If you cannot curb your bad behavior, then you must keep your distance from Hobsworth, or you will drag Lord Stokeford’s heir down with you. Moreover, if you care for your friend at all, then you will—”
“Say no more, Mother.” Henry stepped back. “You can assure the earl that your bastard son will no longer taint the Stokeford earldom by consorting with its heir.”
“I hope you take some time to reflect on your actions and how badly they injure your mother who loves you.”
Lady Stokeford lifted her chin and turned her face from her son with the martyred air she had perfected over the years, once again transforming herself from villain to victim.
*
Annabel winced asshe lowered her nightgown to inspect the tender bruise on her upper arm. The size of a thumbprint and a horrible purplish black color, it paled in comparison to the welt Lord Craventhorp’s cruel fingers had left on the sensitive skin of her underarm. It was a good thing that summer was coming to an end, as she wouldn’t be able to wear short sleeves for quite some time.
“Cara mia!” Stella caught sight of the bruise and bustled over to Annabel. “What happened? Did you hurt yourself?”
Annabel shook her head and blinked back her tears of shame.
“No?” Stella raised her hands as if the answer to her question hovered above in an invisible cloud. “Then why is your beautiful skin bruised purple?”
Annabel bit her lip and sank onto the tufted green ottoman in front of her dressing table.
“He…he kept pressing his fingers, and I couldn’t make a sound because I didn’t dare cause a commotion.”
“He? Pressing fingers? Who? Did someone hurt youon purpose?” Stella’s voice grew high-pitched and frantic. “Was it your papa?” Her hand flew to her mouth. “He has been so cross lately. But I never thought he’d—”
“Not Papa,” Annabel interjected. “The man he says must be my husband, Lord Craventhorp.”
Stella drew back, fear and surprise etched into the creases of her matronly face. “Then we must show him this at once, so he can release you from the monstrous agreement!”
“He’ll never believe me. I objected to the union before I met Lord Craventhorp, and Papa thinks me willful. He is furious that I questioned his judgment. You know, Papa. He doesn’t like to be corrected, and he’ll think I’m making up tales to prove him wrong.” Annabel shifted her body and caught sight of herself in the looking glass. The bruise sat on her arm like a stamp, marking her as the property of Lord Craventhorp. “I have been too strong-headed and stubborn in the past. Papa believes I’m a foolish girl who reads too many novels and will do anything to avoid a good match.”
“Don’t worry,cara. You have proof of your words. You will show him the bruise, and he will see you are not lying.” Stella smoothed Annabel’s dark hair. “I know your papa. I know how much he loved your mama. He won’t let that brute hurt hisbambinaagain. I am certain. Trust me.”
Annabel shook her head. “You are determined to remember Papa as he was, even though you’ve witnessed the change in him over the years. He won’t believe me. He will say it is my fault. That I did it to myself or caused it to happen.” She looked up at Stella. “Perhaps I did. I feel so ashamed.” She buried her face in her hands.
“Your fault!Impossibile!”
Annabel repositioned her nightgown and stood up. “I should have screamed and not worried about causing a disturbance.” She twisted her hands. “Why did I keep quiet and let him hurt me?”
“Maybe there is a witness?” Stella’s voice raised, sounding hopeful.
“That wouldn’t help at all. If anything, it will hurt me. Lord Craventhorp was clever. He made it seem—romantic—hurting me while making it appear as though he was whispering sweet nothings in my ear. If someone happened upon us, they wouldn’t have suspected anything was amiss.” Annabel scoffed. “And who would believe me, over a viscount?”
“You don’t know that to be true. Try to remember if you saw anyone else in the garden. There must be someone—”
Annabel forced her mind back as she tried to recreate the scene. “All I see are tall hedges. The lighting is dim. Except for the terrace. That’s flooded with gaslight, and—yes—there are two women!”
“Where?” Stella’s face brightened.
“On the terrace. I ran past them, but I don’t think they saw Lord Craventhorp,” Annabel stopped as her memory flooded back. “Unless…”
“What?”
“I thought Lord Craventhorp was following behind me, and when I turned to look over my shoulder, someone grabbed me—or maybe, I collided with the person. I don’t know. I was so frightened I couldn’t think. It was a man. He said something to me, but I don’t remember what. All I could see was Lord Craventhorp’s face, so I freed myself and ran from him.”
“Was it that devil, Craventhorp?”
