Page 64 of Project Duchess
She gaped at him, but clearly he was serious. “Joshua doesn’t care about the dukedom. He doesn’t care about much of anything these days, except for his stupid trips to Leicester . . . and perhaps protecting me.”
“Perhaps?” He relaxed his grip on her arm and softened his tone. “Trust me, he definitely cares about protectingyou. He made that painfully clear this afternoon.”
A pox on her brother. “Did he say something to you? Oh, Lord, what did he tell you? I suppose he warned you away from me.”
“He threatened to call me out if I didn’t leave you be.”
“What?” Pulling free of him, she balled her hands into fists. “I will thrash that devil myself. How dare he suggest a duel, after the way Papa died?”
Grey lifted an eyebrow. “You can’t blame him, considering what you and I were doing in that clearing. Any fool could have seen through our excuses. And your brother is no fool. Not to mention that he seems determined to protect you from any man who—”
He halted, a look of horror spreading over his features. “Sothat’swhat you meant when you said he wouldn’t kill over the sale of the dower house. Because you know there’s only one thing hewouldkill over. You.Keeping you safe.”
She turned away, unable to bear his expression. He knew. Or rather, he suspected the truth.
And all at once, her years of embarrassment and shame came flooding back.
Chapter Eighteen
“Bastard!” Grey growled.
Beatrice shot him a wary glance. “Who? My brother?”
“No. Your uncle Armie.”
When Grey saw the color drain from her, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. He felt rooted to the floor. What kind of monster did . . . what that arse must have done to her to make her brother wish to murder him?
Thorn’s remark came back to him once more.I suspect that Miss Wolfe is more worldly wise than you think.
Grey should have put it together when the servants were talking about the man’s peccadilloes, but he hadn’t thought the fellow would . . . “Please tell me your uncle Armie didn’t take your innocence.”
“What? No!” A blush stained her cheeks. “I mean, he did, but not in the way you mean. He just stripped it from me word by filthy word.” She moved to the stove and started filling a plate with stew, as if the action could anchor her in normalcy.
There was nothing normal about this. Grey’s very blood ran cold at the thought of her enduring whatever her uncle—heruncle, for God’s sake—had dished out. “So he . . . never touched you.”
Her back went rigid. “Well, of course hetouchedme. But he always tried to disguise it as . . . perfectly natural. A hard hug that pressed my breasts against him, a ‘friendly’ slap on the behind, a lingering kiss to my cheek so he could get close enough to look down the front of my . . . gowns.”
“Gowns?So he made a regular practice of such attentions.”
“Oh yes,” she said in a guilt-ridden voice that infuriated him on her behalf.
When she fell silent and came over to place a heaping plate of stew opposite hers on the table, then stood there slicing bread to add to his plate, he resisted the urge to pepper her with questions.
“Tell me everything, sweetheart.”
When she continued to say nothing, he approached her from behind. It disturbed him that she wouldn’t look at him. She had no reason to be ashamed.
He curled his hands into fists, wishing her uncle Armie wasn’t dead so Grey could beat him to death. “How old were you when it started?”
“I don’t know—sixteen? My grandmother was still alive.”
She’d been only a girl, for God’s sake. Grey could hardly bear to think of it.
“After his wife, my aunt, died,” she went on, “it was just me and him most of the time. And the servants, of course. Grandpapa was gone, Joshua was posted abroad, Grandmama was consumptive, and Uncle Armie was lord of the manor in every way you might imagine. It made it hard for me to escape him.”
So the bastard had used his power over her to try forcing her to his will. Grey’s every feeling revolted to think of what she’d suffered, but he kept silent, wanting to give her the freedom to talk about it. It was important to discuss such things. He’d never had that chance during the time his aunt and uncle had tried bending him totheirwill. He’d felt all alone . . . until Vanessa had grown old enough to listen.
Even then, he hadn’t told her everything, not wanting to poison her feelings for her parents, since they’d never treatedherill.
