Page 56 of The Villain
Anger burned the surface of her skin, her eyes filling with tears that she dashed away with a shaking hand. Damn Bertram, he had turned out to be the worst sort of cur. She could not even find the words to defend him, having seen the child for herself and witnessing Olivia’s horror at being in the presence of a Fairchild.
“So, because Bertram and your father could not be counted upon, she went to the only other man in London who might take pity upon her,” Adam said.
“Uncle William,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “What did he do to her?”
“He went to your father, of course, who brought him into the fold,” Adam spat, his hand stilling with the brush as his voice quivered with fury. “Together, the two decided Olivia must be dealt with before she could bring public shame upon the Fairchild family. She could not simply be bought off the way the other ladies had been, that much was clear. William took the lead, insisting he had things well in hand. He called upon Olivia and told her Bertram was young and foolish and might need some time to come to his senses. In the meantime, her condition would need to be hidden from the public. He told her he would send for her … have her taken to some estate owned by your family where she could hide in peace and await Bertram’s arrival. William insisted he would bring your brother to heel, and all would be well. Olivia has always been a gentle soul, and far too trusting. She believed him.”
Daphne gripped the edge of the tub so tight, her fingers began to ache. She didn’t dare move, or speak, or even breathe, needing to hear what her mind had already guessed at … needing him to say it aloud.
“He tricked her,” Adam whispered, his voice lowered and raspy with rage. “He met her and spirited her away under the cover of darkness … but it was no estate he took her to. Instead, he drove her clear across England to an asylum for unwed mothers.”
The acrid taste of vomit lingered in the back of her throat, and she feared she would become violently ill. Asylums for unwed mothers were little more than prisons run by old crones who spent more time chastising the poor women for being wantons than they did actually caring for them. Some of them were known for conditions little better than Newgate, with many of the women wasting away while waiting to give birth, or dying while in labor. The children then became orphans, handed off to the woman’s family or placed in orphanages or convents. To think of Olivia—a sweet young lady who had loved flowers and music—in such a place made her want to wretch.
“Oh, Adam …”
He did not reply, but continued with his tale, the words coming faster now, as if he needed to get them out.
“I did not discover her location for several months. Her cousin wrote to tell me she had disappeared, assuming she’d run off with Bertram, whose company she’d been seen in several times. I immediately traveled to London and sought Bertram out. He insisted he had not seen her in quite some time and had no idea where she’d gone. It wasn’t until I discovered her in that asylum, where she had already given birth to Serena—and nearly died in the process—that I realized that he’d lied to me. The child resembled him too strongly for anyone else to have sired her.”
She craned her neck to look at him, which was made difficult with his hand fisting her hair. He had tightened his grip, causing her scalp to sting as she tried to look at him, to see the emotion he hid beneath a flat tone. Just as they had that night in the music room, his eyes appeared haunted, swirling with pain and grief.
“I cannot imagine what she went through,” she whispered, the only words she could say as Adam would have scoffed at any apology she offered.
“A cold room with no hearth,” he growled, lifting his gaze to meet hers. “Meager food, and hours of chores forced upon her … a penance for her sin, they said. The midwives who cared for her … they told her the pain was her burden to bear. They did nothing to help her, even when she nearly bled to death. God was judging her … she must suffer his wrath. And if she lived, it meant she had atoned and He had accepted her repentance.”
She sniffled and choked back a sob, unable to stifle her tears any longer. Her heart ached for Olivia, who had done nothing to deserve her fate. Just as Daphne had done nothing to deserve hers … and yet, an overwhelming guilt caused her to question her own innocence. How could she have walked about so oblivious to all of this? It had happened under her nose, but she’d been so self-absorbed and concerned with her own affairs, she hadn’t recognized the plight of another woman. A woman she might have helped if she’d known.
“I brought her home and called for the best doctor in Kincardineshire … put her in her bedroom just down the corridor from this one and hoped being surrounded by her own things would cheer her up. Niall … damn the fool … he’d been in love with her since we were children and he was a mere stable boy. He’d been her first kiss, he’d taught her to ride, he … he thought perhaps he could help. But it was too late. Her mind had fractured from the distress … she went mad. In the midst of all her rambling and ranting, we discerned that the midwives had mentioned sending for William to come retrieve the child.”
She gasped, remembering the first time she’d ever encountered Olivia. She had screamed and clawed at Daphne, declaring she would not take ‘her’ away. The ‘her’ had been Serena, she felt certain. Olivia had feared a Fairchild would come and take away her daughter. As the pieces of this crumbled mosaic began to form a clear picture, Daphne despised what she saw … disdain welled up deep in her gut for the man who had raised her and the brother who had fooled her into believing him the good sort. The best man there was, she’d often called him. It made her ill to realize he was the complete opposite of everything she’d ever believed.
“You accused Uncle William of murder,” she reminded him.
He shook his head. “You assumed that, but I never actually said he murdered her … I said he paid for her life with his. You saw her, Daphne … she did not die, but she is trapped inside her fractured mind. It is as if all the things that made her who she was died. Sometimes, I believe she wishes she had.”
“You must know, I would never …” she trailed off with a hiccup, trying to rein in her turbulent emotions. “I would never try to hurt Serena, or take her away from her family.”
“No,” he agreed, releasing her hair and cupping her face. “I do not believe you would, little dove. But Bertram or your father might, if they knew she had survived. As far as they are concerned, she died at birth … and that is how it will remain.”
She nodded, flinching when he gripped her jaw, his fingers tightening almost painfully. “I promise … I will say nothing.”
“I do not think you want to know what the consequences will be if you forget yourself and let it slip,” he murmured, a clear threat in his lowered voice. “I think we understand each other, Daphne. Do we not?”
She took a shaky breath and nodded again, fear ramping up her pulse and making her cunt clench with longing. How could this man make her respond to fear and degradation with lust? Just now, she found herself wishing he’d lower his hand, tighten his fingers around her throat again and give her more of the oblivion he had subjected her to in his study. She wanted him to blot out the entire world, where only the two of them remained in sharp focus, and claim her body in a way no one else had. She doubted anyone else ever would.
“And you understand now why you must pay,” he added, inclining his head and studying her pensively. “Why the only way to truly ruin Bertram is to ruin you?”
Again, she nodded. Because she understood better than he imagined … she even agreed with him that it must be her. Bertram would not care about anyone else, but his sister … he would take her ruination as a personal affront.
“I understand,” she whispered, lowering her eyes. “Do what you must, Adam. Whatever you think you need to do to me … I can endure it.”
Nodding slowly, he stroked his thumb over her lips. “Aye, I know you can. Perhaps that is why I’ve enjoyed this far more than I ought to … because you endure and submit so beautifully. If you were not who you were, and I was not who I am …”
Her breath hitched when he fell silent, her gaze searching his as he looked away and shook his head.
What?She wanted to ask him.What would happen if I was someone else—if you were someone else?
But he did not continue. He simply shook his head and released her, rising from the stool.
