Page 58 of The Villain
“A whore?” she spat, avoiding his gaze, shame burning her cheeks.
Even now, saying the word called to mind the night he’d taken her maidenhead—when he’d lain on top of her and whispered the word in her ear before tearing into her with his cock.
He reached out to tip her chin up with his fingers, shaking his head once she’d met his gaze.
“A woman more beautiful and daring than any of them could hope to be. Do you not understand why those stuffy old windbags and withered-up crones hate ladies like you? It is because they secretly wish they could display their talents with something more than bland watercolors or insipid needlepoint. It is because they want to be the sort of woman a man would swim across oceans and crawl over deserts to claim. Because they wish they were like you … they wish tobeyou. They might turn their noses up to find you here with me … but they will go home green with envy that no man would pay a ha’penny fortheirbodies, let alone a grand fortune like thirty thousand pounds.”
Her mouth fell open, the impact of his words leaving her breathless. Was that truly what he thought of her? His words proved the kindest he’d ever spoken to her, even when she considered that he was only fattening her up for the slaughter … preparing her to be flaunted as his lover in a public setting.
“When you walk into that dinner party tomorrow night, you will do so with your head held high,” he told her, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You will let them see how little you care for their opinions. And you will leave the next morning a very wealthy woman.”
Closing her mouth, she nodded, acquiescing as she knew she must. One more day. She could endure it … she had lived through the twenty-nine before it.
Without another word, Adam re-opened the sash of her robe, tearing the garment from her shoulders and tossing it aside. Then, he swept her off her feet and tumbled her onto the bed, where he joined her and proceeded to make her forget about her troubles, offering her comfort in the form of pleasure.
Daphne’s final day at Dunnottar began innocently enough. After breakfast with Adam, she was informed the dressmaker had come to deliver her gown and its accoutrements. The woman insisted on a final fitting to ensure the fit was exact. Satisfied, she had left after collecting a generous reward from Adam for having turned out an elegant evening gown in three short days.
After their morning fencing bout, however, the day took an unexpected turn. Instead of going on their morning ride, they adjourned to the study, where Adam mentioned having some affairs that could not wait until later. The unexpected break in their routine hardly ruffled her. She sat before the harp and played while he worked, taking comfort in the familiar, playing all her favorite pieces on the beautiful instrument. After today, she would never get to touch it again.
Around the time they typically took the afternoon meal, Adam stood and declared his work to be complete. Then, studying the clock standing near one of the hearths, he gestured for her to stand.
“Everything should be arranged now,” he declared, rounding the desk to approach her. “Come.”
Confusion furrowed her brow, but she trailed him, now accustomed to following his commands swiftly and without question. He led her to the main hall of the palace, where Maeve stood waiting for them with a large basket held in one hand. But it was the sight of the person standing beside her that made Daphne’s steps falter. She choked on a gasp and blinked several times, certain her eyes must surely be deceiving her.
Yet, Serena stood before her, looking quite adorable in a walking dress of white muslin, her auburn ringlets tied back with a matching ribbon.
Gaping at her, then at Adam, Daphne tried to wrap her mind around what she was seeing—because, surely, he had not arranged for her to spend time in Serena’s company.
Yet, as the little girl rushed forward and leapt into Adam’s arms, it became clear this was exactly what was happening.
“Are you ready for our walk, Princess?” he asked, the warmth in his voice when he spoke to the child nearly bringing tears to Daphne’s eyes.
He might hate the Fairchild family, but there could be no denying his love for Serena.
“Oh, yes,” the girl replied with a wide smile. “Do you think Cook packed jam tartlets in our basket?”
With a chuckle, he gave one of Serena’s curls a gentle tug. “Perhaps. We shall have to wait and see. If we open the basket now, that would ruin the surprise.”
Setting the girl back on her feet, he took her hand, then extended the other one to Maeve. The maid beamed while handing the basket over, then executed a swift curtsy and disappeared down the corridor.
Daphne lowered her gaze and fumbled with the skirts of her gown, feeling like an intruder. The two of them were part of a family to which she did not belong. That Serena was of her own blood made no difference when the child did not know her.
“Come, little dove,” Adam said, drawing her gaze up from the floor. “Serena is quite looking forward to spending the afternoon with us.”
Furrowing her brow, she darted a glance at the little girl, who was watching her with open curiosity while clinging to her uncle’s hand.
“You … you wish me to come with you?”
Leaning in close and lowering his voice so only she could hear him, he murmured in her ear. “I have already secured your promise to keep her existence a secret. So, what is the harm in allowing you a few hours with her?”
Her eyes stung as gratitude over the simple gesture overwhelmed her. While he had done small things that might be considered kind during her time here, they were as beneficial to him as they were to her. Purchasing her garments meant she always looked her best for him. Letting her play the harp entertained him. The gown he’d had made for her would be worn to a party designed to achieve his own aims. Even allowing her to return after throwing her out benefited him, as it meant she went on warming his bed.
But this … allowing her to spend time with Serena did nothing to benefit him. Which meant he had decided to do it for her … and perhaps, in a way, for the child, as well.
“Thank you,” she whispered hoarsely, fighting the urge to weep.
She did not want to upset Serena, who would have no idea why Daphne stood there blubbering like a fool.
