Page 72 of The Villain
“Daphne, please …”
Ignoring her father’s pleading, she dashed away her tears.
“What did you do with the money?” she screamed, hands balling into fists at her sides. “The ten thousand pounds he paid you to bed me! Where is it? What have you done with it?”
“The bank draft only reached us a few days ago,” Bertram said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
He acted as if selling her to Adam had meant no more to him than the turn of a card in a gaming hell.
“By then, we’d already been forced to sell Fairchild House to pay our debts,” her father chimed in. “The money is all we have to live off of now.”
A laugh bubbled in her throat, the sound deranged and shrill, even to her own ears. It began as a giggle, but swiftly grew into a cackle that nearly shook the rafters.
The bloody fools. They had fallen into Adam’s trap, just as she had. He had dangled thirty thousand pounds in front of her, knowing full well by the time she’d earned it, her family would have lost everything. He’d known they’d be desperate and greedy enough to accept payment for the use of her body. How ironic, that the ten thousand pounds her father had taken in exchange for her was not even one third of what she herself had earned.
And to think, she had intended to come home with that money and turn it over to them. Daphne, the unexpected hero … the salvation of the Fairchild family.
Her eyes began to water as the laughter increased, her sides beginning to ache with how hard it rocked her insides. The two men watched her as if she’d gone mad, and perhaps she had. Finally, she’d broken under the strain of it all.
It was so ridiculous, what could she do but laugh? She had earned the money, only to discover her family was far beyond redemption.
Finally, she fell silent, straightening and swiping at her damp cheeks.
“You sold me,” she said with another little chuckle. “The two of you kept that money knowing what he would do to me … knowing …”
Bertram was on his feet in a moment, reaching out to grasp her shoulders. “We did what needed to be done! And perhaps, for once in your life, you did what was required of you, as well.”
Daphne shoved him so hard, he stumbled back onto the table, splintering the wood and sending china crashing to the floor. Her father leapt to his feet, crying out in dismay—whether in shock over her behavior or in reaction to his lost dinner, she was not certain.
“Do not ever touch me again,” she growled, stepping forward to loom over him. “I did what was needed … by ferreting out the truth about you. You, and Father, and Uncle William.”
“I knew it,” Bertram snarled, struggling to his knees and attempting to wipe the soup from his hair using his sleeve. “I knew he would poison you against me.”
“Poison,” she said with a scoff. “That is exactly what you are … all of you! I know what you did to Olivia, Bertram. Father, I know about all the times you hid his secrets … all the people you paid to keep silent while your son went about raping half the debutantes in London! ‘Tis no wonder we were so easily beggared.”
“Now, see here,” Bertram blustered, finding his way to his feet.
“I know about how Father sent Uncle William to dispose of the evidence,” she accused, jabbing his chest with her index finger. “To dispose ofyourchild.”
Her brother blanched, finally seeming to realize there was nothing he could say to convince her to believe his lies. She knew the truth, and he had been exposed for the lecher he was.
“I loved you,” she whispered, another tear slipping down her cheek, and then another. “I loved you so much, I was willing to risk my reputation, my life, mybody, to exonerate you. To set things right. And you let me … you let me put myself in that position, all the while knowing this was a mess of your making.”
“Daff, listen to me,” he said, softening his tone and trying to force a smile. “It was a simple indiscretion, that is all. At times, a gentleman misinterprets a lady’s signals … it was a simple misunderstanding. Surely, you must know—”
“No,” she interjected. “I do not know you. I’ve now come to realize I never did.”
Turning for the door, she put them behind her, now unable to even abide the sight of them. A part of her had hoped they could be redeemed … yet, she knew now what a mistake that had been. They had not been worth her sacrifice—but, God help her, they would not reap the benefits of what she had earned. She would figure out a way to build a life for herself. She would put them all behind her—Bertram, her father … Adam.
“Daphne! Daff … wait!”
She paused halfway down the corridor, turning back to find Bertram rushing toward her, his eyes wide with desperation. Was that fear she saw? Had Adam been right all along? Had ruining her also ruined Bertram? She certainly hoped so.
“I saw her, Bertram,” she murmured, shaking her head. “I saw Olivia with my own eyes and witnessed her fear. She looked at me and saw you … and I’ve never seen a more terrified woman in my life. And you have the nerve to call it a mereindiscretion?”
He lowered his head, finally finding the grace to look ashamed of himself. “Things weren’t supposed to happen this way, Daff. You have to believe me.”
“No,” she agreed. “I was not supposed to reach adulthood only to find that the people I love—the men I counted on to protect me—turned out to be the true villains.”
