Page 43 of The Damsel
She wrinkled her nose at him and went back to staring at the ceiling. “When I went to London, it was for my youngest sister’s birthday. Ophelia is eight and ten now, and will soon make her debut.”
He did not miss a beat, falling right into her abrupt change of subject. “How wonderful for her. Your mother must be proud.”
She scowled, her lips puckering as if she’d tasted something rancid. “Of course she is. The dowager has always been ever so delighted by her three perfect princesses.”
Robert knit his brow and paused, his fingers halfway through her hair. “I thought there were four of you.”
She snorted. “Precisely. I have never been one of them, and Mother has never hidden her disdain for me. Amaryllis, Pandora, and Ophelia are beautiful. Amaryllis has Papa’s red hair and a pleasing singing voice. Pandora and Ophelia are perfect English roses—blonde and blue-eyed and well-mannered. She groomed them into miniature likenesses of herself, certain that they would make splendid matches. And they did. Amaryllis is a viscountess now, while Pandora wed an earl. Ophelia is likely to be named The Incomparable during her Season and nab herself a titled and wealthy husband.”
The venom with which she spat the words was laced with a pain she couldn’t have intended for him to hear. He couldn’t imagine feeling like an outsider in one's own family. Even though his brothers had all lead short lives, there'd never been any question that they were all equal in the eyes of their parents. William had enjoyed the few perks of being the heir, but such was the nature of duty related to titles. In every way that counted, the Stanley boys had been treated the same by their parents.
“And what of you?” he prodded.
“Before my coming out, I was told I ought to be grateful I possessed a large dowry for it was the only thing I had with which to attract a husband.”
He could not mask his horror, his mouth falling open and his eyes widening as those words struck him like the most savage of blows.
What sort of mother said such things to her own daughter?
“Ophelia has always been the sweetest of us,” she said quickly, as if trying to gloss over the horrible memory. “When my mother, Amaryllis, and Pandora turned their backs on me, she treated me with kindness. She tried her best, she … she showed me pity when they gave me only contempt.”
He reached over her to the bedside table, where she’d placed the invitation and the primroses. Before leading him into the house, she had knelt to retrieve the blossoms. The action had made him smile, as he’d expected her to forget the flowers altogether, perhaps even stomping on them on her way through the garden.
“I am glad you had an ally of sorts,” he murmured.
While he spoke, he began slipping the flowers into her hair. The stems fit in the snarls of her curls and stayed in place. He smiled at the way the splash of yellow looked against her amber locks—as perfect as he’d known they would.
“She will not be one any longer,” she said, seeming oblivious to his actions. “When next I see her, the transformation from sweet, biddable girl, to catty, hateful witch will be complete.”
He paused in the act of tucking one blossom behind her ear. Her face gave not a hint to how she must feel about such a development. But he discerned the lingering hint of anger and sadness in her voice.
It broke his heart.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “She is young and does not know any better—only what she has learned under your mother’s tutelage. I hope once she has gone out into the world and learned more about the people in it, more about herself, she will come to see how wrong the dowager is.”
She turned her head to look at him again, her incredulous expression at odds with the softness of her unbound hair and the flowers adorning it.
“Are you always so optimistic?”
The disbelief in her voice made him laugh. “I suppose so. There are enough people in this world always looking to see the worst in others, or tear them down. I much prefer to find the bright side of things wherever I can. Sometimes, when life becomes difficult I find it is the only way to survive.”
She stared at him as if he spoke ancient Greek—as if she couldn’t understand such a notion. Robert was coming to see that she’d survived by going in the opposite direction. Her hard and brittle shell had protected her, and she continued using it as a shield against the world. She did not know any other way.
“I appreciate the sentiment, but forgive me if I am not so idealistic. My mother has made it clear she will never forgive me for embarrassing our family. When Bertram’s father paid her for our silence, I was expected to keep my head down and do my best to avoid bringing more shame onto our good name. It could ruin Ophelia’s prospects, you see, and that was more important than anything that had happened to me.”
His stomach lurched as he imagined Cassandra, young and frightened, hurt in a way he could never fathom. The thought of her having no one to turn to, no one who’d cared to seek justice on her behalf …
“Cass …”
“Mother will never let her forget that I was almost the ruin of our family. To show me any sort of consideration would cause Ophelia to fall out of her favor, and in the end no daughter wants that.”
His throat constricted, the words to comfort her sitting on the edge of his thickened tongue. Even if he could say what he wanted, would she wish to hear it? She’d likely tell him to keep his platitudes to himself, and she would be well within her rights. What could he say to make any of it better?
Instead, he cupped her chin, tilting her toward him. Letting his finger trail over her jaw, he sought her mouth. She raised her head to meet him, taking control of the kiss before it even began, clamping her mouth over his with voracious intent. He surrendered to her, giving what he could without words.
She fell back into her pillow, once again avoiding his gaze.
He returned to his side of the bed, but never stopped staring at her, waiting for her to give him what she decided he was worthy of. Cassandra did not trust easily; that much had been made clear. That she’d even said this much was more than he could have wished for.
