Page 4 of When He Was Wicked
“They took long walks in the country, rides in his curricle, and she anticipated an offer. When no offer came forth, she daringly asked what his intentions were, for she was impatient to start living the life she’d long dreamed for herself. That was when he revealed he already had a wife…who lived in Scotland with his two children. The young lady was not being courted for marriage, but to…to be his mistress. She was disconcerted, for how could such a person be a gentleman. She lashed out in anger, calling him every vile name she knew and made to depart his presence, and…and the veil of her innocence was rent from her as he attacked her. Tou…touching her in places no one should ever touch. And treating her in ways no woman nor lady should ever endure. Her Aunt came upon them, and that is how she was spared greater pain and humiliation.”
The earl had clenched his hands into tight fists at his side. “And did her brother call him out and put a bullet through his black heart?”
She laughed, the sound hoarse with remembered pain. “No. That vile blackguard is the son of a duke. Somehow the young lady’s brother was convinced by the attacker’s story that she was the seducer and he fell under her seductive wiles. She was blamed entirely, and her brother and mother were ashamed of her.”
A harsh curse slipped from Lord Maschelly.
“She was no longer the bright, rosy debutante. With all her aspirations replaced by nightmares which started that very night, she eschewed society and hid away in the country, in Bedfordshire to be precise, for she had become timid, a mouse afraid of her own shadow. And they’ve lasted for four years, six months, and eleven days.”
Her voice cracked, and she took several steadying breaths to regain her composure. "That young lady, Lord Maschelly, is me. And five months ago, sometime after the nightmares had ceased, my isolation bore down on me. For I realized I still wanted everything I used to dream about. A loving husband, children to dote on, a charitable endeavor to support. I also missed my friends, attending balls, the theater, the opera, even the noise and smell of London I wished for. So, I ventured back into society…and the first night I saw my attacker at a ball I cast up my accounts. I thought I had moved past it, I thought I had healed, but I amstillafraid.”
“And why do you think learning to fight will suppress that fear?” he demanded gruffly, searching her veiled features intently.
“The night I saw him…last Friday to be precise, he touched me. It was so very fleeting, but I froze, then I trembled as ifill. Society does not know he is a snake who wears a charming mask.”
She took an involuntary step back at the sudden fierceness in his expression. And Verity wondered at his reaction. She could only hope her honesty would pierce his earlier icy refusal.
“I jerked away from him, and helaughed.” She closed her eyes briefly against the memory. “That night my dreams started again when I thought I’d left them in Bedfordshire. I do not want to feel helpless.”
His eyes narrowed, and his mouth tightened. “Why are you telling me all this, I am a stranger.”
“Because I desire your help, my lord. Please think on it.” Then she turned and walked away.
“You court scandal and ruin if you go ahead with such a scheme and society finds out. As you've said, you have a dream for a home and a family, are you willing to risk that?” His tone was measuring as if he was trying to determine her backbone.
She paused, and without shifting around, answered, “The freedom to rest without nightmares, to walk in the park without fearing what lurks behind the bushes, to attend a ball without dreading his presence, is wortheverything, my lord.”
CHAPTER THREE
Someone hurt me…
Those softly spoken words had lodged themselves deep in James’s heart and stirred something wicked and ugly inside of him. He felt oddly off balance. The temptation had been there to simply ask for her attacker’s name and avenge her honor. It hadn’t mattered that he did not know her identity, he despised those who hurt and abused people who should be protected. He had also never been the type to tolerate injustice. And somehow, she had uncovered that truth about him, trying to appeal to his softer side, except he had no softness in his heart.
Someone hurt me…
His unknown lady had departed a little over two hours ago, and her softly whispered words of pain had already started their haunting.Well hell, come on then…
He took a sip of whisky, his fourth glass since she’d left, and he was nowhere close to being inebriated. A state he would welcome for it would numb the pain in his ribs. Tonight’s fight had been rough, dirty, and unnecessary. He had enough wealth now to manage his estates comfortably, he did not need the fighting pits as he had a few years past. He’d stayed away for more than a year, and then he had stupidly allowed LadySusanna’s hysterical rejection to drive him to fighting, seeking its dark pleasure and the freedom of leaving the cares of the world behind.
Someone hurt me…
A hiss slipped from him as her soft entreaty rolled through him once again. It was nonsense, a lady wanting to fight. And he did not doubt her. There had been something wild and defiant in her expectations, even though her speech, carriage, and how she folded her damn hands screamed gentility. He admired her courage, but she was far too independent and bold. Thehaut mondehad no use for people that were different, especially in their women. A rigid adherence to their rules was the general expectation.
Though it was conceivable that there were young ladies who dared to step out from under the restrictions their families and society dictated. His veiled lady would not survive long amongst the wolves of society with a personality like hers. She would be judged and found wanting for her unique bravery. Even now if society should learn that the son of a duke had attacked her in such a violent, disgusting manner, it would be her that would be judged and cast aside. Very much like what her brother had done. Her brother also deserved a rapier through his misguided and selfish heart. No doubt his connection to a future duke had been more important than protecting his sister’s honor.
It was a wonder she’d had the courage to visit James in his home when she’d heard so much of his reputation.
I do not want to feel afraid.
And in that softly echoed statement, he'd felt a moment of affinity…a connection of sorts. There had been a time when he had been afraid of the older boys in the village who resented a future earl, pretending to be one of them—poor, hungry, and desperate for another life. James had been seven at the time, and those boys had been older by a few years. They'd attackedin droves, and he'd had no one to defend him. His father had abandoned him in his drunken grief and had deliberately set his only son to endure a harsh life without any of the privileges that came with being a future earl. James had learned very quickly how to fight and to hurt so he could have a measure of peace.
And it was that she wanted. Peace…to sleep and not have nightmares.
Who are you?The sudden need to know burned through him with alarming fierceness. What kind of lady was she?Brave. That answer was immediate. She exuded a fire and strength he had never seen in another woman, attested by her will to venture down such a dangerous and ruinous path. And the need to help her flamed through James. And perhaps he would take her offer to learn how to be the kind of man ladies of society required to be their husbands.
The yearning for such finer things, the acceptance into a world that he should have effortlessly belonged to blasted through him, yet something inside of him fiercely recoiled at bowing to any part of society’s ridiculous expectations.
A gentleman?
