Page 62 of Love in the Time of Scandal
“Then why does he still do it?” This time she reached for him. “You’re a grown man, independent and able. Why can’t you? Why can’t Samantha? I wager Gray would be happy to defy him, but you and Samantha—”
“Stop,” he said in a low voice.
“I know he’s not a kind father, and never was,” she barreled onward. “I know a child can’t easily defy his father. But you’re no longer a boy to be punished for impertinence. What can he do to you now? Why do you and Samantha both still live in fear of him?”
“Who told you that?”
She waved one hand impatiently. “Sebastian told Abby, and she told me. And more potently, Samantha’s reaction proclaimed it clearly. If my father had behaved that way, I would have fled at the first opportunity and never looked back, let alone received him in my house.”
“Very easy to say when your father treated you with particular kindness and indulgence.”
Penelope snorted. “He punished me—”
“It was not the same,” he cut in savagely. “Just... don’t presume you know what it was like for us.”
Her face changed, becoming more frustrated than indignant. “Then tell me! I keep trying to understand you, and you never let down your guard. We are married! Why must you keep so many secrets from me?”
“My secrets.” He threw up his hands. “I’ve no idea what you want me to tell you.”
His wife stared at him for a long moment. “The simple truth would suffice.” She took a deep breath. “I’m going to rejoin the guests. If you have any other critical remarks on my actions or inexplicable commands for me to follow, I will hear them tomorrow morning.”
He caught her arm when she started past him. “Ihavetold you. You don’t want to hear it. You want me to fall on my knees in abject regret because I didn’t stand by Sebastian, or apologize for things beyond my control.”
“No,” she protested, “I want to know why your father exerts such control over you that you dare not contradict a word he says!”
“Because he can,” he snarled. He’d thought it would be better for Penelope not to know, but now she had to know, before she unwittingly brought the earl’s wrath down on herself. The look in Stratford’s eyes as he studied Penelope had put a chill in Benedict’s heart. “He always has. It didn’t matter what the offense was; if we defied him, we were punished, harshly. No matter is beneath his notice. My mother dares not order so much as a new bonnet without his approval. Elizabeth once went riding without express permission, and he sold her horse; she was forbidden to ride again except in public. One must keep up appearances whenever society might be watching, but the rest of the time...” He shook his head. “Samantha was nearly married off to a dangerous lunatic because she stole those guineas from him.” He smiled humorlessly at her wide-eyed start. “You wanted to know what he did to Samantha? He had a marriage contract with the Marquess of Dorre’s middle son—the mad, dangerous one—drawn up, ready to be signed, before Gray’s father, the Duke of Rowland, interceded on his behalf. Samantha’s pleas meant nothing to him, nor did Gray’s. I still don’t know what Rowland said to persuade Father to allow it, but I would be astonished if he didn’t threaten some awful reprisal—and even then my father cut Samantha’s dowry almost to nothing.”
Penelope searched his face for a moment. “What did he do to you?”
“Anything he pleased.”
“How bad?” she whispered.
Benedict sighed. “Whippings. Scathing lectures. Confinement to my room with only bread and water.” He released her and ran his hands over his face. “Suspension of allowance. Words with my superior officers. He once canceled my lodgings at university so I’d have to live in the charity ward for a term. He made me sack servants who had been with the family for years. When I returned the guineas Samantha took, he told me to leave his house, and when I told him I was married—without his permission and blessing—he banned me from the grounds and forbade me to visit my mother.”
“But now he can’t do anything to you,” she said slowly. “Because...”
“Because I married you.” He touched her face, unspeakably relieved when she let him. It gave him a jolt to realize that he’d feared she would recoil in disgust or horror.
Her eyes were shadowed. “But you would have preferred Abby or Frances Lockwood.”
“No,” he murmured, drawing her closer. “I would have regretted it to the end of my days.”
“Both of them would have been deferential and polite to your father.”
“Neither of them would have made me want to give a huzzah like you did tonight.”
She raised her brows. “When was that?”
“When you told him you look forward to seeing him tomorrow.” He brushed his lips against her. “No—I think it was when you said you wouldn’t let him bully you.” He slid his arm around her waist. “Actually, I think it might be right this moment...”
She framed his face in her hands. “He won’t bully either of us. Promise me.”
He had endured the earl’s tyrannical demands his entire life, not only for his own actions but to spare his mother and sisters. None of them had ever told him to stand up to Stratford. On the contrary, they had all begged him at various times not to provoke his father’s temper. Penelope didn’t know the earl, but that left her unafraid of him. Even though he knew a little fear could be a good thing when it came to Stratford, her undaunted spirit brought a smile to his face. “I promise.”
Chapter 21
Despite Benedict’s fervent hopes, his father called on them the next day.
