“Father, it’s too soon,” Bernadette stammered. “You can’t make me. I can’t...”
“You have no choice in this matter. I have arranged it, and you will do your duty. It is expected of you. You’re the daughter of a baron. And this baron always keeps his word. I expect that you will carry out what I have arranged and not humiliate me.”
“Yes, Father,” Bernadette whispered. She felt tears spring to her eyes.
She gazed down at the carpet upon which he stood, his boot toes creating tiny imprints in the delicate silk fibers, much like his disregard for her emotions and the delicate fabric of her existence. She choked her tears back and stood. “I will go to my chamber...I beg to be excused,” she said tightly. She didn’t want to cry in front of him. She wasn’t going to let him have the power to make her cry.
“You will do exactly as I say. We are fortunate to be so honoured—you are lucky to have this choice.” His voice was firm and pompously contented at once.
She made a fist, the feeling of her nails digging into her palm the only thing convincing her that this wasn’t some wild dream. He truly sounded pleased. She walked to the door, then paused.
“Wait!” Bernadette held up her hand. She’d lost her daring to mention the letter, but now, she decided she had to, terrified or not. “I do have another choice. I can go somewhere else.”
“What?” Her father’s face darkened. Bernadette stepped back, feeling her heart thud with fear. His anger was terrifying to her; one of the strongest, darkest powers in her world.
“I have another choice,” she stammered, holding up the letter. It was like a sword, her one defense. “I have this letter. Aunt sent it.”
“Aunt who?” her father demanded, striding towards her as if he’d grab the letter. She gulped and stepped back.
“Aunt Rachel. She said...she said I can stay there. Be her companion. Keep her company and share her house and I could go tomorrow, if you let me,” she gabbled. Her father’s anger always reduced her to helpless sobs.
“No, you can’t!” Her father glared at her. “You’d truly be a companion to some minor provincial viscountess?” His throat worked with rage. “You know that estate is the poorest in England. You’d be laughed out of theTon.”
“Maybe that’s not a bad thing,” Bernadette whispered. She didn’t know where the courage had come from to say that, but her father’s eyes narrowed and he stalked towards her, making her turn the doorknob in haste.
“You dare to think you can flout me? That you can make a fool of me with Lockwood and the entire society?” he shouted. “Have you lost your wits?”
“I don’t know,” she replied. Her mind had almost stopped being able to think, her body shaking, her heart racing. No words came anymore, her brain numbed with sheer terror. “I don’t know. I don’t...”
“You will do as I say,” her father said angrily. “And you’ll one day thank me. You’ll be a countess. And you’ll be a member of even higher society than we are.”
Bernadette nodded. She was past reason.
“Yes, Father,” she whispered. There was no use in arguing, she could see that. No point in angering him—it was too frightening. All she could do was acquiesce. Perhaps another plan would come to her. It had to.
“Good.” He let out a breath, as if he believed her agreement. “Well, then. You can go now. I am sure you have a lot to take in.”
“Yes,” Bernadette answered, almost inaudibly.
He stood back for her, and she opened the door, hurrying down the hallway to her room. She shut the door and leaned against it, as if it could shut out the shock that she’d just experienced.
“Judy?” she called, thinking her maid might be in the room next door, where she kept her clothes. “Judy?
No answer came and Bernadette rang the bell to summon her. She needed someone’s counsel. She needed help.
Plans whirled through her mind. She would run to herfriend’s townhouse, and Viola’s family would smuggle her back to the countryside. She would hide somewhere in London, making her family reconsider. She would get a job as a governess under another name.
“Miss Bernadette?” Judy called, knocking lightly at the door.
“Judy! Please, come in,” Bernadette called out in reply.
Her maid entered, her slim face transforming into an expression of shock when she saw Bernadette’s horrified expression.
“What’s troubling you, Miss Bernadette?” she asked at once, taking her hand.
“It’s Father...” Bernadette told her, trying not to sob.
“Is he sick?” Judy asked, sounding surprised.
