by Anna Edwards
“Come here,” I order Victoria — now that we’re alone.
“Hell no.” She takes a step farther away.
“Come here,” I order again. This time with a little bit more force.
“Are you trying it on with all of us? I bet I was a big disappointment, seeing that you had to give to me rather than receive.”
My lip lifts into a smirk again.
“You really are a freak. My god, you’re actually enjoying this.” She steps forward, this time, at a rapid pace and makes to go around me. I stand fully in the doorway, filling it with my muscular frame.
“You aren’t going anywhere.”
“I’m getting the hell away from you, and when I get out of here, I’m getting tested for STDs. You’re probably a walking infection. Now, let me pass.”
“You’d rather die than have me touch you again?”
“Yes.” She makes a charge for me to try and get me to move out of the way. As she bounces off my taut body, I can see that she hurts herself more than she hurts me. “Get out of my fucking way.”
“I didn’t call her name, when I came.”
She throws her hands up in the air.
“I don’t want to hear this. Who you stick your dick into isn’t my concern. As long as you keep that thing away from me, I’m happy.”
“I mouthed yours because I was drunk — completely pissed off that you still weren't listening to me, and what I want you to do so that we can get through this together.”
“Great, you were pissed at me, so you stuck your dick down another woman’s throat. That really makes you a good candidate to be a husband. You say that you want to marry me, but what happens the first time we have an argument? You find the nearest willing hole and stick yourself in it.” She tries again to get past me. “Will you get out of my fucking way?” She balls her fist and punches me in the jaw. It hurts — it actually causes me pain. Damn, she’s strong for such a little thing.
“Argh,” she cries. “God damn it.” She grips her shoulder where, I know, the deepest of her wounds is. It must still be healing and was jolted when she hit me. “Please, just move.”
“You know, for hitting me, I’m within my rights to put you back in the bridle.”
Her eyes fill with worry, but her cheeks turn pink with fury.
“You have no rights over me. I’m a woman with my own thoughts and mind.”
“You’re my property — your father gave you to me,” I snarl back.
“I’m a human being. I’m no one’s property.”
“Wrong. Until this is over, you’re mine.”
“Jerk.” She tries one final time to get past me. I move out of the way at the last minute, and she goes flying by. I grab her arm and start to drag her down the hallway.
“Get off me.”
“No.”
“Nicholas, you’re hurting me.”
“I don’t care. For once, you’re going to listen to me.”
“What’s the point? You have nothing to say that would remotely interest me.”
I pull her up the stairs toward my room. She digs her heels in.
“I can’t go up there.”
“My father’s out. What I want to show you is up there.”
“Thank God, you didn’t say it was in your pants.”
“You back on my dick again? I can show you that as well, if you want,” I chuckle.
“Drop dead,” she snarls.
I tug hard, and she has no choice but to follow me. Reggie appears from one of the rooms.
“Help me,” Victoria screams.
I glare at him. He holds his hands up and steps back into the room.
“Jesus, all the men in this place are insane,” Victoria huffs.
We get to my room, and I pull her inside, shutting the door and locking it, to give us privacy, I put the key into my pocket.
“I’m not going to sleep with you or suck you if that’s why you’ve brought me up here. I mean it. You're holding me hostage and should be in prison.”
“I know.”
“What?”
“I should be in prison. I know you aren’t going to sleep with me, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to touch you whenever you’re in the same room as me. It doesn’t stop me from wanting to seek you out to talk to you. In fact, you being my possession makes it even harder because I know that I can’t have you.” Both of us are breathing rapidly. Our gasps for air fill the sudden silence in the room
“Don’t, please.” Victoria’s sweet tones finally break the tranquility.
“You're at an unfair disadvantage to the others. They seem to all know what happens next. You don’t. They’ve already learned, from their fathers, what is required to become my wife. I want you to learn what’s involved from a Duchess.”
“Nicholas, there’s no Duchess? Your mother, she’s dead because of this.” The word dead is stressed with such poignant emotion that I have a momentary regret that I’m about to share a part of my life with someone. I’ve hidden it away for so long, but this is Victoria. I’ve known since the moment I first saw her, staring intently at Van Gogh’s Poppies, that there was something different about her. I’ve known that she’d be the one to break this curse, hanging over our families. I step up to a chest of drawers in my room and remove my mother’s diary from it. I brought it up here a few days ago and have read the whole thing since.
“Here.”
“What’s this?”
She looks down at the silk cover as I push the book into her shaking hands.
“Open it and read a page.”
“I don’t think I should.”
I roll my eyes.
“For once, in the short time we’ve known each other, accept that I’m trying to do something to help you. Please read the damn diary,” I snap and plonk my weight down into a Queen Anne armchair. It’s my favorite and, thankfully, survived the attack I made on my room. I place my head in my hands. I can feel a migraine simmering at the edges of my temples. This isn’t how I thought my day would go. I hear the pages turn and look up. Victoria’s flicking through the diary.
“Is this…?” she hesitates, so I answer for her.
“My mother’s.”
“Nicholas, I can’t read this. It’s personal to you and William.”
“If it helps you in any way with what’s to come next, then it's more pertinent to you. William and I have read it. We’ve mourned our mother, and what she was forced to do.”
Victoria flicks through another few pages then gasps. I don’t know what has elicited such a reaction because the whole diary’s full of such moments.
She opens her mouth to speak and shuts it again.
“Read it.”
“Fire, sex, death. That’s what they called today. A death that’s what I had. I’ll never forget it, the pale face, the blood, the pain. Freedom, he was lucky. I wished for it. I pray for it nightly, but it never comes. I’m in hell and became one of them today. There’s no hope for me. I know he’ll choose me. I see it in the way he looks at me. I’ll have the last laugh, though. I’ll end this — I’ll conceive his son against my consent. The compassion that dies within me will be born into him. He’ll rule and rid the world of the society of Oakfield.”
When she finishes reading, Victoria closes the book and sits in her own chair.
“I don’t know if I can read anymore.”
“Take it with you. You need to prepare for tomorrow.”
“Death? Nicholas, please tell me it isn’t what I think it is?” she asks.
“I’m afraid toward the end my mother’s words get a little jumbled. She wasn't in her right frame of mind.”
“You’ve read this but still want me to go through with the trials?” I try to sense whether she’s angry at that fact or sad, but I can’t get a read on her.
“You should go.” I pull the key out of my pocket and throw it toward her.
“Talk to me.” She slides off the chair and picks the key up like it’s a security blanket,
but she’s still hesitant and doesn’t make a run for the door.
“I have to go through with this, Victoria. It’s the only way. I can’t let my mother die in vain. I can’t risk William. I know I sound like I’m completely selfish, but please, read that and understand my point of view.”
She looks down at the diary again.
“Thank you.”
I shut my eyes and listen to her put the key into the lock, turn it, and leave the room. I’m no good at verbalizing what I’m feeling, but hopefully my mother can, in some way, show Victoria why I need to finish this properly. I need to take the title from my father and make everything right for William, for my mother, and for all the other girls who’ve been harmed over two hundred years of the Oakfield society. Even if it's to the detriment of the woman I'm falling in love with.
“You know — I can look after myself — I’m not that incapable. I could walk out of this place tomorrow if I wanted to.” The hidden doorway behind me creaks, and William’s voice comes through it.
“Your sense of direction’s awful. You’ll get lost before you get to the end of the driveway,” I retort with a weary laugh.
“I’m not that bad. Better than you are. You got lost going out for Chinese once.”
“They’d changed premises.”
“No excuse.”
He slaps me on the shoulder, and I sit up.
“What are you doing here?”
“Keeping hidden but seeing things again. You gave her mum’s diary?” He pulls up a chair and sits next to me.
“I thought it might help her understand why I need to do things this way.”
He snorts, and his tics appear. He strokes the side of his face, nose, and taps twice on the arm of the chair.
“William?”
“Listen. I meant what I said. If I chose to walk out of here, I would be alright. You should fight for Victoria over me. I know she frustrates the hell out of you, but I’m not a fool. I see the growing feelings between you both, despite the situation.”
“Stop it,” I command and take his hand to stop him from tapping on the chair. He taps on my fingers instead. “This is stressing you. I made a promise to you and Mum. I'll always be there to help you and protect you from our father.”
“You were five years old. I don’t even remember the promise. I was three.”
“But I still made it,” I interrupt.
“What if you don’t succeed?”
“Then, I’ll die for the cause. I won’t allow another woman to go through this. Any children I may be lucky enough to have will choose their wives the conventional way. They'll go on dates and have their hearts’ broken.”
“Not heartbreak. Isn’t that what women have and demand ice cream for all the time?”
“It is, but I’d never say that to them.”
“Maybe I should ask Victoria if she want’s ice cream while she’s reading the diary?”
“William?” Because of his autism, my brother isn’t always aware of the social norms. “That’s not a good idea. You should probably stay away from her for a while. I’m not sure how she’ll react to the diary."
“Joke, brother. I miss you smiling at me. I know that she needs time alone. I don’t always understand everything, and I think that gazing at the stars is a lot easier than interacting with society. But, somehow, I have this built-in instinct when it comes to understanding women.”
“You need to share that with me, then.”
“You’re doing well. The diary was the right decision.”
There’s a knock on my door. William freezes.
“Who is it?”
“Mr. Hane, My Lord.”
My butler, thank god. “Come in.”
He enters and bows to us.
“Hello, Lord William.”
“Reggie.” My brother gets to his feet and, without an understanding of personal space, embraces my butler with warm affection.
“William put the man down.” I also get to my feet and pull my brother off.
“Sorry to disturb you. I’ve just had word from His Grace. He's to return home within the hour. He’s sent the call out to the society members. No more waiting. You’re all to be in the banqueting room for his return. The next trials will be happening then and there.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
VICTORIA
I can barely read the pages before me for the tears that stream down my face. This is a diary written by someone who’d been through what I’m going through, and that someone was Nicholas’ Mother. My heart breaks, but I’m still confused. If he’s read this, then why didn’t he put a stop to it? Is he that conflicted and controlled by his father that he can’t see what’s right and wrong. I want to go back to him and tell him that it’ll all be okay if he stops this now. The world won’t fall apart — he and William will be safe, but something sits uneasily in my stomach. I don’t know everything that’s going on here. I must read more. Firstly, though, I need to make a preference for the next trial, ‘fire, sex, death’. I read a small passage about it earlier but didn’t finish it when I came to my room. I wanted to start the diary from the beginning, so I got the whole picture. I flip to where I know it begins.
‘Fire, sex, and death is the hardest task of them all. It's designed to break the weakest of the women who haven’t already been destroyed by the punishment task. I was whipped, as you know dear diary, but nothing can prepare you for what you become when these tasks are handed out.’
My bedroom door flies open before I can read any further. I shove the diary under my pillow and glare at the Duke’s guards.
“I thought our rooms were sacred.”
“Maybe the others are, but yours is a whole different state of affairs. Get up, now.”
“Go to hell.” I ignore the twerp in the Duke’s livery. They don’t command me.
“Get up, or I'll drag you by the hair to complete the next task.” He menacingly steps forward.
“The next task?” Shit, I think. I haven’t had a chance to read all about it yet.
“Yes, it’s time. Get up.”
My legs suddenly feel as though they’re ten ton weights. The words, ‘fire, sex, death' are resonating through my head in a loop that sounds more imposing with every repeat. I manage to stand. I’m not sure how.
“I’m up.”
“Follow me, then,” the guard sneers and leads off. I want to run away into the hidden passages in the house and hope I can find a way out, but I know it will be futile. I’ll be dragged out and probably put in the bridle. I have solid plans to never go in there again, so I follow him. Halfway down the corridor, Amelia leaves her room. She looks like a ghost. She’s deathly pale and shaking like a leaf. Over the last few days, she’s had an air of calm about her, but not now.
“Amelia?” I grab her hand to check that she’s alright.
“No talking!” the guard shouts at me.
“Fuck you,” I respond, not caring about punishment.
“Are you alright?”
She opens her mouth to speak, but the guard grabs me by the hair, before she has a chance. He pulls me into the room where the Duke’s waiting and throws me to the floor in front of him.
“The bridle didn’t work. She’s disobeying the orders.”
“I’m checking my friend is alright,” I shout back at him and go to get up. I’m pushed back down.
“I like her at my feet. It’s a good position for someone with a mouth like hers. Actually, no, on her knees sucking my dick would be better.” The Duke laughs at his own comment. Nicholas comes into view, and he’s not smiling. He looks tired and angry.
“The girls are mine. You can't touch them without my permission.” He ignores me and vents his anger on his father instead.
“I shared your mother with my father and brother — why change tradition?” the Duke snarls back. I see Nicholas’ fist form into a ball, ready to lash out, and my stomach turns with overwhelming nausea, at the statement.
“It’s one tradition I c
an change without the society’s consent, and I’m changing it now. None of these girls are to be touched without my permission. If I find out that they have, then you'll be tried by the society for corrupting the succession process. Something I know you take seriously because of the consequences.” Nicholas is fuming, but it’s the first time I’ve seen him stand up to his father, and the Duke actually backs down. The older Cavendish huffs and steps away to the side.
“Let the next trial begin.” The Duke holds his hand up and thumps it down on a table.
“Ladies, my son has already determined the level of discipline that will be required to correct you, as his wife. Some needing more than others.” He looks at me, and I can’t help it — I sneer while getting to my feet. “As the Duchess of Oakfield, you'll have to set an example. You’ll be called upon to accompany the Duke to social functions, which will contain a variety of people, including royalty. You'll be expected to act with the highest decorum at all times. That’s not all that will be demanded of you, though. The society’s a business — we undertake certain deals on behalf of the members to further our ambitions. You'll be required to take part in this as much as necessary. This is the purpose of these three trials.” The Duke walks over to a sunken area in the hall. I’d noticed it before but never thought much of it. Four guards line up around the corners of the area, and the Duke nods. A cover’s pulled back, and a pit of burning coal is revealed.
“To join the society, one of the tasks is to walk over hot coals. It’s supposed to signify the age old tradition of being willing to do anything for advancement. One of you ladies will be given that task by Earl Lullington.” The Duke looks at his son and motions for him to step forward and take the stage. I notice for the first time how tired Nicholas seems. He has dark circles under his eyes, and the stubble lining his chiseled jaw is longer than usual. A few more days of growth, and he’ll have a somewhat unkempt beard. He still wears a suit, which is immaculately pressed, but somehow it doesn’t hang on his shoulders with the arrogant confidence that it would have done a few weeks ago. I want to go to him, embrace him, tell him it’ll be alright, and that the world isn’t really falling apart. But I know that it is, and I’ve already promised him that I wouldn’t lie. The sound of my name on Nicholas’ deep tones draws me from my reflection.
