Edith sighed and reached out to touch the girl’s cheek, bringing her attention up. “I’m quite certain that wherever she is, she misses you terribly.”
Molly gave her a very small smile. “Can we play a game, Edith? We’re almost at the village, and there are all sorts of hiding places. I can hide, and you find me.”
“It sounds lovely.” Edith got to her feet and helped her up, giving her a serious look. “Stay close, though. I’m not going to explain to your uncle how I lost you in a game.”
Molly agreed and took her hand, skipping alongside Edith as they moved further away from Merrifield down the worn grass path.
Edith smiled when Molly disengaged and began to twirl in the open space. There was something so vibrant about her, so full of life, and it was contagious. She was the sweetest girl, and clever beyond her years.
“I’ll hide first!” Molly cried, suddenly dashing towards the abandoned blacksmith’s shed.
Edith obediently turned her back, smirking to herself. “I’ll count to thirty, lass, and then I’ll be coming to get ye!”
“If you can find me!” came the laughing reply.
Commencing with her counting, Edith looked up into the cloud-dotted sky, smiling at the beautiful day. After the exquisite experience of the ball, dancing with Graham enough times to draw comment, sitting next to each other at dinner, brushing fingers and legs against each other, sleep was near impossible to come by. Dreams could not be better than the reality she had experienced.
Graham had spirited her away before the final dance of the evening, kissing her sweetly in the corridor, and holding her close. “We’re on the brink of something, Edith, if only we can catch it.”
Another long, slow kiss had finished the conversation, and they had danced together one final time.
She hadn’t seen him yet this morning, but Molly had told her they had breakfasted together, which made Edith smile.
He was so good to his niece. So good to all of them.
“Thirty!” Edith called out, turning around to face the shed.
She came closer, keeping her tread light, looking around the back of the building for possible alternative hiding places and finding none.
Molly was near the shed somewhere, if only Edith could find her.
There were only so many places she could be, considering the state of the place, and after only a few moments of looking, Edith surmised that the girl had come to the far side of the building, likely crouching in a cupboard on that side, or some such. Edith pressed her back to the building, grinning to herself. She would silently count to ten, then leap out with a cry that would startle Molly, whether she was inside a cupboard or not.
Feeling more like a child than she had in years, Edith grinned in breathless anticipation, then sprang around the corner with a roar and a grin.
It faded in a heartbeat.
Molly stood not far off, beside Sir Reginald, two large men standing by, restraining her. The men had their hands on the butts of guns, and one had a hand over Molly’s mouth. Her eyes were wide with terror, sending jolts of fear into Edith’s stomach, the urge to be sick clenching at her.
“Lady Edith,” Sir Reginald said with a smirk, his voice so sneering it made her skin crawl.
He looked her over very thoroughly, his eyes lingering in obvious places, and anyone alive would have felt filthy by the time he was done.
“What are you doing?” Edith hissed, clenching her fists. “Let her go.”
He clucked his tongue and shook his head, reaching out to touch the girl’s hair. “Not a chance.”
Molly struggled fiercely, and the men holding her clamped on harder. There was something menacing about the look in their eyes, in their manner, and there was obvious impatience with her. She was entirely expendable to all three of them.
“Dinnae struggle,” Edith told her firmly, trying her utmost to remain calm for her sake. “Dinnae fight them. Be still.”
She looked at Edith, her eyes filling with tears, but she nodded and went still.
“Playing with village children, Lady Edith?” Sir Reginald clicked his tongue in disapproval, shaking his head. “And during a house party? That is not very polite of you. How disrespectful to Lord Radcliffe, after all he has done for you.” He touched Molly’s hair again, smiling at her.
“Don’t touch her!” Edith spat, coming closer.
He gave her a hard look. “Do you think I have any interest in this child?” he replied, losing his false congeniality. “I could not care less. I only took her to convince you of the gravity of your situation.”
“My situation?” she asked, feeling her body grow cold at the look in his eyes.
He nodded once. “It is very simple. It has always been very simple, but you have chosen to complicate matters. You come with me back to London now, and this child is free to return to her village and parents.”
Realization dawned on Edith, rippling across her frozen skin with some measure of comfort.
Sir Reginald had no idea whose child he had taken, or of her identity at all. If he had, he would not have been so willing to part with her. Had he known who her family was, he would have devised a far more cunning plan.
And that, Edith could not have borne.
“What will you do with me?” she asked, unable to look at Molly, her mind reeling in an attempt to form some sort of plan.
The look in his eyes was so lewd it brought bile rising to Edith’s mouth. “That list is not suitable for a child’s ears, my dear.”
She shuddered and put a hand to her mouth, closing her eyes, forcing herself to breathe.
Every threat, every touch, every image he had painted in her mind suddenly revisited her en masse, causing her to sway almost unsteadily. How could she submit to him? How?
How could she not, with what was at stake?
“Come, come, Lady Edith, we haven’t all day.”
She opened her eyes and looked back at him in disgust. “You swear to me that she will be free? No repercussions?”
He nodded. “None, unless you raise an alarm about this. She is free to go as free as she came. But if you scream, if you alert anyone to what you are about, we will come back for her.”
Molly whimpered, and the sound reverberated in Edith’s soul. She looked at her for a long moment, knowing what she was going to do, but utterly loathe to submit to his will. “May I have time to pack my things and say my farewells?” she asked him, her attention still on Molly.
Sir Reginald snorted in derision. “And have you leave word for Lord Radcliffe to hunt you down? I think not. I’d rather let him stew in wondering where you went, assuming he cares, and your dear, devoted friends thinking the worst. No, your things can be sent for. We leave right this moment or not at all.”
Edith closed her eyes again and took a moment to breathe again.
To have one final moment of peace. To resign herself to her fate.
Then she met his cold, sneering eyes again. “Very well,” she said clearly, without any hint of her natural brogue. “I consent.”
Molly cried out behind her captors’ hands.
“Hush!” Sir Reginald snapped as he turned to her. “I’ve had quite enough of you.”
“Sir Reginald!” Edith said immediately, throwing as much firmness and coldness into her tone as she could, taking two steps forward.
He and his men looked at her in surprise.
“Leave that child alone,” she ground out, her jaw tight. “I have agreed to your terms, now let her go. I willna condone you treating her thus.”
He sneered at her, mocking laughter oozing from him. “You are in no condition to dictate anything.”
Edith folded her arms and firmed her stance. “Perhaps not, but I can and will make your life a living hell from this moment on if you dinnae do as I say.”
His expression darkened, “I own you, you little baggage!”
“Then I have nothing to lose, ye ken?” she replied, his words frightening her more than she could
show.
He owned her.
At long last, she had become nothing more than a possession.
He muttered something under his breath and nodded at his men, who released Molly. She ran at Edith and flung her arms around her, quivering against her legs. Edith sank to her level and pulled her close.
“It’s all right, wee one,” she whispered, intentionally keeping her name from being said. The more she could save her, the better.
“Don’t go with them,” she pleaded tearfully. “I’m scared.”
Edith rubbed her back soothingly. “I have to, sweetheart.”
She pulled back and looked at Edith, rubbing the tears from her face. “What do I tell… my papa?” Her eyes widened at the lie, her tone uncertain. “You were… You were supposed to bring me home.”
Edith glanced over at Sir Reginald, who gave her a look of ultimate warning.
“Tell your papa that I was called away urgently, and my cousin and I must return home at once.” Edith smiled as gently as she could. “Teaghlach, lass. Remember?”
Molly blinked once, then nodded. “I remember, Lady Edith. Family.”
Edith could have kissed her for translating so clearly. Hopefully, it would keep Sir Reginald from suspecting any sort of secret word.
Which, of course, she had intended it to be at the moment, but not one that would anger him.
She glanced over at him with some trepidation, most of it for effect.
Sir Reginald nodded and gave a signal to his men, who departed.
“Can you be brave, darling?” she whispered to Molly, taking her hands. “Can you do that?”
She nodded, though her lips trembled.
Edith smiled and kissed her hands. “Go on, then. Run home.”
Molly gave her one last, fierce hug, and then darted off without looking back.
Edith watched her go, tears welling and falling in one smooth motion. Her heart was breaking into a million pieces within her, the shards falling down around her with icy pangs. She couldn’t look after her, and she could not look at Sir Reginald. She could only stay in her place, near the ground, and wish to God that the earth might swallow her whole.
Molly was safe and would be safe. That was the most important thing.
The less important things, however…
Edith gagged and choked on the still rising tears, her fingers clawing at the ground.
“Sentimental, my dear.” Sir Reginald spat in disgust before chuckling with some secret, dark humor. “How very Scottish of you to treat village children as if they were your equals. It’s no wonder you haven’t attained anything in your life. Not even marriage to my cousin could have brought you up. No matter. Your station will change soon enough.”
He seized her arm and hauled her to her feet.
“What do ye mean?” she asked as she started moving with him, still not looking at him.
His hands started wandering over her backside as he chuckled. “You are to be my mistress, Lady Edith. Did you doubt that was my ultimate plan?”
“My, my,” she murmured morosely, “ye must want me dreadfully to fight so hard to get me.”
That earned her a vicious blow across her face, sending her stumbling back to the ground. “Want you?” he all but screamed. “I’ve damn near lost my taste for the sight of you. You’re not worth the trouble.”
He hauled her to her feet again, taking her chin in hand hard, shaking her, his eyes narrowing. “Or perhaps you are. Time will tell just what that spirit of yours, that willfulness, will bring to me. But make no mistake, Lady Edith, you are mine. You belong to me. And no one gets to take what belongs to me.” He kissed her then, harsh and rough, biting down on her lip without mercy. His hand moved to her back, then shoved her towards the carriage, nearly causing her to stumble again.
“So, what are we to do, then?” Edith asked with a murderous glance back at him, wiping at the blood at her mouth, fighting the urge to spit as her tears of despair turned to tears of fury.
His smile curved as he followed her. “The whole world will know that you have become my mistress.” He quirked his brow with insinuation. “Suggestion is a powerful tool. You will be at my beck and call, whenever I decide I want a piece of rough Scottish blood.” He laughed to himself, either at the prospect, or finding amusement in something Edith did not understand. “I am half tempted to move you into my London house, but I hardly think my wife would approve.”
“You have a wife?” she asked, almost stumbling as she tried to enter the carriage.
He forced her inside, his hands yet again where they ought not to be. “My business, not yours.”
“Am I to be a prisoner in my own home?” She sat in the furthest corner of the carriage she could manage, wondering with horror what he meant for her. What she was to do? How she was to act?
What would happen?
“Yes,” he said simply as he followed her into the coach, happily not moving closer to her. “My men will watch you, accompany you, and are full well free to touch you as they please. But the best part of you is for me alone.” He smiled as if that would be of some comfort to her.
Edith shuddered and looked out of the window as the carriage moved.
“Your so-called friends will not be permitted to see you,” he went on. “And I will know if you defy me. Things will be far worse for you if that is the case. I will call on you at any hour I wish, stay as long as I like, and do as I will. Your funds will be cut off entirely, and only what I give you when I am generous will be yours.”
“That will be a great change,” Edith muttered. “Imagine not having funds.”
Sir Reginald kicked her sharply across the shins. “When I come to call, you will wear what I direct and only that. You will have no guests and no change in your servants. Your own servants may stay, but they also belong to me. Nothing will go on in that house without my saying so. And if your filthy Scottish lover comes around? I will have him beaten to within an inch of his life for daring to touch what is mine.”
Edith smiled faintly to herself, tears still slowly falling. “I would dearly love to see ye try,” she whispered.
Sir Reginald somehow didn’t catch the words, staring as he was out of his own window now.
Edith wiped at her still-bleeding lip, closing her eyes on fresh tears.
Oh, Graham…
She clasped onto the memory of every dance the night before, every moment in his arms, knowing she would never have another like them in her life.
It would be enough. She longed for more, ached deeply for it, but here at the end, she knew it was enough. More than that, it was hers forever.
Not even Sir Reginald could take it from her.
Chapter Twenty
There is nothing so bad as waiting when one would rather do anything else.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 29 May 1817
Agony was a word upon which Graham had been pleased to dwell for the past several days. Even the sound of it was one that seemed to be pulled from the darkest depths of one’s soul. It should have been a more reverent word. Always spoken in a hushed tone. Bearing the weight of its burden at all times. Never used in vain.
Agony was all-encompassing.
He thought he’d known agony, but he was wrong. He had known grief; he had known pain; he had known sorrow, anger, hopelessness, and numbness.
He had not known agony.
Not until now.
For as long as he lived, he would never forget the moment Molly had torn into his study and told him that Edith had gone off with her cousin. A man with cruel eyes and a slender frame, travelling with two larger men who had held Molly while they waited for Edith. That Edith had sent Molly home with one word.
Family.
The weasel was part of her former family by marriage, but even without that word, Graham would have known who had taken her just by Molly’s description and the manner by which the event had taken place. That was not a family.
They were a family — Graham, Molly, and
now Edith. There were no legal ties that bound Edith to them, but there were cords of love winding around them all and bringing them together.
She had sacrificed herself for family.
And Graham could only sit here.
Edith was gone. In danger, undoubtedly, and there was no telling what she could be enduring now.
And he was here.
He didn’t have a choice. There was nothing he could do in London that would solve the issue. Or so Henshaw, Ingram, Sterling, and the others had told him when he had gathered them all to discuss it.
He’d hotly reminded them that he could storm her house and be married to her in less than a day, thus giving her legal protection from the weasel.
Ingram, having spent too long looking at the finer details of the law lately, was able to point out that such an act might stop the abuse, but would not get Sir Reginald out of her life.
Nor would it help Graham’s ward when her time to come out eventually came. If her guardian was married to a woman whose reputation was so particularly smeared by ruin, Molly would never be accepted in Society.
Graham had been about to retort that he didn’t care when the next words stopped him.
“…which is why we have to ruin him first.”
An intriguing notion, which was why the group of them had spent the rest of the night and many of the early morning hours discussing their options and resources. Tony had suggested they bring Andrews into the discussion, but no one thought he needed to be brought in at that time.
He had only just come back from assignment, and he and Amelia were never seen apart.
But eventually, they had brought him in, and Graham was ever so grateful they had. The man’s mind was beyond impressive, and his strategic agility was unmatched by anyone of Graham’s acquaintance. He’d left almost immediately, Amelia accompanying him, to return to London to start working on the matter, as well as letting Amelia, and by extension, her mother, begin their work on the plans for the wedding.
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