Further Than Passion

by Cheryl Holt

  Kate assessed Melanie, wondering how she'd earned such enmity, and for once, she was out of patience and beyond circumspection. "Shut up, Melanie."

  Melanie leapt to her feet. "How dare you speak to me so rudely! I'll advise Mother of what you said. She'll have you whipped!"

  "I'm certain she'll be eager to proceed."

  Kate strode out, refusing to be distracted by Melanie's tantrum. All the way down the hall, Melanie's yelling was discernable. A loud thud reverberated from her having thrown something at the wall, but Kate kept walking.

  The stairs were an intolerable gauntlet, that went on forever. At the bottom, disaster awaited, so she took each step slowly, feeling as if she were marching to the gallows.

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  The butler lurked at the entrance to the library, briskly knocking to announce her arrival. He flashed a glare of such scorn and rebuke that she had no doubt he'd been eavesdropping.

  What had he heard? She yearned to have the floor open and swallow her whole!

  Knees quaking, but head high, she strolled past him and into the opulent, masculine space. Marcus was behind his desk, Regina in the chair opposite. Neither stood, and Marcus wouldn't look at her.

  Coward! She hurled the mental reprimand toward him.

  She crossed to them, but she wasn't invited to sit, making it plain how far they were separated from her by rank and station. This was not a friendly chat. She was in for castigation, and punishment would follow.

  There were numerous objects scattered on the desktop, and she studied them, her face carefully blank as she tried to deduce what they signified.

  Regina ended her speculation.

  "I found these items hidden in your room, and I've shown them to Lord Stamford."

  It was the last attack she'd anticipated, and her eyes widened with shock and dismay, so she appeared guilty before they'd even begun.

  She forced herself to remain calm. "Are you calling me a thief?"

  Regina rose, a hulking, angry menace, who towered over Kate in both size and stature. "We are Lady Pamela's guests, and you've shamed our family. I demand that you apologize for your larceny, and that you swear to Lord Stamford you'll not disgrace yourself again, so long as you reside here."

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  "I've never seen any of those things before," she attempted to claim.

  Regina peered at Marcus and shrugged. "Have I convinced you? She's mad."

  Marcus finally located the courage to meet her gaze, and his disappointment was so evident that she felt as if he was stabbing her with it. "Kate," he gently admonished, "don't make this worse than it already is. Just admit what you've done, so we can move on."

  A potent fury surged through her. Regina had told him she was unbalanced, that she was a thief, and without any consideration, he'd believed Regina's lies.

  Kate wanted to weep, to shout and rail. Didn't he know her, at all?

  He was so willing to think badly of her, to cast her aside, to have Regina as his partner, so Kate wasn't about to demean herself by begging him to have faith in her. If he'd pulled out a pistol and shot her dead, it would have been so much more bearable than this ... this ... betrayal.

  "I have nothing to say," she replied, sick at heart and wounded to her very core.

  As if Kate were the heaviest burden in the world, Regina sighed, feigning great concern. "I'll dispatch her to Doncaster at once, and I'll carry through with the plans we discussed."

  "Good." He nodded, and Kate's ire flared anew.

  They'd discussed her, had they? They'd parleyed and nattered about her as if she were a prized cow off to slaughter, or an African slave in bondage.

  "I'll be excited to hear all about it," she chided. "I'm absolutely on pins and needles."

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  "It's for the best, Kate," he insisted.

  "Oh, I'm sure it is," she bitterly retorted.

  "And I hope you'll return the money you took."

  "What?"

  'To avoid a scandal, Regina has agreed to replace the funds in your sister's trust, but I'd like to prevail upon you to restore them of your own accord."

  Regina was alleging that she'd pilfered Selena's trust? How could Marcus imply that she would behave so despicably? She couldn't steal from her own sister! She was so lacking in a criminal state of mind, that if such a dastardly deed had occurred to her, she'd have had no idea how to implement it!

  She stared him down.

  He was cool and composed, imperturbable, and the love she'd had for him instantly metamorphosed into a white-hot hatred so intense that it nearly blew her down with its severity.

  "I'd give it back," she sarcastically declared, "but she has so much, while I have so little. Why should I?"

  Distraught over her flip response, he gaped at her, unable to fathom how he could have failed to detect her felonious disposition. She yearned to shake him, to slap away his smug, calculated expression, to hit him and hit him, over and over again, until he fell to the floor in a bloody heap.

  Regina clucked and tutted over Kate's remark. "Honestly, Kate," she scolded, "I expected better from you."

  "Did you?" Kate rejoined. "Did you really?" She trembled with such malevolence and hostility that Regina flinched and shifted out of range.

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  Regina gestured to Marcus. "Tell her the rest."

  Kate waited, then waited some more, but he couldn't spit it out. He blushed, embarrassed by whatever he was about to recount.

  "Well?" Kate queried, and still, he couldn't answer.

  Regina butted in. "Your affair with him has been exposed."

  - "So?" Kate sneered. "As you're neither my mother nor my guardian and I am fully of age, I don't see how it's any of your business."

  "You live in my home"—Regina sputtered with rage—"you eat the food at my table, and you maintain it's not my business if you act like a harlot?" She scowled to Marcus. "Before she met you, she was an innocent. She had no background to help her defend against male duplicity."

  "I'm aware of that fact," he assented uneasily.

  "You've had innumerable experiences with seduction, haven't you, Stamford?"

  "I suppose."

  "Don't be so modest. Kate is hardly the first you've debauched. You enjoy quite a reputation as a libertine and scoundrel."

  "I've never been a saint," he admitted.

  "It's well known that you regularly lure women into every manner of dissolution. Why ... you practically regard it as a challenge to corrupt them."

  "I wouldn't go that far."

  "A man will pretend fondness, won't he, Stamford, in order to coax a female to immorality?"

  "It happens all the time."

  "You're no different from any other, are you?"

  "Probably not," he allowed.

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  "I'm positive Kate assumes you're in love with her. Wouldn't you suspect the same?"

  "It's possible."

  "Have you ever loved her?"

  He glanced down. "No."

  "Do you love her now?"

  "No," he repeated, his voice barely a whisper.

  "She likely presumes that you have honorable intentions toward her. She might even imagine that you'd marry her. Would you?"

  "It would be the worst folly ever."

  Regina paused, letting his disavowal fester, ensuring that the momentous impact was sufficiently devastating. Kate had never been more humiliated. She wanted to die, wanted to curl up in a ball and cease to be.

  "Did you hear him, Kate?" Regina ultimately asked. "He doesn't love you. He never loved you."

  "Yes, I heard him, Regina."

  She'd always understood that Marcus was isolated and solitary, that he deliberately kept himself separate from others, but she'd never recognized him to be cruel. Why would he feel the need to participate in her crucifixion?

  When had he become Regina's puppet? Why had he acquiesced in such brutality? He'd drowned whatever spark of affection she'd harbored for h
im. Must he grind her into the rug until there was nothing left of the person she once was?

  "I believe we've gotten her attention," Regina snarled to Marcus, "so tell her the rest of it, or I will!"

  He continued to study the floor. "I'm marrying Melanie, Kate. One week from today. It's been arranged."

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  There was no more horrid, or more painful, comment he could have made, and though she struggled to sustain her equanimity, she couldn't stop the single tear that plopped down her cheek.

  "Like gravitates to like, Kate," Regina crowed. "How foolish of you to reach so far above your station."

  Kate felt as if the death knell had sounded, his words killing any soft portion of her that had ever existed.

  She glared at him, begging him to look at her, but he wouldn't. Was he mortified? Sorry? She snorted with disgust. Most likely, he was simply dreading the hideous encounter and desperate for it to be over, yet she dawdled, pathetically wishing that he'd smile at her a final time.

  "Will that be all?" she quietly inquired.

  "Yes," Regina replied, "that will be all. Proceed to my bedchamber and wait for me. I'll be up in a few minutes."

  Numb and ill, Kate trudged to the door and was about to exit when Marcus called to her back.

  "Kate!" he implored, her name wrenched from his lips.

  She halted and frowned at him over her shoulder. "What?"

  "I hope you'll be happy in your new situation. I really do. Good luck, and all the best to you."

  She had no idea about what he was talking. He appeared sincere, yet terribly sad. It almost seemed as if he was regretting what he'd just done, but why would he?

  As Regina had so bluntly indicated, he'd merely drifted to his own kind. He inhabited a sphere that used to be hers, but it wasn't any longer, and he'd picked

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  someone of his own class, someone appropriate and fitting to be the wife of an earl.

  Why should she be surprised? Why should she be crushed? Why should she feel as if her broken heart might quit beating?

  "Go to hell, Lord Stamford."

  She spun on her heel and walked out.

  17

  Regina burst into her bedchamber, her rage so intense that not even her sense of triumph could dampen her dark surge of anger.

  Kate was lucky they were in town and surrounded by so many others. If they'd been in the country, if they'd been alone, Regina might have been driven to commit murder.

  Kate was perched on a chair, her meager belongings packed, her portmanteau at her feet. She'd donned her cloak and was ready to depart. Pale as a marble statue, she looked icy, frozen, detached from reality, and so mentally distant that Regina wondered if her mind hadn't snapped.

  Melanie hovered beside her, flitting around like an irritating gnat.

  "What's Kate done, Mother?" Melanie inquired. "She won't tell me."

  Regina ignored the question and retrieved her walking stick from the wardrobe; then she went to Kate, halting in front of her.

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  "Stand up," she ordered, and Kate rose, exuding a belligerence and lack of remorse that enraged Regina further. "Apprise Melanie of your perfidy. I would have her learn of this betrayal from your own treacherous lips."

  "I've been having an affair with Lord Stamford. I'm being sent home."

  "What do you mean?" Melanie queried.

  Melanie was too naive to grasp the implications, so Regina explained, "She's been sneaking into his bed at night, entertaining him as a prostitute would."

  Melanie gasped. "Deny it, Kate."

  Kate was mutinously silent, so Regina continued. "We've been in a dither over why Stamford wouldn't court you, but he was occupied, slaking his manly lust with her. She has the morals of an alley cat, just like her mother."

  Melanie bristled. "After all our kindnesses toward you!"

  "She fancied him to be in love with her. With her! Can you believe it?"

  "Don't say so, Mother. I can't bear it."

  "He liked her more than you; he wanted her more than you. Her! The daughter of a whore."

  "How dare you!" Melanie seethed.

  "Harlot!" Regina hissed.

  She raised her cane and cracked it across Kate's face. Kate hadn't expected the blow, so she was unprepared. The rod smacked against bone, and she crumpled to the floor, a whimpering ball of shocked agony.

  Regina brought it down, over and over, whipping it across Kate's shoulders, buttocks, and legs, reveling in how each strike landed with precision. To her credit,

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  Kate didn't resist the beating, but stoically accepted the punishment as her due. Regina kept on, until her arm was tired, until she was perspiring from the effort. In disgust, she stepped away and tossed the cane on the rug. Kate remained huddled on the floor, too stunned to move.

  "You can't stop now," Melanie complained. "She has to pay for how badly she's behaved."

  "She'll pay forever," Regina sneered.

  "What will happen to her?"

  "She's about to disappear, so she won't be back to plague us."

  "Are you positive?"

  "Trust me: She shan't return." Regina straightened her hair, her gown. "I don't want your brother to know about this. He can't have a chance to intervene. Don't tell him."

  "As if I would," Melanie huffed. "Get her out of here. I'm sickened by the sight of her."

  Regina fetched her coat and hat as she advised Melanie, "I've come to an agreement with Stamford."

  "About what?"

  "He's decided to have you, after all. The wedding is a week from today. In London."

  Melanie was astonished and alarmed. "You can't be serious."

  "I was never more so."

  "When will he propose?"

  "Propose?"

  "Yes. When will he ask for my hand?"

  Girls—with their foolish, romantic notions! "He's a busy man. He doesn't have time for such folderol."

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  "But I’ve been planning on it!" she griped. "I've selected the dress I'll wear for the occasion and everything. I'll just die if he doesn't!"

  After so many trying hours, Regina was in no mood for Melanie's whining. She pulled herself up to her full height. "You'll marry him, and you'll be happy about it."

  Defiantly, Melanie contended, "If he doesn't propose, I won't go through with it. You'll never make me. Never in a thousand years!"

  Regina was still roiling from the thrashing she'd administered, and briefly, she considered using the cane on Melanie. Where had the child located the nerve to be so rebellious?

  "We'll see,” Regina threatened, but took no action. In her current state, she couldn't predict of what she might be capable.

  She spun away and grabbed Kate by the arm, hauling her to her feet. She was battered and bruised, a cut oozing on her cheek, and she sucked in a tortured breath.

  Good! Perhaps her ribs were broken.

  "We're leaving the house," Regina notified her. "Will you walk out on your own, or shall I drag you like the rubbish you are?"

  “I’ll walk," Kate mumbled.

  "We'll utilize the rear stairs. You'll acknowledge no one; you'll talk to no one. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, I understand."

  Regina started out, aggravated by Kate's slow and unsteady strides. She lugged her along, wanting only to be finished with the entire sordid business.

  "When will you be back?" Melanie demanded as they trudged into the hall.

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  "Later," Regina replied. "I have many tasks to perform before this debacle is concluded."

  She ushered Kate down and out to the mews, thankfully not encountering anyone. The hack she'd hired was ready, the driver in the box and awaiting directions. They climbed in and were off without incident.

  As they traveled toward their destination, Regina was relieved that Kate was quiet. After all, about what had they
to chat?

  The carriage rumbled to a halt, but Kate didn't indicate that the cessation had registered, and Regina commanded, "Get out."

  "Where are we?" she was cogent enough to question.

  "I've dropped you at your sister's, which is more than you deserve. I should have thrown you into the gutter to fend for yourself." She opened the door and pitched Kate's bag into the street. "Don't ever contact us. Don't write; don't inquire; don't return to Don-caster. If you dare, you'll be sorry."

  Kate dawdled for such a lengthy interval that Regina wondered if she'd have to physically push her out. Ultimately, she stirred and queried, "Why have you always hated me? What did I ever do to you?"

  "I don't hate you," Regina declared. "I don't care about you, at all. You're nothing to me. You never have been. Now be off—before I take a stick to you again."

  Kate stumbled out, groaning as her muscles protested. Regina knocked on the roof, signaling the driver to proceed. In a matter of seconds, she was away, and she peeked out, catching a glimpse of Kate, collapsed on her sister's stoop.

  "Whore!" Regina muttered.

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  She checked her timepiece, glad to note that she'd be gone when the solicitor's men rolled up behind her.

  ******************

  Selena rushed out, terrified by the frightened summons of her maid.

  "Kate!" she cried. "What happened? What is it?"

  She knelt down, gripping Kate's hand. It was obvious she'd been beaten, but by whom? And why? Who would do such a thing to a woman? Who would do such a thing to anyone?

  Onlookers had gathered, curious as to the pathetic, crumpled figure, so Selena and the maid carried Kate inside and laid her on the sofa in the parlor.

  "Kate!" Selena was desperate to rouse her. "Who is responsible for this?"

  "Regina," Kate managed.

  Christopher's mother? Selena trembled with revulsion. "But why?"

  "I didn't steal your money, Selena. I swear it."

  "Of course you didn't," Selena concurred. "Who would raise such an absurd accusation?"

  "Regina said so, and Marcus believed her."

  "Marcus? You mean Lord Stamford?"