Page 32 of Venus in Disguise

“Your grace,” Narcissa said again, her temper rising as the unfairness of his words made her blood boil.

“You will hold your tongue,” he raged, and this time she saw the revulsion in his eyes, a depth of fury of the kind she had never before encountered. He knew. In that moment, she realised he had discovered her meeting with Ash. Though she ought to have known better, she turned to stare at Maud, who paled and shook her head.

“I n-never—” she began helplessly, wringing her hands together.

“No, but you ought to have done, and this is the thanks I get for all the kindness I have shown you,” Mrs Chandler said, turning on Maud in disgust. “To think, all these years I have tended a viper in my own home. When I think of everything I have done for you and, at the first moment you could, you betrayed me. Instead of coming to me about this wicked child’s behaviour, you turned it to your own advantage, and then to say you understand why she did it! La! I was never more shocked,” she went on, pressing a hand to her breast, her lip trembling unconvincingly.

“You… You read my diary,” Maud said, her voice quavering. “You unspeakable bitch!”

Mrs Chandler gasped at the violent words, her cheeks turning scarlet as Maud stood rigid as a bowstring, her skinny frame vibrating with rage. “And after everything you have done for me? You have the nerve to say that out loud after the years of insults, after having me fetch and carry, treating me like a servant? You have never given me anything I did not earn, and it has taken a man like Mr Anson to make me see that I have got so much wrong. I have spent too long revering a man who is nothing more than a spiteful bully, and doing as he told me I must. If not for you, I might be married,” she said, glaring at the duke with such murderous fury that Narcissa wondered if she might actually strike him. “If not for you, I might have a family, people who loved and cared for me, instead of being at the mercy of a hard-hearted, callous slut. And as for you, Mrs Chandler, how dare you chastise Narcissa for being wicked? You should look to your own bed and the parade of lovers who traipse in and out of it before you berate that innocent girl.”

Mrs Chandler let out a shriek of wrath and turned on the duke, flushed with indignation and mortification. “Are you going to let that evil shrew speak to me like that?”

“That will be enough,” the duke growled, his tone low but menacing enough to silence Mrs Chandler. “Miss Pinkerton, I will thank you to return to Kemble House and gather your things. You are no longer a part of this family.”

“Your grace, no!” Narcissa said, for as much as she could not help but blame Maud for her part in this, she could not see her turned out of doors. “She has no one else, no—”

“Then she ought to have thought of that before she betrayed my trust,” the duke said implacably. “And I warn you, Narcissa, if you think I would not cut you off too, that would be a foolish mistake to make.”

“I don’t think it,” Narcissa said, struggling to keep her voice even but determined to speak her mind. “I know well enough that you don’t give a damn for any of us, past what it is you think we can do to further the family name.”

The duke looked at her and shook his head. “What the devil else is there for you to do? Females marry and bear children, that is your purpose in life. When Miss Pinkerton failed to fulfil that purpose adequately, she failed the family and became a burden. I should think carefully before you follow in her footsteps.”

“And what of happiness?” Narcissa asked dully, too miserable to cry, numb with shock and sorrow. “Do you have no room in your heart, no compassion at all for what our lives will be like if you choose a husband who will make us wretched?”

“Good God, this is what comes of reading novels,” the duke said in disgust. “I suppose you hoped to fall in love, did you? What a fool you are, Narcissa. I granted you with a modicum more intelligence than that dullard of a sister of yours, but I was wrong. To think, a daughter of mine would dare to dally with a man who was not even English, whose blood is tainted by that of an Indian slave, of all things! It beggars belief.”

“He is a better man than you, than you could ever hope to be!” Narcissa shouted, the words exploding from her in a show of rage she could not hold back.

The slap was so sudden and so violent that it knocked her sideways, and she staggered, crashing into a chair and falling heavily to the floor.

“Oh, you brute!” Maud shrieked, running to her. “Narcissa, my dear, are you all right?”

Narcissa blinked through hot tears that stung her eyes. She was shaking with shock and pain and the terrible realisation that she had underestimated her father. He truly was a monster, and one she ought to have feared far more than she had until this moment.

She nodded, dazed and unable to speak for fear she would break down, and she would not give him the satisfaction.

“We are leaving,” the duke said, his tone merciless. “Get up, Narcissa. It is about time you learned what it means to obey, and that the price of defying me is one you will not enjoy paying.”

Chapter 10

Sir,

I will thank you to meet with me this day at 4pm.

Beresford.

―Excerpt of a letter from His Grace, The Duke of Beresford, to Mr Ashton Anson.

26th February 1850, Kemble House, Mayfair, London.

Ash stared at the house in front of him, wondering what the bloody hell he was doing here. When the summons had arrived, his first instinct had been to throw it into the fire, for if the bastard thought he could make Ash jump when he said jump, he was very much mistaken. Yet there was only one reason he could think of for the man to ask him to come to the house, and that was because Maud had betrayed them after all.

Guilt lodged in his chest as he wondered if he ought to have done more to silence the woman. Perhaps he ought to have been less curt with her, but his damned pride would never have allowed it. He had believed she had been grateful, too, fool that he was.

Concern for Narcissa was a chill beneath his skin. Everyone said Beresford was a cold bastard, and he hoped the man had not been unkind to her. The impossible desire to rescue her from the brute left a hollow sensation in his chest. If he’d thought they might have a future together, that she could be happy living her life with him, he would have moved heaven and earth to get her out of her father’s house. But there was little point in taking her from one unpleasant situation to another that would make her just as miserable, albeit for different reasons. That he might be mistaken in her was an idea he would have loved to believe in, but he was too cynical about the world. The sooner the girl married and got out from under the duke’s control, the better it would be for her.

Resolute and keen to get the ordeal over and done with, Ash rapped on the front door and was promptly shown in.