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“I need to get home. I don’t want to leave Mr. Pritchens alone with my father all night. Just in case.”
“I’ll have one of the footmen walk with you,” Ainsley said.
“No need. There’s no one about. I’ll run directly home.”
“Are you certain?”
“Completely.” Cecelia crossed the room and hugged her friend tightly. “Thank you,” she murmured.
“You’re welcome.” Ainsley patted Cecelia’s back. “Now run home. Send for me if you need anything.”
Cecelia went out the front door, holding a lantern in her hand as she walked down the road. She heaved a sigh of relief when she saw that the lights of her home had all been doused.
She slipped through the open door and closed it behind her. But she didn’t realize what a mistake it was to come home until a bottle hit the wall directly beside her head and shattered all over the floor.
“Where have you been?” her father bellowed.
Sixteen
Cecelia closed her eyes tightly and counted to ten.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
Nine.
Ten.
She could count to one hundred and when she opened her eyes, her father would still be there in all his drunken glory, and she would still hate him just as much.
The first time he’d raised his hand to her was just after her mother’s death. That had been a slap across the cheek when she’d chastised him for having another glass of wine.
The second time had been a little more direct and couldn’t be explained away as a rash on her face. She’d had a bruise across her cheekbone that required her to stay at home and out of sight for a sennight.
Mr. Pritchens stepped between her and her father. “Mr. Hewitt,” he began, his voice shaking with rage. “Miss Hewitt went to fetch something for one of the upstairs maids. She has a terrible megrim. It was at my request.”
“Are you daft, man?” her father bellowed. “We have servants for running errands.”
All the servants would be in bed at this time of the night, but her father didn’t know or didn’t care about anyone’s comfort but his own. “I volunteered,” Cecelia said. “Everyone else was in bed.”
“Why didn’t you go yourself, Pritchens?” her father snarled. “You sent my daughter out in the dead of night to run an errand?”
Mr. Pritchens gritted his teeth and said, “I was somewhat preoccupied.”
Her father kept Mr. Pritchens busy every night for what seemed like the whole night. But her father paid no heed to how much discomfort he caused everyone else.
