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He nodded. “How she knew was beyond me. I have not the heart to ask. But one day, she arrived, not only with your father but also an old family friend who happened to be the local magistrate, pretending as though they had been invited for lunch. My father, never wishing to look the fool and believing Datura to be at fault for not remembering, agreed to the lunch. Your mother asked for Verity, as she had gifts. Datura had forgotten she’d locked Verity away. When she called for her at your mother’s request, Datura lied and said Verity was sleeping. Your mother said she would visit her room. So Datura sought to have her brought, but your mother refused and insisted on walking to Verity’s room. When she could not find Verity in her rooms, nor could anyone find her, your mother began to scream and weep, saying that they had killed her.”
“Scream and weep?” I repeated, eyebrow raised. “My mama can scream. Weeping, however, is not her forte.”
“That day, she did. Everyone’s account of it was the same. She even collapsed in grief.” A slight smile appeared on his face even as his eyes filled with tears he had not let fall. “And thank God she had, for the entire house was then alarmed. A whole search was mounted to find Verity and prove to your mother that Verity was not dead. After another hour, she was found in the cabinet. My father lied to the magistrate and said she must have locked herself inside while playing. That settled everyone but your mother, who started to wonder why Verity was so thin, and then she remarked about the scratches inside the cabinet. The more attention brought, the more everyone began to wonder, especially the magistrate. He asked to speak with Verity without my father or Datura in the room.”
“Did Verity explain what had happened to her?”
“She was young and traumatized, so she could not speak well. Thus, the magistrate could do nothing, as there was not much evidence. Soon after that, there was much talk, regarding my father’s anger. To prove it all untrue, he hired several nannies and a governess to take care of Verity and forbade Datura from ever interfering with her. Datura was not even allowed in the same wing of the house as Verity. And your mother showed up unannounced several more times just in case. Verity was never forced to submit to Datura again, and she grew happier and healthier. Still, the ordeal left her mentally scarred, especially when it becomes dark and she is alone.”
Verity’s pleas replayed in my head. “Datura is a vile creature.”
“More than you know.” He shook his head. “There are no portraits of my mother because Datura had them burned, by accident she claimed, though how all my mother’s portraits ended up in one room that would later catch fire is beyond comprehension or reason. All that remained of my mother was a sketch. With that sketch I had many artists attempt to create new work. But none could truly capture her except Sir Cowles. Sadly, he passed before he could paint more of her. I felt it a sort of curse. Though I am grateful to, at least, have something. For Verity’s sake as well.”
“Your father allowed all of this to occur?” That was the most perplexing piece of all of this. Was this not his family? His children? Was it not his duty to protect them at the very least?
“My father cared not,” he replied bitterly. “The only important thing in his life was himself. He wished to have the butcher’s daughter, and so he had her. He wished to marry the very best noble lady of society, thus, he did. He refused moderation or even decency, deceiving my mother into marrying him with no remorse or care. Only exposing the truth to her after he had gotten what he wanted—a legitimate heir. Once he had that, he cared not where she was, what she did, or even if she lived or died. There were days I believed he was pleased she was dead, as he no longer had to keep up with the pretense of their lives together. Do you wish to know what he said the day we returned from a trip to London, after my mother had just passed? Verity not even a week old and brought to him for the first time?”
I did not know that I did, as I was sure my heart would ache more for him. “What?” I asked.
“ ‘So much effort…for a girl.’ ” He clenched his teeth tightly. “Those were his first words to Verity, and then he never paid any mind to her. His attention to me was solely for the running of the estate, maintaining our good name—the name he’d dragged through the mud, dumped in my lap, and wished me to maintain. He cared for no one, Aphrodite. There was no love in this house. It was cold and cruel and harsh till the day he died. Sometimes, even to this day, I feel a chill here. I cannot explain it any more than this. And I feel mortified speaking of it.”
I kissed his knuckles, holding on tightly. “I do not mean to force you to relive such agonizing memories. I was merely seeking to understand you better, and now I do. You need not say any more. Forgive me for pushing you so. You are right. I am ignorant of such hardships.”
“Do not apologize for that ignorance, it is one of my favorite qualities in you.” He chuckled, resting his forehead on mine. “I fell in love with you, but I also love your family. I wish for the same for myself—for us.”
“So, six children then?”
“I prefer eight,” he replied.
“That is far too many!”
“The more, the merrier. I wish Everely to be louder than Belclere Castle, with siblings who laugh, tease, and fight but deep down truly love one another.”
“I promise you that it is not advisable. My mama made it look simple, but I am not her, and such a litter would drive you mad.”
“You have whipped the house into order, and I believe you will do the same with our children. However, if you insist, we may settle—you’ll have six.”
“With Emeline, that is seven, which is barely a concession!”
He laughed. “Yes, but barely a concession is better than no concession at all, so shall we begin?”
He kissed my lips, and it felt as though ages had gone by since I had kissed him. I wrapped my arm around his shoulder. Soon I found myself drawn into his lap.
“Wait,” I said as I felt him lift my skirt. “I cannot stay the night.”
“Why ever not? Have we not reconciled?”
“We have. But I promised Emeline I would read to her.”
“It is late. She may very well be asleep,” he replied, kissing my neck.
“She will still be awake. I have noticed she does not sleep well until she hears a story. Mrs. Watson used to do it for her.”
He paused at the mention of Mrs. Watson’s name, then lifted his head. “I dismissed her because—”
“I know,” I replied, cupping his face. “Emeline told me.”
“She…she did not harm Emeline in any other way, correct?” A deep frown hung upon his lips. “Please tell me I did not also ignore any further insult to or abuse of her?”
