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“You are still—”
“How do we stop him?” she asked. “Have you gone back to the magistrate and told him of his misdeeds?”
“I told you it was useless. He brushed it off.”
“Even with your witnesses?”
I had told her this. “It was long ago. It might have succeeded when Fitzwilliam was only a bastard, but now, it is different. The magistrate all but told me to let the past remain so and move on for the good of everyone.”
“It is not good for anyone!”
“Aphrodite, what is wrong?” I asked, placing my hands upon her shoulder. “What occurred between you and Mrs. Topwells—”
“Do not call her that,” she bit out, her arms crossed. “She deserves better than to be called by the name…the name of he who beats her.”
Must that man inherit all of our father’s worst traits? I exhaled slowly. “You saw proof of this?”
“He hits her in places no one will see, Evander! Her family has all but abandoned her. She has no control over her own home or dowry. She is a prisoner brought out like a doll to smile and then locked back away. God only knows what is happening to her. We must help her. We must bring that…that devil to justice!”
“A task I have worked toward all my life to no avail. If I could simply throw the man into a cage and leave him to rot, I would. But I cannot.”
“Then what are we to do!” She was on the verge of tears. “We are the duke and duchess. Surely we can do something.”
We could not. Marcella was his wife, and it was none of our or the law’s business. All I could do was hug Aphrodite, for I understood her frustration. For all the wealth, titles, and land we held, we were powerless against one man.
“I will speak to the magistrate again tomorrow.” It would be of little use. Nevertheless, I would try.
In truth, I had no means of bringing him down and feared his impact on this family. I reached down and lifted her, bringing her to the bed and laying her down.
“I know you to be a person of great character,” I said, cupping her cheek. “But you must accept, as I have learned, that not all the world is full of the same integrity, and sometimes the immoral are not punished for their actions. We must simply protect ourselves from them.”
“So, we sit by and do nothing?”
“Let us be grateful our own lives are not as such.”
The frown upon her face remained even as I kissed her.
Aphrodite
I watched as he slept soundly beside me, his arm over the top of my body. In his arms, I felt better but only slightly. I could not help but wonder what was happening with Marcella. I had tried with all my might to convince her to stay here, but she was too afraid. I now understood what Evander had explained. There was nothing that could be done.
It was horrifying.
Fitzwilliam’s victims were forced into silence. Marcella, Evander…Emeline’s mother. I could not take the injustice ofit.
Rising from the bed, I donned my dressing gown and went to my drawing room. There, upon the dresser, were letters from my mother and sisters, along with a pen and paper for the replies I had yet to send.
Sitting down, I stared at the blank page for the longest time before I lifted the pen and dipped it in the ink. The moment I began to write, I could not stop.
32
Evander
“I write to tell you of a tale most ghastly in nature, one deprived of all morality and sickening to both the hearts and minds of decent people everywhere. The truth behind the brute of a man, born of the former Duke of Everely, who stalks among us now under the name of Fitzwilliam Topwells.” I read the paper aloud in horror.
When I had awoken that morning I was met with, in both the local paper and the gossip sheets, the story of my private life, and my father’s, alongside Fitzwilliam’s. Listed there were all of his crimes against me—with the exception of the truth of Emeline’s birth, though I am sure others would guess given the timing of her birth. Emma’s life was written of in detail that was known by only one person besides myself. Which was why I stood before Aphrodite, reading aloud, waiting for a look of surprise or shock, but she merely sat quietly in her chair, her hands folded in her lap.
“You did this,” I snapped. Yesterday, I thought she had spent her day replying to letters and was still melancholy over her discovery about Marcella. Instead, she was exposing my family shame to the world. “Aphrodite, what have you done!”
