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“You’re promised to me, Eloise. Enough of this foolishness,” Lord Crawford snapped.
Eloise had nothing but contempt for him. She hated him with a passion. He was nothing but a wicked devil. A rake whom she would never love, and who would never love her. Every quality Jackson possessed was given its opposite in Lord Crawford, a man in whom she could find only cruelty and guile.
“But I didn’t promise myself to you. I hate you,” Eloise sneered.
“Silence.” Penelope raised her hand as though to strike Eloise once again.
“I won’t be silenced. I won’t…” Eloise cried out, but Lord Crawford pointed the pistol at her with a menacing expression on his face.
“Enough,” he barked, and Eloise fell silent.
The journey back to London seemed to take an age, and by the time they arrived to her father’s house, Eloise felt too defeated to resist. She was beaten. Her father and Lord Crawford had won. There was nothing she could do to resist them. The two henchmen hauled her out of the carriage and up the steps to the front door.
“Go, you’ve done your work,” Claudia dismissed, as Lord Crawford handed the two men payment for their trouble.
There was no chance for Eloise to flee. the door was suddenly opened by her father’s butler, Anderton, who stared at her in astonishment.
“My Lady…” he began, but Lord Crawford pushed past him.
“You keep this door locked, Anderton. And all the others, too. Do you understand me?”
At that moment, the Viscount emerged from his study and stared angrily at Eloise, who faced him defiantly.
“So, you thought you could run away, did you?”
“I didn’t think you’d look for me, not after the way you treated Alice,” Eloise taunted.
At that moment, she despised her father. He had done nothing but behave in a cruel and wicked manner. A father was supposed to protect his daughter and want what was best for her. But Eloise’s father had done the very opposite. He had handed her over to the devil himself and placed her amongst the lions.
“Alice is… was different.”
“How? She’s your daughter, too, isn’t she? But you didn’t care enough for her to send anyone looking for her, did you? Why me, then?” Eloise clenched her fists.
“This is what happens when a child has no discipline,” Penelope scoffed, shaking her head.
“And what would you know of it? There’s no man alive who’d marry you and give you children. And thank goodness for that,” Eloise retorted.
Penelope looked as though she would gladly have struck Eloise across the face a second time. But now the Viscount beckoned his daughter towards his study.
“I want to talk to you, Eloise,” he said, glancing at Lord Crawford, who nodded.
“As do I,” he added, and Eloise was led towards her father’s study.
She was now a prisoner in her own home. At the mercy of her father’s will and Lord Crawford’s desires. Her father’s study smelled of tobacco smoke. A fire had been kindled in the hearth, so it was uncomfortably warm.
“Sit down.” Her father indicated a chair by the fire.
“I’d rather stand.” Eloise refused to sit down, even as Lord Crawford and her father did so.
In the carriage, Eloise had vowed to resist with all her might. They could not force her to marry Lord Crawford. She would refuse to speak and refuse to comply in any way with their orders. It was the only way she could think to resist. She had tried to escape, and now she must reject everything they demanded of her.
“As you wish. But you won’t disobey, Eloise. I’m tired of your unruliness. I’ve tried to be a good father to you. I’ve allowed you many freedoms. But this is where that ends. Enough is enough, Eloise.”
The Viscount was drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair, whilst Lord Crawford had his eyes fixed angrily on Eloise, who stood her ground and faced them defiantly.
“I want you to forget the Duke of Kenwood. He’s trouble. A man without a penny to his name, with a crumbling pile in Kent he calls an estate. He’s a womanizer, a no-good rake. I’m sorry to have brought you back in such a way, Eloise. But you’ve got to learn,” Lord Crawford said.
He almost sounded sympathetic. If Eloise had not been so angry, she might have burst out laughing at his extraordinary words. A no-good rake? A Womanizer? Trouble? These were all words that could have described Lord Crawford himself. They did describe Lord Crawford – these and much worse names, too.
