Chapter Twelve
The thunder of yet another summer downpour rattled the chandelier in the Earl’s study. Claudia was nowhere to be seen, and William paced around the study half-delirious with lust. He wanted to cackle. He wanted to cry. Because it had all been a mistake, a wonderful, miraculous mistake he could not bring himself to regret. Yes. Miraculous. Because never in his life had he imagined that he could feel another person’s body as though it were his own, as though every shiver, every sigh, had belonged to him.
And he was haunted. Like a dark rickety mansion that had once been a well-run estate and was now falling apart, and the ghost of this woman was driving him to madness, holding the shreds of his rationality aloft like she had held his cravat, victorious, triumphant.
He must get her out of his head. Promptly.
He grabbed two golden goblets and secured them in his satchel, just to remind himself of what he was actually meant to be doing there. And yet it felt…strange. His fingers did not tingle with the familiar thrill that stealing gave him. There was just silence.
It was high time he spoke to Caiani and claimed his reward. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to feel excited about it. Because Claudia was avoiding him, there was no doubt about that. He had made a fool of himself yesterday, hadn’t he? And no wonder. He had been clumsy and hasty. He had lost control of his body so very quickly—and to her calling him a good boy , of all things! If only the shame could make him disappear! But he had warned her, hadn’t he? He had never done that before!
He paced around the room, ashamed, yes, now really ashamed, because he had held something so golden and raw and precious as her pleasure in his hands, and he had just been completely inept.
Or was there something worse going on? She had been crying when they had met. And she had been crying after too, and she had tried to push him away. Well, he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to find out what was going on! He walked straight out into the grandiose corridor lined with windows overlooking the stormy garden. He strolled down the corridor, through the immense dining hall where golden chandeliers were suspended in the shadows.
Claim your reward, and you’ll have a palazzo like this.
But instead of turning back to the study he ventured on, towards the only wing of the palazzo that the Earl had not showed him that day. The wing where the bedrooms must be. And sure enough, in the darkness at the bottom of a corridor, by a large window through which lightning flashed, Lady Claudia’s maid was standing in front of a door. Her fingers were pressed to her forehead, perhaps nursing a headache.
He walked so quietly that, by the time she saw him, his hand was already on the handle. Her eyes went big like saucers.
‘You cannot, sir,’ she hissed.
‘I need to talk to her, Betty. It’s Betty, isn’t it?’ He took a step back.
‘Miss Bolton.’
Right.
‘Of course. Miss Bolton. Please tell Lady Claudia that I need to talk to her.’
‘You may not , sir,’ she repeated firmly, gritting her teeth.
‘Is she unwell?’ And again he had that sensation of confusion and nausea, as though the world had been telling him that there was something wrong through signals he had not been able to decipher.
Betty was silent.
‘I’ll take it as a yes.’ Then something dawned on him, and he bluffed. ‘Did the Earl of St Cross attempt anything?’
‘You know about him?’
‘Of course I do,’ he lied. He could not really say he knew anything other than the mere sight of him had made her ill. ‘What happened?’
There was a long moment in which Betty must be figuring out whether she loathed St Cross more than she mistrusted him.
‘There was an unpleasant incident yesterday morning at the Caffè Greco . St Cross threatened Lady Claudia and—’
Betty’s hand was on his wrist, and she was clutching it. His mind went blank with rage. She was saying something, something about St Cross grabbing Claudia’s wrist until it hurt—had he grabbed her wrist yesterday? Had she looked injured? She had been wearing a long-sleeved dress!
‘He was here today to talk with the Countess. I don’t know what was said, but it is dangerous, sir. St Cross and his family are invited here for dinner tomorrow.’ She lowered her voice and her black eyes filled with fury and tears. ‘It’s a trap, sir, I know it, I feel it. She will not listen to me—she’ll end up married to him! The only person who could help her is due to be in Rome the day after tomorrow. It will be already too late then. Please convince her to run from St Cross. They must not marry. I…I do not want to go back where I came from. I know where you came from. I know you can understand. If you don’t do it for her…please, do it for me—’
And though he had no idea how the two things were connected, he had seen that very horror before. In the mirror. And in the eyes of the abused and the oppressed, of those who had learned to survive by eating only their own despair. He knew that those like him, who had eventually been saved, were propelled in life by one single thought: that all their good fortune could crumble in their hands. That they did not want to go back where they came from.
He placed a hand on her shoulder—it was bony and thin like a bird’s. She must not be older than fifteen. That a girl should carry so much sorrow, so much fear.
‘You are going nowhere,’ he said softly. ‘Neither you, nor I. Now tell her that I’m here.’
Betty dried her eyes and knocked softly. She peeped in and whispered something.
There was a long silence.
‘Let him in.’
Miss Bolton stepped aside, and he walked through the door.
It must have been the portal to another universe, or to a sumptuous oil painting come to life.
Claudia was sitting at her dressing table. Her long hair flowed in blond-red waves to her waist. Above her shone the sunny, leafy heavens of a fresco. There were gods and goddesses frolicking, rivers flowing, and reeds swaying in the wind. Below it, her canopy bed was as large as his own bedroom. His cravat was on her bedside table, as if left by a forgetful lover. His heart skipped a beat.
Claudia looked pale and regal, a little surprised. She wore a light blue dress that made her eyes look glacial. For a moment the dazzling beauty of it all took his breath away.
‘Mr Ca—William!’ She hastily arranged her hair in a knot behind her head, a little flushed, looking terribly lovely. ‘You better have a very good reason to visit me here.’
‘I do.’
He glanced at her wrist. She immediately hid it behind her back.
It was bruised.
William Campbell had made many interesting discoveries since meeting Lady Claudia. He had discovered that his heart could soar at the mere prospect of seeing her. And that ‘my body’ and ‘your body’ were just labels, for he had felt her pleasure and her sighs course through him as his own. Or that when he liked a woman, he was actually rather shy.
That day, William Campbell discovered that he could kill.
He could kill any man who dared lay a hand on her.
***
Claudia’s heart pounded in her chest, strong, loud, like a lion caged. Since the previous day, she could no longer think straight. She had gone out to meet him in the rain knowing full well what she was doing. She had wanted to feel pleasure and excitement after the devastation left by Edward.
And instead he had turned the tables on her with his gentleness, his desire, and his inexperience. After the nightmares left by Edward, it had felt like salvation.
It was dizzying. And dangerous. She was not ready for it. It was best to quietly withdraw and pretend it never happened. But now that William was standing in her bedroom, all taut and stormy and worried, she did not have the heart to send him away. He grabbed a chair and sat down close to her.
‘Claudia,’ he said softly, opening his palm, his eyes big and warm and almost—one would have said—a little scared. ‘Show me your wrist, please.’
‘I wouldn’t know what business it is of yours.’
She was ashamed that she had let a man hurt her like this again.
‘Please, Claudia. I just want to make sure that you are fine.’
Stop. Please stop being so good to me. It just makes everything more difficult.
She held her wrist out to him. He held it in her palm like a sacred thing, though he winced, and his eyes flickered with rage. The softness of his touch, compared to Edward’s grasp, brought tears to her eyes.
‘Betty told me. It was St Cross, yes?’
She nodded.
‘I shouldn’t have let him.’ Something collapsed within her. Her vision clouded with furious tears. ‘I should have shouted. I should have fought back. I am strong, I could have hurt him! I am not like this, William! I am not a lamb!’
‘Claudia.’ His voice was soothing, just a tad tremulous with emotion. ‘This has nothing to do with who or what you are. Because it is not your fault. There is only one person who is at fault here, and it is the man who did this to you.’
It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault.
‘It should have never happened, Claudia. And I promise…’ he swallowed. ‘In fact, I swear that it will never happen again.’
Sobs shook her chest. She wished it was all true, that he could stop that from happening by merely willing it.
‘Darling.’ William took her handkerchief from the table and softly dabbed her tears as though it was the most natural thing in the world. ‘You should have told me what happened yesterday. Then we would have sat down together somewhere. We would have talked, and I would have kept you close, like you did with me the other day. Would you like to tell me what has been happening, now? What is going on with St Cross?’
He looked at her so tenderly.
‘It’s a long story.’
‘We have time. All the time in this world.’ He pressed a kiss to her knuckles. ‘Would you like me to ask Miss Bolton to bring us tea?’
‘Yes, please.’
He called for tea. She waited in silence, numb, until Betty appeared with a tray. Then they sat down at the coffee table near the window. She watched the storm ravage the lemon trees outside.
‘It started a long time ago,’ she heard herself say. ‘Edward and I were childhood friends. We grew up in each other’s homes, in Oxfordshire and in Rome. When I found out that I had been promised to him since the day I was born, it didn’t come as a surprise. Our families were very close. But he had never been in love with me, nor I with him. In fact, he was madly in love with one of my dearest friends. But she lived in Austria, far away. A few years ago, all of a sudden, his eldest brother died. From one day to the next he found himself thrust into the role of Earl. By that time, things had deteriorated so much between me and my family that I was no longer living with them.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘One thing after the other. Things were difficult for him. His brother had been a rake and a dissolute. He had squandered the whole estate. It was a while before St Cross could set things right and think about marriage again. And when that happened, to my surprise, he started courting me, though he had never shown an inclination to do so before . I told him again and again that I was not interested in marriage, neither with him nor with anyone else. But he was persistent. Possessive. Prone to furious outbursts. He idolised my supposed purity, elevating me above other women, whom he thought fickle and dissolute. He hated anything about me that didn’t conform to the idea he had of me. He hated that in my shelter I looked after women he called debauched and unchaste. He loathed that I had a life that was full and meaningful, and that I did not need him to give a purpose to my existence. And yet he still wanted to marry me and possess me like a thing. When it became clear that he intended to persist in his courtship—I decided to reveal something about me.’
She pressed her hands together.
‘Only those closest to my heart know what I am about to tell you.’
‘It will be safe with me too, Claudia.’
But it was difficult. Because William was not like her. He was innocent. He was pure .
‘I am afraid that if I tell you, you will not want to know me anymore.’
***
William had never heard anything more ridiculous.
‘Nonsense. I am here for you.’
He had never spoken like that to anyone, but it was the truth. He just wanted to hold her in his arms and keep her safe.
‘I told St Cross that I was not the woman he thought I was. That I was a liar and a fraud. That I had another life alongside the one everyone revered me for. I had been with men before.’ Not exactly a surprise, as she was clearly confident with what they had done yesterday. She looked at him straight in the eyes. ‘Yes, all my life I had been with men when I fancied it. Men…who did not move in my circles.’
It did not take much guessing to know what she meant.
Men below her station.
Men like him. Men like his brothers, who had slept with titled women only for them to scorn them in public.
It was like a blade.
For a moment he was completely numb, like something had been ripped away from him.
‘Did…did your family know about that?’
‘They found out about one. And they found about the rest from St Cross, when he told them. The one they found out about…I was nineteen when it happened. That was how things broke down between me and my family. My mother wanted to lock me up in a convent. It was only Father’s intervention that prevented it from happening. But they never forgave me. I was smarter after that. I travel a lot between Oxfordshire and London, where my shelter is. I lived on my own by the shelter. And in the city sometimes I would meet…’ she swallowed, ‘men who did not know who I was. For a night. For two. Just to enjoy each other’s bodies. Nobody falling in love. Nobody getting hurt. And let’s be honest, even if they had known who I was, who would have believed them?’ Her eyes turned to steel. ‘What did I tell you? A fraud .’
She sharply withdrew her hand from his. The bruise on her wrist was a sobering reminder that they were not there for him. He could deal with his hurt feelings later.
‘What happened when you told St Cross?’
‘Ah. Well. He must have understood that he would never possess me. Maybe he felt betrayed because my parents had promised me to him. And then—’
She stood and began pacing around.
‘Something flashed in his eyes. He looked at me with a hatred so deep and dark I did not know it could exist. He told me that a woman like me was not fit to be a wife. That he could see on my skin all the men I had lain with. That I was revolting, and I would die loveless and unloved, driven insane by regrets. And then—and then—’
Her eyes flashed with silver and steel.
‘Then he dragged me to the floor and beat me within an inch of my life.’
There was a silence that seemed to stretch all the way from Claudia’s past to his. Their lives intertwined, and he saw himself in her, recognising the memory of an ancient pain that at times coursed through his body.
‘I hit a corner of the desk as I fell.’ She pointed at the scar on her lip. She swallowed. ‘And then my head hit the floor hard. I thought I would die.’
She was standing, serious, stern, trembling. And behind her, just below her clenched fist, was his mother on the marble floor. All curled up and limp. Her hair was matted with blood.
A woman’s scream echoed all the way up to the frescos.
No. Not now. Please, not now.
He had to be present. To reassure her. To be steady like a man . But the next thing he knew was that he was sobbing like a madman and closing the distance between them, holding her in his arms tightly, so tightly, rambling.
‘Claudia. It should have never—you should have never—You—a sacred thing. You are sacred—’
He held her tighter, harder. She gasped.
But you are here. We made it. We survived.
And all of a sudden everything , including Caiani’s offer, his treasure, and his lust for wealth seemed paltry and minuscule compared to that miracle. That they had both made it. That they had survived. That somehow they were both healthy and strong, and still standing. And he had an utterly unreasonable desire to ensure that it would always be so, that she would always, always be safe.
She coughed.
‘William…’ she croaked.
‘Yes?’
‘I can’t breathe.’
‘Oh—I’m so sorry.’
She gave him a trembling smile and guided him to the settee. He held her more gently now, steeling himself for her.
‘Go on, if you wish. I am here for you.’
She rested her head on his chest, and she traced shapes on his heart as she spoke.
‘I thought I would die.’
He kissed her forehead.
But you are here. You made it. We made it.
‘Then it all went dark. The next thing I saw was my father. I will never forget the fury in his eyes. I had it coming, that’s what his eyes said! He had me brought to the country, where no one would know what had happened. Then it all went blurry and dark and confusing again, for days. I had hit my head so hard that the headaches were splitting. Everything was pain. When I breathed. When I turned in my bed. My vision was blurry. I was sick whenever I tried to stand. I breathed nightmares day and night. I came to wish that he had killed me. Yes, I came to wish I had died.’
He held her tighter.
Don’t say it. We made it. The Lord be thanked, we made it.
‘Then one day, one day…’ her face lit up, and she lifted herself up as though to watch something marvellous in the distance. ‘One day in my delirium I saw…I saw my best friend, my kindred spirit, my real family …sitting at the feet of the bed with his siblings. Quiet. Just watching over me.’ She dried her tears. ‘He wouldn’t let anyone get close to me. He fed me. He washed me. He brushed my hair. And the day he was sure I had regained enough strength, he picked me up like this.’ She showed him. ‘Just like I had picked Betty up from a street some years ago. Like I didn’t weigh anything. And he brought me and Betty away with him to Austria. The journey was interminable. There were so many migraines. I lost count of the times I was sick in his carriage. And he did not care at all. He brought me to his estate in the country.’
His body tensed a little, and his breath became shallow. He was jealous that this man had been there for her in this way. He put that on the pile of things to think about later. This moment was not about him.
‘I spent one year recovering in his estate. I slowly regained my strength. And when I did, I never stopped. I never stopped walking, moving, hiking, gardening, fetching and carrying. Like I had done before, but more . I feared that if I stopped, I would never be able to get up again.’
His heart contracted. That explained why she looked so strong. The strength he so admired in her had something tragic to it now.
‘But you know, although I regained my strength and I was safe and loved there, I felt more and more unhappy. I understood that the only way to heal would be to go back to my life. So a couple of weeks ago I travelled to Rome. To spend a few weeks here, in a lively city full of sunlight, before heading back to England again.’
She went quiet for the longest time. He could hear the dull thrumming of their hearts.
‘You know, when my family discovered I had dishonoured myself, I began raising funds for a shelter for fallen women. Because I knew that all things considered, I had been lucky. Many other women in my situation had been rejected by their families and society. Many of them could not escape from the men who abused them, because they had nowhere else left to go. So I gave them a home. But somehow, unconsciously, my privileged self seemed to think that sort of violence didn’t happen to people like me. To people who had everything from life.’ She sneered bitterly. ‘How small-minded I was.’
Her voice trailed off. She looked so tired. Her complexion was ashen.
‘Come here,’ he gently guided her head to his chest again. She slumped against it, exhausted. ‘Rest here with me for a moment.’
‘I don’t know what got into St Cross, but he wants me back,’ she murmured, eyes closed. ‘Can’t understand why. He despises me. Never loved me. Ever. Maybe he just wants to finish off what he started.’ Her voice was so thin, so tired. ‘He’ll come for dinner tomorrow. I bet he wants to force an engagement.’
A cold sweat ran down his spine.
‘Then don’t go, darling. Why would you do this to yourself?’
‘Because I am tired of running away from him.’ She wiped a hand over her face. ‘All I have been able to do in this year has been running away. I only feel worse for it.’
‘When an animal is wounded, it withdraws and nurses its wounds. You will find a way to be rid of him, but on your own terms. Not on his . You will be happy and whole again, I can promise it. But now—look at me, Claudia.’ Her grey eyes met his. ‘Please, do not go . If my brothers were here, they’d tell you the same. We grew up trying to appease our father, to bend over backwards to do his bidding, not to upset him. But he’d only become more violent, more demanding. It was not a life worth living. Run from him this time, regain your strength, and calculate what to do next.’
‘It will be fine.’
‘Claudia.’ He held her shoulders. ‘Say the words, and I will take you away from it.’
‘Why are you doing this for me?’ Her eyes narrowed with mistrust.
‘Because I know what you went through. You know that I do.’
Her gaze softened. She placed her warm palm on his forehead.
‘You have a fever, William. Please, go home. You have already done so much for me. You need to take care of yourself too.’
‘It’s not a fever, Claudia.’ He brought her hand to his lips. ‘Maybe you know what it is.’
Her eyes filled with tears again. She averted her gaze.
‘Accept my help. Come to our house. I promise I want nothing of you, just to keep you safe. My brother Edmund is staying with us right now. He is a complete idiot—the funny sort, though, and he always has some story to tell. And Mrs Russell is always raving about your column. It would be her dream to talk to you.’
He kissed her hand, but she withdrew it.
‘I thank you with all my heart. But I know what is right for me.’ She brushed a kiss against his cheek, blushing. ‘Would you leave now, please? I think I need to be alone.’