Chapter 5
Five
“This is your fault!” Lord Leyton waved a sausage finger in Isobel’s face before turning and pacing across the drawing room floor, the scent of alcohol wafting from him.
She had been hoping he wouldn’t find her in there the afternoon after the ball. All she had wanted was a day on her own to work on one of her paintings and hide from the reality of what she had done the evening prior.
The memory of the duke’s kiss lingered with an unsettling warmth, made all the worse by the bitter knowledge that she had failed Joan in the very duty that had brought her to the ball.
Father huffed, his chest puffing up. “When I told you that you were going to marry Lord Sinclair, you should’ve been elated and willing to do whatever it took to keep his attention.”
Isobel said nothing, her lips pressing into a tighter line. There was nothing to say. In all the years that she had been dealing with him and his raging, she had learned it was better to stay silent and let the storm pass. Nothing she would do would ever please him as much as screaming at her.
“You’re just going to sit there and not say anything?” Father shook his head, his hands balling into fists.
She flinched, shifting to protect the canvas on the easel behind her. “I’m sorry, Father. I should’ve done better.”
“You’re right. You should’ve. You’re old enough to know how the world works now, Isobel. We needed you to marry Lord Sinclair, but you had to have said or done something to scare him away.”
How is that possible when I barely said a word or two to him before the marriage?
Father sunk into one of the chairs in the corner, burying his face in his hands.
“You should’ve done whatever it took to make him happy.
He was a man who would’ve been willing to look the other way about the dowry.
He would’ve happily taken you and then married you.
He wouldn’t have had a choice at that point. ”
Her jaw dropped before it snapped shut, teeth grinding. What was she supposed to say to that?
Joan entered the room, glancing between the two of them. “What’s happening in here? Father, I thought you had a meeting in town.”
“That was early this morning,” he snapped, glaring at her.
Isobel cleared her throat, schooling her expression into calm she did not feel. “I have faith we’re going to be able to find Joan a husband.”
Father’s attention drew back to her, his frown deepening, eyes narrowing as he pushed out of the chair and stalked over to her. Thankfully, he’s leaving Joan alone.
“You have ruined everything,” Father hissed. “I knew when your mother had you that you were never going to amount to anything, but I couldn’t imagine you were going to disappoint me this much in life.”
Isobel took it in stride, but it would be a lie to say the words didn’t cut a little deeper than she’d like. She was used to it though. The cut would be worn like a badge of honor, a reward for enduring another round of her father’s wrath and not breaking down.
Father crossed to the other side of the room, grabbing Isobel’s favorite hand-painted vase and throwing it at the floral wallpaper on the wall opposite him.
The vase shattered, large chunks raining down to the floor, small chunks flying in all directions.
Isobel bit back the tears. They would only make him angrier.
She bowed her head, shrinking in on herself the way she knew he wanted her to.
Father needed to feel like he was in control.
He needed to be the one lording over the situation with all the control in his hands.
She wouldn’t fight him. Not when he was like this.
Certainly not when Joan was in the room.
Father whipped around to Isobel. “You told me that you were going to help save this family, and you couldn’t do that. You said you were going to take care of Joan. Do you think ruining a marriage is the way to do that? It hadn't even begun and Lord Sinclair couldn’t wait to escape you!”
Isobel let out a quivering breath at the mention of her sister’s future. She knew she had failed. Keeping Joan safe and allowing her to live a life without pressure was the only reason why Isobel agreed to the marriage.
And now, Joan would have the same weight hoisted onto her shoulders.
Father scoffed, his hands clasped behind his back. “This was the one chance we had to make sure the family was going to survive, and you ruined it.”
Joan sighed. “Father, that’s not fair. Isobel hardly knew Lord Sinclair, and she was still going to try and marry him for the family. You can’t blame her when he was the one who changed his mind.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Father rounded on her. “And what have you done for the family? You could marry. You could get a husband with more money than your sister and yet you’ve done nothing.”
“Father!” Isobel flew from her seat, getting in between Father and Joan. “You and I agreed that we would fix this. You promised that Joan didn’t have to be involved.”
“When you can’t do the task you were given, she can.” Father stepped closer to her, a hint of brandy on his breath. “One task is all I gave you, Isobel, and you could hardly do that.”
“One task that even you couldn’t secure!” Isobel snapped, stepping closer to Father, hands balling into fists.
“We never should’ve had you,” Father spat, venom and hatred lacing his words. “If you were a son, I wouldn’t have to deal with your inability to obey your father.”
“Well then I guess you’ll be happy to learn that as soon as Joan is married to a good man, I’ll leave for the monastery, and you won’t have to deal with me again.”
Father laughed, his eyes gleaming. He nearly doubled over with laughter as he shook his head. “If you think you’re going to get away from me, then you’re mistaken.”
“You don’t want me around, so why bother holding onto me?”
“You’ll make me more money at a brothel than you would at a monastery.”
Joan gasped, tears springing to her eyes and a broken sound coming out of her. Isobel couldn’t do anything. She was rooted to the spot, left staring at Father and wondering who he was.
He smirked, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Your mother may have left us years ago, but you at least inherited her beauty. Men will pay a good deal of money for you.”
He had never been a kind man, often using his words and manipulation to cut her down, but not once before had he ever threatened something so horrid. Though, the scent of alcohol on his breath might have aided in the particular cruelty he was displaying.
I’m not safe here. Joan isn’t safe here. I must do something to save Joan. Something that means he’s never going to be able to get his hands on her.
She had no doubt that Father would sell them to work off his debts, and while she could endure that life, Joan wouldn’t be able to.
A knock came at the door before one of the footmen entered the room. “The Duke of Foxdrey is here for you, Lord Leyton.”
Father scowled and tugged down his waistcoat, adjusting his shirt as well. “Send him in at once.”
The footman left the room a moment later before reappearing with the Duke of Foxdrey behind him.
Isobel did her best to avoid making eye contact with the duke, returning her attention to the half-finished canvas.
But when she felt his gaze burn into the side of her head, she looked up. His eyes widened, nostrils flaring.
So he had come.
A strange calm settled over her chest. The waiting—her father’s shouting, his threats, his pacing—was finished. Whatever reckoning was due, it had arrived at last.
Andrew stared at her for a moment, trying to process the woman in front of him. He didn’t know what his wild cat was doing in that house, but he heard the shouting before he walked into the room, the threats of sending her to a brothel echoing through the hall.
His little darling would eat men alive if she was sent to one.
She had to be Lord Leyton’s daughter. There was a familiar pattern of freckles across their cheeks, and she certainly got her height from him, but the similarities ended there.
He plans to sell his daughters to a brothel to settle his debt. What a dreadful man.
Andrew knew little about this family, but he understood plainly that he didn’t want to see her living that kind of life.
He didn’t want that life for any woman that did not choose it for herself.
It wasn’t for women like her who were so full of fire.
They would burn too bright in a dark place like that and then they would eventually lose their light.
I could be her salvation instead of her ruin.
“Leyton,” Andrew said, glancing away from the darling woman who was full of such vim and vigor. “You and I must speak alone. Now.”
“Is this about the conversation we had last night, Your Grace?”
“A continuation of it.” Andrew nodded to the door. “Your study?”
“Oh, yes.” Lord Leyton tugged at his collar, loosening it a little, sweat dripping down his forehead. “But perhaps it would be better to speak with my daughters present. This is a matter that concerns both Isobel and Joan.”
At the mention of her name, Isobel in the corner stiffened, turning her back fully to them and focusing on the canvas in front of her, even though she didn’t reach for the paintbrush at her side.
The other woman—who had to be Joan—perched on a couch close to the hearth, sitting tall and proper. Her skin was pale and there were circles beneath her eyes.
“You don’t want to talk about these matters in front of your daughters,” Andrew said, his tone firm.
Normally, he didn’t care if the family members knew what their husbands or fathers or brothers had gotten them into. A part of him enjoyed the families finally knowing the truth.
But he wanted to spare Isobel.
Though, if he threatened to sell her to a brothel, she likely already knows how bad this is. She knows what he’s done to them and she’s still sitting there like her world isn’t crumbling.
Lord Leyton shook his head. “I’ve been a terrible father to them, but they deserve to know how much I need them in this moment.”
Andrew eyed him, not falling for the apologetic father act. His own father had tried that more than once when he was alive and it only led to more trouble in the end.
“Fine, if you want your daughters to hear all the damage you have caused to their lives, then they may hear it.” Andrew barely spared Lord Leyton a glance. He focused his attention instead on Isobel as she turned around to look at him.
Her eyes narrowed and she sat up taller. Her entire body was stiff, her hands clasped in her lap so tight her knuckles were turning white. She tipped her chin at Andrew slightly, like she was daring him to act as if he knew her.
He fought the urge to step closer, to offer a steadying hand or a quiet word to ease the tension, but he resisted. Now was not the moment for indulgence.
“My daughters could help.” Lord Leyton smiled, chest puffing out as if he was pleased with himself while he clasped his hands behind his back. “They’re beautiful girls, aren’t they, Your Grace?”
Andrew paused for a moment, everything around him coming to a halt. Though he shouldn’t have been surprised at the undertone of the offering based on the brothel threat, he had encountered only one man before who offered up the women in his life on a silver platter.
It had been disgusting then and it was even worse now.
But this could be the way to help Isobel. She wants her freedom. I could give her that and she could assist in fixing my reputation.
“Coin is good, but I could pay you in something else,” Lord Leyton said, a sinister smile curving at the corners of his mouth.
“Father!” Isobel flew off the stool in front of the easel. “You cannot be serious!”
“You’ve done enough,” Lord Leyton hissed, nodding to the stool. “Sit back down, keep quiet, and let the men negotiate.”
“You mean allow you to sell me and Joan as if we’re nothing more than cattle!” Isobel put her hands on her hips, but it looked like she was shaking. “I won’t allow it.”
Lord Leyton sighed. “You can have both for the trouble this one alone is going to cause you. She is the most beautiful of the two, but her temperament leaves something to be desired. Both are untouched which must be enough to cover the cost of my debt.”
“Untouched like a prized horse perfect for breeding.” If looks could kill, Isobel would have her father on the ground, his breathing ceased immediately.
Andrew smothered a smile at her words, knowing it wasn’t time to laugh, but enjoying her fire all the same.
Lord Leyton raised his hand as if to hit her before seeming to remember himself, and return his hand to his side.
“Enough, Leyton!” Andrew despised him. How this man could threaten to sell his daughters, how he would use them as if they were nothing more than pawns in a game, it reminded him far too much of his own father.
“I need only one daughter and I will speak with her alone,” Andrew said, a plan forming.
Isobel tensed. Her amber eyes locked onto his as her lips parted like she was about to offer herself to spare her sister.
She took a step forward, her eyes misting.
Lips pressed together in a tight line and she stood taller with her gaze locked on his.
It was as if she was daring him to do anything other than choose her.
Little did she realize it was her that he wanted. His feral little darling.
“That one.” Andrew nodded to Isobel. “I’ll speak with her in the study.”