Chapter 21 #2
She bent her head to hide her tears, but he wouldn’t let her, tipping up her chin so he could look at her. When he saw the tears in her eyes, he swore under his breath. “Obviously not a silly nothing.”
That was all it took for the tears to escape and flow freely down her cheeks.
Looking stricken, he gathered her up in his arms and moved to sit on the bed where he could cradle her on his lap. “There, there, querida.” He stroked her back, her hair, her arms. “You mustn’t cry. He can’t hurt you again.”
“I know.” She rubbed away the tears and cursed the melancholy that made her so weepy at this time of the month. “I’m not afraid of him.”
Ian pressed soft, penitent kisses into her hair. “What did he do? And where was your father? Why wasn’t he protecting you?”
“You mustn’t think it was Papa’s fault. He was always so engrossed in his work that he never noticed the men’s advances.”
Ian stared at her, a mixture of horror and disbelief on his face. “Men’s? Pelham wasn’t the only one? What did they do? How did it happen—”
“Truly, it’s not as bad as it sounds.” She lifted her face to his. “Papa took me along when he visited his employers, and occasionally ... one of them or their sons were a bit forward, that’s all.”
“That’s all?” His jaw tautened and his eyes sparked fire. “Tell me who hurt you, and I swear I’ll—”
“No one did anything more than steal a kiss or two,” she lied, alarmed by his sudden fury. “You know yourself I was a virgin when we made love.”
“Yes, but there are more ways to hurt a woman than to take her virginity. Pelham must have been cruel indeed if you feel compelled to write like this about him. I told you—I know you. You don’t show your claws heedlessly.”
She shrugged and bent her head, but he grasped her by the shoulders. “Tell me, Felicity. What did Pelham do to you?”
She’d wanted for so long to tell someone everything, and Ian had caught her in a weak moment. The words poured out of her. “He cornered me in the library at his estate. Papa didn’t need me at the moment, so I’d gone there to read.”
The image shot instantly into her mind ...
Pelham entering the room, the nasty smile that had spread over his face, the way he’d trapped her in the armchair with his thick body.
She went on, almost in a trance, “His kiss so took me by surprise that I didn’t at first react, but when he ...
he put his hands inside my bodice, I slapped him.
” Which had done nothing, of course, except make him laugh and squeeze her breasts cruelly.
But she couldn’t tell Ian that. “That was the end of it.”
“Put his hands— Damn him, I’ll put my hands inside his breeches and tear off his balls! Better yet, I’ll put my hands around his throat!”
“No! It was long ago, Ian. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Clearly, it does.” He gazed into her face. “And I know Pelham. A slap wouldn’t deter him.”
She glanced away, unable to lie again.
“Tell me the rest, querida,” he coaxed.
“There’s not much else to tell. He grabbed my hand and forced it against his breeches. So I ... I squeezed him as hard as I could and he yelped. Thankfully, that brought his wife. She burst in just as he drew back his hand to hit me.”
“My God,” he said hoarsely. “You made a narrow escape.”
Yes, she had, hadn’t she? She hadn’t thought of it before, but it was true.
Everything could have been worse. Pelham hadn’t taken her virtue.
He hadn’t even gotten the chance to really hurt her.
Yet she’d nursed her grievance against him and his wife for years, letting it—and other incidents—color her perception to the point that she’d regarded every man of rank with suspicion. How foolish.
“I wish I’d been there to see his wife give him a dressing down,” Ian added.
“The only person she gave a dressing down was me.” Strangely enough, however, she spoke the words with no rancor.
It was as if telling Ian about it vanquished its power to hurt her.
“Lady Pelham marched me right off to Papa, announcing that I was a wanton and a flirt and that he ought to cane me soundly.”
“That little bitch!”
She laughed. “You don’t mince words, do you?”
“I don’t have to.” He clutched her to him. “I don’t write for the public. If I’d written your column, I’d have been far more ungenerous to the woman than you were.”
Her column. She’d forgotten all about it. “I shouldn’t have put that in tonight, not when I’m feeling ... unwell. You’re right about its being personal. I’m usually less overtly antagonistic, even when I write about Papa’s old patrons, but tonight I was testy.”
“And I’m sure I didn’t help by being an ‘arrogant and unfeeling ass.’”
She groaned. “I shouldn’t have called you that.”
“It was true. I’ve been as bad as Pelham.”
“No!”
“Yes. I kissed you against your will, and I attacked you at the Worthings—”
“You did not attack me!” She gazed into his remorseful eyes.
She wouldn’t let him reproach himself in this manner.
“It was entirely different with you. I liked what you did. Pelham made me feel dirty and cheap. You made me feel desirable. And when you withdrew, as an honorable man should, you convinced me that not all men of rank are like Pelham.”
His eyes glittered. “But I seduced you a week later. I—”
She placed her finger against his lips to silence him. “I won’t let you speak of yourself in the same breath with him. You’re nothing like Pelham, I tell you! You never forced me to give my body to you. I chose that myself. And I don’t regret it.”
Her fervent tone must have convinced him. But it did something more, something she hadn’t counted on. She felt the change in him even before he lowered his head.