Chapter 36
Cynthia
With the maid standing right there, I cannot ask her to leave so that I can extricate the bit of metal firmly lodged in my backside. Desperation claws at my insides as every shift reminds me of the weight and girth I’m forced to carry. How am I to face my parents like this?
To buy extra time, I move slowly, putting each piece back in the box, layering everything with the cloth. I suppose I could beg off to use the privy, but that might make everything even more awkward. Heat infuses my face as I fuss with the box, straightening the cloths.
Still, they lie there in haphazard lumps. Why will they not lie flat? It doesn’t make any sense. The maid remains at the door, watching silently. There’s no judgment in her gaze, only mild curiosity. Though, with her training, she says nothing.
The silence only makes all this even worse. Groaning, I cast the box aside with gentle movements and rise, smoothing down my morning dress with my hands.
“Must I go?” I whimper as my stomach churns.
She gives me a sympathetic look. “I cannot order you to do anything. If it pleases you, I can tell them that you are ill and have taken to your bed?”
The idea does have merit. However, I’ll have to face them sooner or later. I’d rather now before the wedding so that this nasty business doesn’t spill over. Shaking my head, I make my way to the door, my steps stilted and odd.
I’m not sure how I’ll be able to walk to Charles tomorrow and have no one know. This should be good practice, even if it is humiliating because it’s my parents. Groaning, I place a shaky hand on the banister and make my way down.
As I reach the parlor, I look inside. Father sits there, his demeanor calm and placid. Mother, however, paces to and fro, her cheeks already pink from the anger I know is boiling inside.
“Miss Campbell,” the footman announces, drawing their gaze up to me. As if he needed to declare my presence at all. The moment Mother knows I’m there, I’ll not need anyone telling her.
“Cynthia Margaret Campbell,” she screeches, storming over to me. “What were you thinking?”
“Now, now,” Father soothes. “Give our daughter a moment to collect herself. I imagine it’s been a few days fraught with unease.”
I cast my father a soft, grateful smile, but he does not return it. He must be quite wroth indeed. Looking down at my waist, I pick at the small threads coming undone, giving my fingers something to do.
“Well?” my mother demands. “What have you to say for yourself?”
“There is no defense. I- I’m not really sure how it happened. It was all so fast-”
“Fast. Exactly what a whore would say.”
I reel back, her words stinging me as if she had struck me. Father continues to sit there, hands folded over his stomach, saying nothing. Tears spring to my eyes, but I hold them back.
“I did nothing untoward.”
“Nothing? A perfectly viable match sends your father a missive in the morning saying it is impossible to marry you. That’s nothing? Unless there are other secrets you keep hidden that we don’t know about. Is that it? Did he ferret out something that makes you unable to marry?”
Off in the distance, Thomas wails, putting into sound the way my soul screams to the heavens. “But I am able to marry. The duke-”
“The duke who ruined you? The duke who is only marrying you because society dictates it? That duke? How could someone in his position possibly want someone like you?”
Her words stab at my heart, and I raise my hand to place it on my chest, doing my best to staunch the pain. There are no words I can give. No defense I have to offer.
Didn’t Charles make it a point to not be by my side? To not ask for my hand in the beginning when we both seemed to crave each other? Is it possible Mother knows something I don’t? I didn’t think Charles was a man who’d move out of guilt, but it would explain most everything.
But the letters… No one marrying just for guilt would write such missives with that much passion. That, and the only other thing I can cling to is knowing he asked for my hand well before this. It has to mean something. Right?
“But he asked-”
Mother strides over to me, her eyes narrowed. Leaning forward, she sniffs, then backs up, looking at me with such hatred and horror that it makes my blood run cold. Before I can ask her what the matter is, she smacks me hard across the face, sending me sprawling to the floor.
“Harlot,” she spits out. “You’ve trapped him.”
“Harriet,” Father growls, yet doesn’t condemn her.
“That is quite enough,” a loud roar greets my ears, causing me to turn in on myself as I make my body as small as possible. Unfortunately, it causes the dilator to shift a bit and rub against areas of my internal anatomy that should not feel this good during such a circumstance.
I hold my whimpers at bay as Joseph Harding strides into the room, his body bristling with full Alpha fury. “You will hold your hand and your tongue if you know what’s good for you,” he snarls.
At this, Father finally leaves his chair and stands between him and my mother. “You will not address my wife like that, Your Grace. What happens between us and our daughter is no concern of yours.”
Joseph steps over me, putting his body in between as a buffer. “It does when it happens in my house to the woman who is marrying one of my good friends, a woman who is like a sister to me and my wife. Miss Campbell is under my protection, and I take such matters seriously.”
“You don’t understand,” Mother sputters. “She is to go into heat. Your friend, the duke, doesn’t love her. He was trapped under her spell.”
Heat. No. Oh no. Not now. Not when my wedding is tomorrow. I’m not ready. How? How is it now, when I never showed any signs of it before? None of it makes sense.
Joseph turns his head toward me, the muscle in his jaw jumping.
Now he’s furious with me too, over something that isn’t even my fault.
“And were you not to supply her with suppressants then? She came to us with nothing. I believed there was an understanding, especially knowing how her nuptials were fast approaching.”
“You blame me, Your Grace?” my mother squeaks as she takes a step back. “Look to the harlot on the floor. If she didn’t take them, that’s a fault of hers.”
Again, he looks at me, but his eyes are kind. “Miss Campbell, were you given any pills to take? From your mother or otherwise?”
“N- no, Your Grace.”
“And is there a reason for that?”
“I- I have none. To my knowledge, I have never once taken a pill to suppress things. I thought I was defective.”
He frowns and looks back at my parents. “There is something amiss here. How is it that she is over the age of coming out yet has not had a heat nor anything to suppress it?”
I stare at the floor, mulling over his words. Wasn’t my scent barely there? Isn’t that one reason my season started so late? An odd cramping wracks my body as I lie there, doing my best to think.
Nothing changed. Just the location. Mother was furious that the dowager duchess wanted me in her home to prepare for the wedding, but why? Closing my eyes, I think back to the first morning there.
Freedom. Family. Friendship. It was everything I’d dreamt of and more. The delicious warmed chocolate without that odd taste… wait. The warming chocolate.
“The warmed chocolate,” I rasp out. “What was different with the chocolate?”
Mother’s face turns pale as she takes a step back. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Harriet,” Father hedges. “What is our daughter talking about?”
“Our daughter?” she cackles, her face morphing into something I’d only see in a nightmare. “Our daughter? No. She is no spawn of mine.”
Pain lashes my insides at her words. It was a kiss. Just one kiss. “Please,” I croak out. “I didn’t-”
“Do not talk to me. I married your father for love. But you were his first love. Not me. Never me. When that bitch of a woman-”
“Harriet. You will be silent.”
“I will not,” she screams.
Teresa flies in, her face pale as she slides down to the floor next to me to gather me into her arms and rock me back and forth. Such kindness. Such warmth.
I curl my fingers around her forearms, clutching her close as tears burn my eyes. Father and… mother? I cannot tell now. They fight in this grand parlor, so much more vastly opulent than their own.
Not my mother. A stranger. A woman who never wanted me. Never cared for me. And why? Because my father doted upon me? Because he loved me?
Father pushes her away and comes to my side, arms open, but I refuse to move. Teresa never had an agenda. She only ever loved me as a sister. She only ever cared for me and delighted in my company.
The pain on his face is evident, but he doesn't press the issue. Instead, he looks at Harriet, his visage twisted into rage. “Quit this house, madam. I will deal with you at home.”
“Wait,” Joseph barks out. “I will know what you put in her drink. The duke will want an heir. If you’ve damaged that hope in any way…”
The woman cackles as she glares at me, venom shooting from her eyes. “The bitch will be prime for fucking. May they have as many bastards as her body will allow.”
This time, Father looks at her with a mix of fear and horror. What could be so wrong, so twisted as to cause this? He grips her arms and pulls her forward, snarling with an Alpha growl that I’ve never heard from him before.
Teresa, Harriet, and I collapse to the floor under the weight of it. Joseph drops to a knee and holds his body aloft, caging his wife and me in, keeping us both protected in such a vulnerable state.
“To Bedlam with her,” he snarls.
My father, pale and distraught, merely nods, unable to do anything more.
The woman continues to rant and rave, spittle dripping from her lips as he drags her out.
The moment his growl is gone, Teresa hugs me tight, holding me in her arms as she rocks me back and forth, soothing me in such a motherly way that I cannot help but sob into her shoulder.
All these years. Every single day. I thought she hated me. I thought she despised me. She was right. And the pain hurts so much more now that the truth is revealed.
Pulling away, I wipe my eyes. “Am I not to marry now?” I whimper.
“Oh my dear, sweet one. Why would you think that? Norhaven will still have you despite that woman’s vitriol. Nothing can make him love you less.”
“But I trapped him. I… my heat… I didn’t know. How could I have known?”
She hugs me again as Joseph places a brotherly hand on my shoulder.
“You are not so far gone that there is need to worry. If that were the case, he would have attacked you in the library, committing unholy acts for all to see instead of the kiss I bore witness to. You did not trap him. He’s been besotted with you from the very beginning.
We were all just too foolish to see it.”
I blink up at him, hopeful. “He… he truly loves me then?”
“Never doubt it. Do not let that woman poison your marriage. He loves you. Has always loved you. Will always love you. Now then, I’m sure Charles will agree that you are not to step one more foot into that house.
It is not safe for you there. Not until you’re married and fully under his protection.
I will write to him at once to relay what has happened here. ”
“But what will happen to Mother- I mean, Harriet?”
“That is between her and your father. Possibly Charles, if he has anything to say about it.”
“But my possessions. What will happen to them?” Fear and longing grip my heart as I picture all my things destroyed or left.
“Fear not. Charles will make arrangements to get them. Anything you hold dear, he does as well.”
Turning, I give Teresa a look, hoping to convey my concern through my expression. “Yes, but there are some things that only a woman should see. What then?”
“Can his sisters procure them for you?” Joseph asks, fully oblivious. Just the way I want him to be.
“No. I’d rather they not see my personal effects. Can Teresa, or perhaps Augusta, or Alessandra fetch them?”
He narrows his gaze at me, studying my expression. “The very fact that you mention these three makes me believe it is something scandalous in nature. Something you ought not possess in the first place?”
Teresa reaches forward and places a hand on his forearm.
“Women are allowed to keep their own secrets, my love.” With a smile, she turns back to me.
“You do know all will be revealed when Norhaven bonds with you, anyway. Right? There should not be secrets between you two this early into your relationship.”
Joseph snorts and crosses his arms. “Fine advice, wife.”
“I’m ensuring their marriage starts in a far less tumultuous way than ours, husband.”
The two laugh as I rest upon Teresa’s shoulder. Warmth and love surround me as they continue to chuckle, their affection evident in every smile, every giggle, and every touch.
With a love like this as an example, I don’t see why Charles and I can’t have a marriage like this. Once I am wed, everything will be well.