Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
“Iam not asking you to postpone our engagement, cousin; I am asking you to cancel it,” Ellen stated.
It was the next day, and after spending all night thinking about her refusal of the Duke of Blackford’s offer to help, she had decided to help herself.
Benedict looked up at her from his chair, his face a mask of calm as he laid down his pen atop his desk and sat back.
“Sweet, naive Ellie. You do not know what you are asking,” Benedict replied, using that same patronizing tone he’d used the night before. “I swore to your father that I would protect you. Marriage is the most logical way to do that.”
Ellen fisted her hands in frustration.
“But we are cousins, Benedict!” she said with clear exasperation. “First cousins! We were raised together as family.”
“And we will further cement that bond with a marriage,” Benedict answered with a shrug of his shoulders. Nobles have married their cousins for centuries; it is not so big a scandal as you make it sound.”
“It is to me,” she insisted, feeling that now-familiar pain twist in her gut. “Benedict,” she pleaded, daring a step toward his desk. “I do not want to marry you. I love you, yes, but not in the way a wife loves a husband.”
His gaze hardened as he stood up and came around his desk to face her.
“You will. In time. You just have to become used to the subtle shift,” he replied, his voice less pitiful than before.
“No, I will not! The very idea makes me…unwell. I—Ahh!” Her words cut off with a sharp gasp as Benedict gripped her chin with a painful quickness.
“Do not say that. Ever again,” he warned, his cold blue eyes boring into hers. She tried to wrench away, but his grip only tightened. “Do you hear me? This marriage is happening. You have no choice.”
“Benedict, let go,” she cried, trying and failing once more to break free from his grip. “You are hurting me!”
“For your own good,” he spat. “You must learn to obey me.”
“Benedict, please!” she sobbed, her jaw beginning to throb under his grip.
“Say it,” he snarled softly, bringing his lips dangerously close to hers. “Say you will obey.”
“I will,” she sobbed, tears escaping down her cheeks. “I will. Just let me go. Please.”
A mad smile broke across Benedict’s lips as he heard her pleas, and just as quickly as he had snatched her jaw, he released it.
“There’s a good girl,” Benedict praised, turning his back to her as she cupped her hands over her pained jaw and chin. “Now run along. I have scheduled an appointment for you at the bridal modiste. I would not want you to miss it. Your friend Judith is going to meet you there.”
A tremble of panic moved through Ellen’s spine.
“Judith?” she whispered.
“Yes,” Benedict moved, his gaze back on his papers, “I opened a message from her by accident this morning, thinking it was one for me. She expressed her deep hurt for not being invited to our engagement dinner last night. I wrote back and took full blame, letting her know it was I who organized the event. As an apology, I offered to purchase her a pretty dress for our wedding. Her response was rather quick, and she seemed very forgiving.”
“You…you opened my letter?” she asked. “Spoke to my friend?”
Benedict looked up at her, that cold blue seeping into her veins.
“Your friends are our friends now, are they not?” he asked with a raised brow.
When Ellen did not respond, he set down his pen and folded his hands together as he leaned forward and held her gaze.
“As for the opening of ‘your’ letter,” he stated matter of factly, “I am the Lord of this house now and, by extension, you. You might not be my wife yet, but until that time you are my ward. Anything that comes into this house is subject to my approval.”
Trapped. She was trapped, she realized, by the man she’d once called a friend.
A man that was once, not all that long ago, so very kind and courteous when he would come to visit.
She was not sure what had changed him. Not sure if he had changed or if his true self had been hidden from view until now.
Whatever had happened, Ellen had lost her faith—and her love—for her cousin, and she knew, with absolutely certainty, that she needed to escape him.
“Well of course I was positively offended,” Judith said as she and Ellen wandered through the rows of white laces, ribbons, and fabrics.
“After all I have done for you and then to not receive an invitation to the only party—your engagement party of all things—you have hosted in years? Well, I was positively taken aback by your actions! After all, I am your friend, and I find this out through the morning gossip papers?”
Ellen’s fear deepened as Judith clicked her tongue in distaste and shot her a scolding look.
“But then I received your cousin’s letter and he explained the entire mishap,” she went on, her voice lilting toward amusement as she turned back to the wares.
“He was so gentlemanly with his apology, and obviously so sincerely sorry about overlooking me that I, of course, had to forgive him! And you, of course.”
“Judith,” Ellen said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Such a generous gentleman, this cousin of yours,” Judith prattled on, “Paying for a shopping day for you and your friend? And a romantic, too! I shall tell you, the letter he sent me positively reeks of a lovestruck man! And here I thought that you were going to be a spinster all your life. I suppose it is good you ran away from the masquerade after all. Though I did not appreciate how you left me worrying for you.”
“I am sorry,” she breathed, her cheeks turning pink as she once more thought of the man she’d kissed. A man she would forever keep a secret, even from Judith. She needed something. Just one little, bright moment of freedom to hold onto.
“Good day, ladies!”
The modiste’s greeting was bubbly and warm as she seemingly popped up out of nowhere among the shelves of white.
“Good day,” Ellen and Judith replied in unison.
“I do apologize to keep you waiting! My name is Madame Tilde and this is my shop. Are you Lord Highcastle’s betrothed?”
“She is!” Judith said excitedly, pressing her hand to Ellen’s shoulder as she smiled widely.
“Oh, you lucky lady, you!” the modiste cooed. “Your betrothed was most serious in his letter that I should take the best care of you! Not all men do that, you know—involve themselves in the wedding affairs.”
Ellen lifted her lips in the direction of a smile but only made it about halfway.
A fresh wave of pain started to ebb from her jaw.
Benedict’s touch had left red marks on her chin; she and Sarah had been forced to figure out how to apply the heavy cosmetic paint Judith had left behind from the masquerade party.
“That is what I keep telling her!” Judith answered for her yet again. “Oh, but she’s a strange one. Shy in front of strangers, yet so capable in her own home!”
Judith’s smile seemed strained and overly fond as she looked up at Ellen.
“She has no idea how blessed she is to be marrying at all, let alone someone as doting as her betrothed.”
Annoyance and hurt laced through Ellen as she heard her friend’s condescending words.
“Madame Tilde, would you mind if we browsed the fabrics a bit more? I want to choose before we move on to the design,” Ellen said politely, finally able to feign a smile.
“Of course, of course, ladies! Please take your time. I have blocked out the rest of my afternoon for you,” Madame Tilde answered. “I shall be in the back warming you with some tea and refreshments.”
Ellen thanked her and waited until the modiste was no longer in earshot. Then turned to Judith, who was already rolling her eyes.
“Oh, look, I know I sounded a bit harsh there, but—”
“No, you are right,” Ellen cut her off. “It is a bit strange that someone like Benedict wants to marry me, don’t you think?”
She stepped closer and lowered her voice.
“He is my cousin, Judith. My first cousin! He is handsome and wealthy of his own doing, so why would he settle for marrying someone like me? Someone who you say is strange in nature, especially when he could have any highborn lady he wanted?”
Judith’s brows furrowed as she gripped Ellen’s arm.
“You of all people, my dear friend, should not be looking a gift horse in the mouth,” Judith whispered. “So what if he is your cousin? As you said he is handsome and wealthy and he wants to take care of you!”
“But what about what I want?” Ellen asked, feeling her discomfort growing by the second. “I do not want to marry him, Judith. He is family! And, in truth, he is behaving so differently than the boy I grew up with. He used to be so kind…now he has these moments of harshness.”
“All men have those,” Judith sighed, as if she and every other woman in the world knew such a thing, “You just have to be sweet to make it up to him and the harshness will pass.”
“You are not hearing me, Judith,” Ellen insisted, feeling her stomach twist painfully again. “I do not want to marry him! Something is not right!”
Ellen’s words ended with a sharp gasp as Judith suddenly grabbed her upper arms and pressed her into the nearby wall of lace, her narrowed eyes locked on Ellen.
“Listen to me,” Judith said with strained politeness, “I say this as your friend. You have no other choices. You allowed yourself to age out of the marriage mart so you could take care of your father and his house. No one else wants you, and now that your father is gone and has left not even so much as a dowry, you will be forced into one of two lives if you do not marry Lord Highcastle.”
Judith lifted one of her hands from Ellen’s arms and held up a finger.
“You will sell your dresses and jewelry to pay for a tiny little space in a board house for a time, but eventually money will run out, and you will become homeless.”
Judith held up a second finger.
“You pledge your life to God, and go and live in a convent full of women who, like you, missed their chance at companionship for one petty reason or another. Now tell me, Ellen, do you prefer either of those choices? Do you want to abandon the comforts you’ve always known for a life of hardship?”
Ellen blanched. Not because Judith had a valid point, but because she sounded just like Benedict did the night before.
She took in her friend’s stern look, her tight grip on her upper arm, and silently wondered if Judith was better suited for Benedict than she was.
For, she now understood, they both had an undercurrent of cruelty beneath their pretty exteriors.
“You are right, of course,” Ellen replied. “I am being silly. I should marry Benedict.”
The lie came smooth and readily, as if every part of her knew it was necessary. She would find a way out. She would just have to do it on her own.
Judith looked at her suspiciously.
“You have come to your senses?” she asked.
Ellen nodded.
Judith’s smile was one of satisfaction as she let go of Ellen’s arm and took a step back. She then called for Madame Tilde, and while the two discussed fabrics and buttons and ribbons, Ellen silently began to plan her escape.