Chapter 17

"You may now kiss the bride," the bishop said.

Harry proceeded to slant his lips over Amelia's, planting a sweet kiss. The applause and hoots from the crowd startled them back to reality and they turned to the rest of the church with identical blushes on their cheeks.

Daphne was so happy for her sister and considering all the drama that had occurred in the days leading up to the wedding, she was grateful that the ceremony was a success and Amelia, her sweet sister, was now officially a married woman.

Her parents would be ecstatic that at least one of their daughters was off the marriage market. They had matching wide smiles and held each other as they both cried when the couple said their vows.

She was supposed to be overjoyed but she couldn't quite shake the feeling of melancholy that had plagued her since her discussion with Victor the night before.

It hadn't helped that the seating arrangements at the church had forced her to sit beside Percy and endure his commentary about different members of the ton present as the ceremony progressed.

In some part of her mind, the little girl she had once been kept wondering how her beloved childhood friend had changed. How had Percy gone from the sweet boy he once was to this man? The man she was now to spend the rest of her life with…

The whole night, she'd tossed and turned as her mind plagued her with conversations she'd had in an attempt to dissuade her heart from pushing her to call off the engagement which she was seriously considering the more she looked at her sister and brother-in-law.

They were a love match, and if anything, she wanted more than just blandness from her own marriage. Having experienced the pleasure that Victor had wrought on her body with his hands and lips, she didn't want to imagine Percy seeing or touching her so intimately — she didn't trust him like that.

She replayed his words to her that night about how Victor would only use her body, but she didn't even mind that when compared to a loveless and passionless future she saw stretching out before her.

His words had hurt but she agreed that they might not have hurt as much if they were untrue. Even while she enjoyed the pleasures that Victor effortlessly wrought on her body, some part of her mind reminded her that it was a transient experience and that in a few weeks, she would just be another notch on his bedpost.

She initially thought she understood this and that she could carry on the feigned courtship with him for her sister's sake. To carry on without getting her heart involved either. However, the feelings she developed for him with every encounter had proved her to be a liar. And now, she was bearing the consequences of her actions.

When the wedding ceremony ended and the couple descended the aisle smiling widely at the guests, her heart tightened in longing. There was so much contentment and joy on her sister's face. She wished she could have it for herself.

"This could have been us a few weeks ago at our own wedding, happily anticipating our beautiful future together. But you chose to be stubborn and wasted time with that bastard who has raked his way through half of Europe. I am glad you have come to your senses." Percy whispered proudly into her ear. "Our wedding will be a lot more lavish than this. I promise you that."

A red tide of anger blanketed her vision and she turned sharply towards Percy. The look of surprise on his face pacified some of her anger and she fled the church before she succumbed to the almost overwhelming urge to slap the annoying look off his face. She didn't want to bring scandal to her sister's wedding after all the trouble the couple had gone through to avoid it.

With every day that had passed, Percy had revealed even more annoying sides to him that she wondered how she'd cope with for the rest of her life.

At this point, she didn't want to marry at all. She just needed some time away from everything to think. If she stayed in that hall for a second longer, she would explode in the most unpleasant way.

She fled the hall until her feet stopped in front of the family's library. She went in, curled herself up on the sofa, and then proceeded to cry out her frustration.

Today was her sister's wedding. Daphne was supposed to be there for her, cheering her up, and helping make sure everything for the wedding breakfast went according to plan. But she had to admit that in the emotional state she was in, she was no good to anyone. She would just cast a sad pall on an otherwise bright and joyful day.

Melanie would just have to fill in for her. Considering her cousin's overly cheerful personality, she would suffice since she was able to summon up more excitement than three people could. Daphne sighed with a slight smile curving her lips. Amelia would be fine, she was sure of it.

But for herself, she hardly knew.

* * *

"Finally," Victor sighed as he spied the top of his family's estate in the distance.

The journey from Harry's estate to his had taken longer than he'd expected, and he was feeling even wearier than he'd been when he'd left.

He got off the carriage before it even slid to a stop and climbed the few steps to get into the castle.

"Welcome home, Your Grace," his butler, Mr. Killian, greeted.

Mr. Killian had served his family for many years. His hair was now completely gray.

"Thank you, Killian." He smiled at the man. "How are your old bones today?"

"They are thankfully better." He smiled.

He nodded and walked to his study, deciding to get started on any work he had that his man of affairs wouldn't have taken care of in his absence.

He stumbled back in shock seeing his mother already sitting in his chair in the study when he stepped in.

"What are you doing here, Mother?" he asked. "When did you get here?"

"A few hours ago," she answered, glaring at him. "I knew you'd be a pigheaded fool, so I decided to come and talk some sense into you before you ruined everything."

"Mother what?—"

"I am talking about Daphne," she snapped.

He had not heard her name uttered in hours and had forgotten just how wild that single word drove him.

"How can you give up on her so easily?"

Easily?

It was not easy getting into that carriage. It was not easy watching how depressed she was on the announcement of their marriage. It was not easy leaving her behind when his heart clawed in his chest to be reunited with hers.

Nothing had ever been easy since the day he was born. Daphne, however, had been his most wearing challenge.

"I thought you liked her?"

"I do?—"

It was a risk saying it out loud. He couldn't take it back once uttered. It would become all too real. "Mother, I really do not want to talk about this anymore." He made to leave but his mother snapped at him.

"If you keep living this life of isolation you will end up just like him." She steadied her weight on his desk. Her eyes softened and she shakily settled into the chair. "I do not mean to be so harsh, but I cannot watch my son become a living corpse."

Her words stung. It was a direct jab, ripping open wounds he had barely managed to keep closed.

He wasn't willingly living the way he did, but every time he tried to escape his father, it felt as though he was always there. His claws pressed into his back. His back still burned on some days, each cicatrix held a memory. A gut-wrenching reminder of what his father had done.

The wounds would eventually heal. One day, he would forget what pain was. But without the burning to give him purpose, he knew exactly what he would become. Who he would become.

No matter how he tried to deny it, he was his father's son.

"You're nothing like your father. You are my son." She read the conflict on his face. She had the skill. After years of avoiding speaking, she learned to read every one of his expressions. She understood his posture, every quirk of his lips meant something and she accurately predicted his feelings. She had said his eyes always betrayed what he was thinking but in all honesty, she had been resigned to his silence for so long that she had to grasp at any measure to understand her son.

"He has made you bleed all the Anderson blood in you. Now, you possess only my blood." She was determined and indignation laced her words.

"I care too much about her to risk it. I will hurt her." He was sure.

"And you think what you're doing is shielding her from any pain?"

He flinched.

The way Daphne had looked at him the evening she left his room… He could tell he had hurt her. Tears were brimming in her eyes. But it was necessary. A necessary pain to avoid disaster. Yet it felt gut-wrenchingly awful.

He had wanted to take her into his arms and promise to never hurt her. He wanted to make her stay in that room with him forever. They would do nothing but embrace one another. They could have had peace there. Nothing could have angered him, nothing could have hurt her.

It was too whimsical to dream.

"It's more bearable than what my father inflicted upon you." His tone was harsh and he saw how his words invited the ghost of the late duke to wrap around her.

The dowager was strong, she shrugged it off and it hissed. "You will not lay your hands on her. I am certain of it."

"That's not the only thing he did to you."

His father's cheating was a respite from the torture. It gave them a break from him. They welcomed it, but it was also a trait that could have been passed down to him. What if he started looking at other women after he'd married Daphne? He had never wanted any other woman since meeting her, but the specter of his father hung right above him. In his solitude, he wouldn't have to fight the urges. There would be no one to protect. No one to harm.

He was tired. Tired of being him. Tired of being his father's son. His fears were a weight on his shoulders. A rope around his neck, endlessly choking him.

"It's the only way I can protect her," he said this more to himself than to his mother.

His resolve was waning. He wanted her, wanted to deserve her. He wanted the assurance that one day he would. The scars on his back were the biggest sign that he would never deserve her.

"I intend to rid myself entirely from her life."

"But what about your happiness?" she asked.

She was a mother. She believed he came first, and was deserving. If she wasn't his mother, she would have thought otherwise. Her judgment was clouded by love.

"I will survive. I always have."

Cold and resigned. He was used to those feelings. Everyone was safe when he wasn't feeling. Daphne would be safe far away from him.

"Why can't you let yourself be loved?" He turned away; she read his eyes too well.

The Dowager still didn't understand after everything she'd been through. It wasn't fair to gamble with someone's life, someone's happiness. She had been a result of that gamble.

"When I am dead, I want you to swear over my grave that you'll find a wife."

"Mother…"

"I am not a good person, I know that. It took me too long to protect you. Too long to rid you of him."

"You did your best."

"No, I should have done it quicker," her breath quickened, her chest heaving in pants. "I should have run a blade into his chest the first day he laid his hands on you, I should have killed him quicker."

Victor's eyes widened. She had spoken with so much venom that it couldn't have just been angry splutters.

"What are you telling me?"

"I risked my life to make sure I gave you one."

Shock. Apprehension. Judgment. The feelings swirled in a macabre pool of emotions. She had killed his father? No, he died of natural causes. It was in the reports. His mother would never have. She was a sweet, innocent woman.

"I had to." Her fists clenched. "No one was coming to save us. I had to kill him to protect you. It was hard deciding to do it. I cried myself to sleep knowing I was becoming a monster, but you were the most important thing to me. His life was the most important thing to him."

"How did you do it?"

"I poisoned him. Every day, in his tea, his water, his food, I added a little poison."

"You're lying."

She shook her head.

"I watched you, every time you served him, he gave you the first taste."

"I always took the antidote, but I was slowly building an immunity to it. That's why I have been sick for so long."

He perused her troubled face and the fragility of her body. She was suffering. She was withering. He hadn't known all this time. She lived under his roof, and he never knew she was battling her own demons. Why hadn't she told him?

He didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve it.

"Don't worry about me. I will live. Old age will take me first." She read his eyes again. "I am not saying this to plunge you into guilt. I did what any mother would do. I am not sick because of you. None of this is your fault." Her assurance fell on deaf ears. "But please, I want you to live a happy life, to get married and have a family which you love the way I love you. There may be monsters trying to destroy your family, but they will never be you. You will protect your family the way that I protected you."

He wanted it. He wanted to feel love. He wanted Daphne. He needed Daphne. He wanted to marry her.

He loved her.

"I love her," he said.

Daphne's laugh was the best gift to man, the sound was an angel's chorus. His heart skipped a beat whenever the sound escaped her lips. Her hands in his hair… her soft tender fingers, her gentleness…

He loved the eccentric books she read. He loved her stubbornness. In a world of placid and complacent people, Daphne was vibrant.

His mother's face lit up. "That's good."

He could have her. Maybe, maybe if he tried hard enough, maybe…

Suddenly, the dowager erupted in a fit of coughs, and he rushed to her side, a handkerchief in hand.

"Are you all right?" Worry etched across his forehead.

She tried to speak but the fit wasn't over. He yelled for Killian to bring her a glass of water. She greedily drank the liquid. After the fit, she looked positively aged. "I am fine. I hadn't realized how parched I was."

"You should rest, do not strain your health with matters that do not concern you."

"My son's happiness is my only concern." She held his gaze determinedly. She was no longer the weak woman suffering from bouts of dehydration. "And I would do anything to ensure you have a happy ending."

"Farton is the perfect match. There's no gamble being with him." His mother glared at him.

It was a fool's task trying to convince his mother. Once her mind was made up, there was no changing it. The problem however was to convince himself. Farton would make her happy. She might not love him at the moment but with time, after she'd forgotten about Victor, after they had shared their marital bed?—

His hands balled into fists at the thought of another man having his hands all over her. His Daphne. She would touch him, moan his name, she'd let him inside her.

He hissed and tried to shake the thoughts out of his head. But the scene vividly perforated his mind.

"How did I raise you to be so selfless and so daft at the same time?" The dowager got up from the desk and took his hands in hers. Her eyes were pleading.

Staring into her face didn't do much to weaken his resolve. Her face hadn't completely healed. There were cuts that hadn't properly healed; her nose was slightly misshapen from when his father's fist had broken it.

"Farton might never hit her, he might claim to love her, but he would never honor their marital bed. Their first engagement was broken because he couldn't respect Daphne enough not to wait a couple of years before he started chasing skirts."

"How do you know this?" He was filled with disgust.

"Everyone does." The ton must be laughing at her. "It's a common occurrence. No one bats an eye any longer."

She continued. "Farton would get his heir from her and then return to the brothels. He might not even exert himself that far. Men now bed their maids."

He knew Farton always had his eye on every skirt that passed him. Even when Daphne was near him.

Victor gritted his teeth. He had watched her stare at him with distaste every time he came into the room.

She couldn't marry him. She didn't want to. Percy would never fight his impulses. Percy would never see anything wrong with his impulses. Victor would. He would fight night and day to keep her safe. He would live his life just to be good to her. He could give her love. He could give her children which they would raise together.

She could never have with Farton what she and he did. Percy never got the same look she gave him. She wouldn't willingly go to his bed. He would force her, and she would not enjoy it. Farton was egotistical and shameless. He flirted unabashedly with whoever was available. She was sunshine, brightening up his dark worlds. Her rays would vanish if she remained with Farton. She would lose her light. That couldn't happen.

He now understood the look in her eyes when Farton had gloated about their marriage. She was pleading. Begging for him to save her, but in his pride and anger, he had abandoned her. He couldn't let her marry Percy. He would save her before Farton latched his claws into her.

He would give her a fortune and her freedom. Free to start her life over again.