Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

AUGUSTA

M y head feels muddled as I open my eyes, blinking against the sun streaming into the windows. Fragments of memories crash through my skull, but none of them seem to make any sense. I remember the punishment, but then little else.

Glancing under the sheets, I note my shift is well in place. Did I dream that too? The moment I move my bottom against the mattress, however, the spike of pain tells me it's all too true.

I drag myself out of the bed and inch my way over to the mirror. My gaze bounces over to the door, not wishing to be interrupted by Lydia. Grasping the fabric in my hands, I ease it up over my tender flesh and gaze in horror at the damage done.

Dark purple stands out in angry stripes against my pale skin. Just skimming my fingertips across causes that delicious burn of agony to coil in my stomach. But how did I get back home? It's clear why I'm not in my night rail. It must be that Portswell put me to bed after stripping me of the other woman's clothes.

Heat licks up my face as I drop the garment as if I'd been burned. Memories cascade one on top of the other until my head nearly aches from it. Some aspects are still a bit fuzzy, but some stand out clear as day.

I remember the duke pleasuring me with that horrid root up my backside. The burn was exquisite, a sensation unlike any other. But then, I'm sure I fell asleep. Even if just for a moment.

It was indeed Portswell who took me home. Like a daft fool, I told him how I got out of the house, for that was the only way for him to help me back in. Now, he'll know how to search for me, how to circumvent me, but most importantly, how to vex me whenever he wishes to punish me.

Not that the last thought is all that terrible. Though, I do wish it wouldn't take so long for me to sit more comfortably. It's the one thing that drives me to near madness.

Easing down onto the chair in front of the mirror, I comb out my hair, giving the illusion to my lady's maid as she walks in that nothing is amiss. I simply want to start my day bright and early. When she walks in, her lips turn down into a frown as she studies me.

Thankfully, the shift the duke borrowed matches mine completely. She shouldn't be suspicious of it at all. Setting down my warming chocolate, she goes about the other chores, leaving me with my thoughts.

By now, she's well aware of my moods and shifting desires. We sit in silence as I stare out of the window, watching the others mill by. Soon, I shall be just as free. Perhaps not in a chap's clothes, seeing as the duke destroyed my last set, but as a wife.

I take a sip as I try to bludgeon my brain into working. Tonight, at the ball, will be my only chance to skew things in my favor. If I cannot make Portswell see reason, then I must simply take matters into my own hands.

"Are you excited about tonight?"

Dragging my gaze over to my lady's maid, I piece together what she just asked. Humming a noncommittal sound, I go back to drinking my chocolate. It's not as if it is my debut all over again. I've already been gawked at by several men, few of whom actually wanted to stop by and see me afterward.

No doubt, they were all abuzz about the more prominent ladies with dukes and earls as their fathers. Though we are not destitute by any means, we are not nearly as flush as those of higher rank and stature. For a moment, I freeze, my cup halfway to my lips.

Where are my earnings from last night? With as much as I fleeced from those dull-witted men, I can secure a new set of trousers! Setting my cup down, I wave Lydia over.

"I have a desire to see my gown for the ball tonight. Can you inquire as to its completion?"

"Miss, I would love nothing more, but I must finish preparing you for this morning."

I stop short, my brows furrowing. "It is simply breakfast with my aunt. Will not my morning dress work?"

"Forgive me, Miss, a note was left for me this morning by the butler. Seems as if you are to ride at Hyde Park after breakfast."

Blast. Of all the luck. Why now when my backside feels as if it's swollen at least double the size?

"Very well. When we leave, I would like for you to fetch it."

"Yes, Miss. It shall be done."

She takes far too long to prepare me for breakfast. I don't mean to twitch about, but with each passing moment, my heart sinks. If I showed him the way in, then I might have shown him far more.

It makes sense to not have the money that was on me. No doubt the cad took that at the same time he stripped me nearly bare. But the rest of my coin must be safe. It has to be.

Eventually, she finishes, and attempts to usher me out the door. With a soft blush and downward glance, it's easy to convince her I have need of the privy before breakfast. Once she leaves, I fly into action.

My fingers tremble as I slide my hand across the wooden floor beams, feeling for the slight give. The box is still there. Thank heavens, the box is still there. Forgetting my poor, abused backside, I plop down on the floor, biting back a howl as the discomfort shoots through me.

As I pull the box out from its hiding place, my heart pounds in my temple. It must be there. It must be there. All the money I amassed before yesterday will be there. I pry the lid open with an ominous squeak.

There, lying on the bed of silk, is a big, fat stack of absolutely nothing. Tears prick my eyes as I put the box back into its spot and reposition the wood. He's the devil incarnate. A wolf in sheep's clothing. Though deep down, I understand he felt the need to rob me of my earnings, but it was not his place.

Not yet.

Once he's my husband, then he can order me about and take things from me. I'll have a much better position to get them back. As it stands, I cannot demand anything without revealing everything. Blast him and his high-handed ways.

Rising back to my feet, I will the tears at bay as I make my way down to breakfast. Yet another misdeed I can lay at his feet. My aunt would never willingly ride at Hyde Park. Not in her elderly condition. It has to be yet another way for Portswell to antagonize me in the name of being a good protector in my brother's stead.

The blackguard only wants to see me suffer with a sore bottom atop an unforgiving saddle. Gritting my teeth, I push my way into the breakfast room to see him sitting there, conversing with Aunt Amelia as if nothing is amiss. The smile I grace him with as I sweep into a low bow is as absent of malice as I can contrive.

If the servants or my aunt suspect anything, they certainly don't show it. Ignoring the odious man, I pile my plate with breads and meats before sitting across from him. He sips his coffee and reads the paper, his eyes barely traveling over to me.

Honestly, it's as if I'm still in residence with my brother. He, too, would engross himself with the paper, ignoring everyone and everything. Well, once we're married, that will certainly stop. A wife has far more needs than a sister or sisterly figure.

At least, I assume they do. No doubt he'll spin some tale as to why this is far more important than discussing the day, or rather evening, with me. As I sit down on the hard chair, it takes all my effort not to visibly show the bit of pain. From over the top of his paper, the duke watches with fascination.

"Are you quite well this morning, Lady Hunt? It seems as if you are having some difficulty sitting down."

My aunt glances over, her wizened eyes missing nothing. "'Tis true. You are quite stiff. What ails you, child?"

I resist the urge to glare at the duke. All of this is his fault and his alone. Turning on the charm, I smile over at my aunt and pat her hand.

"It's nothing for you to concern yourself with. I fear I had a bit of a bad dream last night. In my effort to escape, I fell out of the bed, right onto the hard floor beneath."

"Heavens," she cries out. "Shall we send for a physician?"

"You need not worry yourself over me. I shall be right as rain before too long. I just must move gingerly for a bit. There is nothing broken or sprained that I can tell. Every joint moves correctly. I'm simply sore."

"If it gets worse..."

"Don't worry, my dear, precious aunt. If it becomes worse, I will alert you right away."

With that seemingly settled, she goes back to her breakfast as if the interruption never happened. I gaze over at Portswell, attempting to catch his glance so I can glare at him, but he seems so enrapt with what he's reading. Even when I clear my throat, he doesn't so much as move.

"Are you ill, child?" My aunt asks, completely ruining my ruse.

"No, Aunt. I am not ill."

"You keep clearing your throat. I'm of half a mind to call the physician, anyway."

Panic soars through my chest, leaving me lightheaded for a moment. "You will only be wasting his time. I seem to have caught a bit of jam and cream in my throat. that's all."

"Well, with the way women your age gobble down food as if it's about to go out of fashion, I find that I'm not surprised. Eat slower. No one is going to pry it from your hands."

Of all the… Even now, Portswell makes no show that he's heard anything. It cannot be that he's suddenly overcome with a rare deafness.

This won't do. If he's to try to make my life miserable, then I shall do the same. Once I butter and jam a piece of bread, I lean forward and tap the paper.

With a disgruntled frown, he flips it away and raises his eyebrow. "Yes? What on earth could be more important than catching up with current affairs?"

I blink at him, donning the best mask of innocence I can. "Why, I am to attend a ball tonight. Isn't that grand?"

"Simply splendid."

My aunt smiles and shakes her head. "Oh, come now. Surely you have your eye on some eligible lady who might be in attendance?"

My stomach clenches as I stare at the man. How could I not have thought he'd pine for another? But then, would he be so scandalous toward me if he were?

"You're too kind, but my heart is sworn off of marriage. For this season at least. I have my hands far too full of watching out for my friend's dearest little sister."

She harrumphs as she slathers a bit of jam on her bread. "You cannot wait forever. Youth will fade as fast as the setting sun. Remember that."

"Yes, my lady. I will remember." A ghost of a smile twitches his lips as goes back to his paper.

"Yes," I interrupt, "But what of tonight? It might be that I'll finally catch the eye of some dashing Alpha who'll come in and sweep me off my feet in a torrid romance. Why, we might be engaged by the end of the evening."

"Not likely," he growls, sliding a dark glare my way.

"Why, Your Grace. Do you not feel as if I'm in a position to set my cap at any Alpha who captures my fancy?"

He closes the paper and sets it down with a grunt. "You are one omega of dozens who will be there tonight. The Alphas in attendance will be far fewer. Thus, more than one of you will be vying for one of them. I dare say it will be a bloodbath. Only the most eligible will attend, and of those, only a few are remotely suitable. Best to set your cap at a beta. Though they be beneath you in stature, they will have less reason to ruin you."

"Fie," my aunt cries out. "All this talk is depressing. I have been informed that a trip to Hyde Park is in order?"

"Yes," the duke smiles, his eyes turning cold. "I fear I have been remiss in my duties as protector. How is your our Lady Hunt to be seen if she is confined in doors all day?"

My aunt's face falls as she brings her coffee to her lips. Her old hands shake ever so slightly, a tremor which has gotten worse as years go by.

"Such a good girl, my Augusta. I cannot do as much for her as I'd like, and I loathe sending her out with her maid. To keep her here with me has done my heart good. But you are right. It's not fitting for others to not see her out and about."

Guilt slams into me at my aunt's words. To hear her say it, I'm a paragon, the picture of grace and humility. It would send her to her grave to know how many times I've been out and about without a chaperone.

But then, perhaps that's the duke's plan all along. He sits there, smug as he sips his coffee. If he hopes to guilt and shame me into changing my actions, then he will be waiting for quite some time.

Only one thing can truly settle my heart and make my spirit calm. Unfortunately, it's his strong hand guiding me in the most physical way. As I see it, I'm well and truly damned.