acceptable because they were polite. It had been the way she was raised by the man watching her offer a curtsy of respect, when the only feeling she had for him was pity.
“Yes, well, it seems you are not so far off the path if you can still behave in a civilized manner. Everyone in this house needs to understand I only mean the best for you.”
Her father waved his hand, dismissing her.
Giles followed her up the grand staircase. She turned right instead of left and heard the butler clear his throat.
“I simply wish to have a word with my mother.”
The butler offered her a short bow. “Mrs. Aston has left for the country at the command of the master.”
She felt a chill tingling across her skin again. Now the entire house felt unfamiliar to her. Giles extended his arm toward her room. She could have sworn she heard the clattering of keys like a jailer would have on his belt, because she was very much a prisoner. The urge to flee began to clamor inside her. She looked toward the front door, realizing all she needed was the courage to walk away from her imprisonment.
The same courage that had seen her walking up the steps of the Solitary Chamber.
“Now, don’t make me handle you,” Giles grumbled. “I don’t want to be telling the master you aren’t in your room. The clinic won’t be worse than the street.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
The butler frowned and grabbed her wrist. He had an amazing amount of strength and sent her tumbling into her room with a hard tug.
“You’re a lady; stay in there. I’ve no more liking for this bit of business than you do, but I can’t lose my place any more than you want to give up the comfortable life you have.”
Giles closed her door with a disgusted grunt. She was left staring at the things she considered hers. Today she had to face the fact that nothing in the room belonged to her. The law would support her father’s right to manage her however he saw fit. The very clothes on her back belonged to him.
But a clinic?
She sat and covered her mouth with one hand. Those clinics were places of horror where pain was often used as therapy. Maybe she had heard the tales over tea, but women were most often sent to the places by men who wanted them to be obedient. Like her father wished of her.
Darius’s face rose from her memory with all his insistence that she did not belong in his world. But maybe she did. At the moment, it seemed more welcoming than the society she’d been raised in, a society that would see her sent to a clinic because she enjoyed knowledge.
And kisses…
Even the memory of Darius’s kiss wasn’t enough to distract her from her dilemma. She paced until well after sundown, but Giles remained at his post until another man took his place.
It appeared she would be going to the clinic. Horror rose up so thick, it threatened to choke her. She swallowed, forcing herself to plan. She’d done a good job of being everything her father wanted her to be until now. She would have to try and convince him she was still docile.
It was the only way to get him to lower his guard.
And then she’d run—hurry as fast as she could to the only place where she might be respected. That place her friends looked down their noses at only because they had been trained to do so by their parents. Well, she wanted to know—wanted to know so much more than she did. She wanted to understand what she was.
***
The next morning, Janette climbed meekly into the carriage.
“I am relieved to see you calmly ready to follow my instructions, Janette,” her father remarked.
She wasn’t calm, but she offered her father a serene smile, one she’d perfected over countless tea services where the conversation had been dull enough to almost kill her.
The carriage came to a stop outside the clinic, and the footman let the steps down. Janette didn’t wait for her father but left the vehicle, because like everything else in her life, it was closing in on her.
“Your
“Yes, well, it seems you are not so far off the path if you can still behave in a civilized manner. Everyone in this house needs to understand I only mean the best for you.”
Her father waved his hand, dismissing her.
Giles followed her up the grand staircase. She turned right instead of left and heard the butler clear his throat.
“I simply wish to have a word with my mother.”
The butler offered her a short bow. “Mrs. Aston has left for the country at the command of the master.”
She felt a chill tingling across her skin again. Now the entire house felt unfamiliar to her. Giles extended his arm toward her room. She could have sworn she heard the clattering of keys like a jailer would have on his belt, because she was very much a prisoner. The urge to flee began to clamor inside her. She looked toward the front door, realizing all she needed was the courage to walk away from her imprisonment.
The same courage that had seen her walking up the steps of the Solitary Chamber.
“Now, don’t make me handle you,” Giles grumbled. “I don’t want to be telling the master you aren’t in your room. The clinic won’t be worse than the street.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
The butler frowned and grabbed her wrist. He had an amazing amount of strength and sent her tumbling into her room with a hard tug.
“You’re a lady; stay in there. I’ve no more liking for this bit of business than you do, but I can’t lose my place any more than you want to give up the comfortable life you have.”
Giles closed her door with a disgusted grunt. She was left staring at the things she considered hers. Today she had to face the fact that nothing in the room belonged to her. The law would support her father’s right to manage her however he saw fit. The very clothes on her back belonged to him.
But a clinic?
She sat and covered her mouth with one hand. Those clinics were places of horror where pain was often used as therapy. Maybe she had heard the tales over tea, but women were most often sent to the places by men who wanted them to be obedient. Like her father wished of her.
Darius’s face rose from her memory with all his insistence that she did not belong in his world. But maybe she did. At the moment, it seemed more welcoming than the society she’d been raised in, a society that would see her sent to a clinic because she enjoyed knowledge.
And kisses…
Even the memory of Darius’s kiss wasn’t enough to distract her from her dilemma. She paced until well after sundown, but Giles remained at his post until another man took his place.
It appeared she would be going to the clinic. Horror rose up so thick, it threatened to choke her. She swallowed, forcing herself to plan. She’d done a good job of being everything her father wanted her to be until now. She would have to try and convince him she was still docile.
It was the only way to get him to lower his guard.
And then she’d run—hurry as fast as she could to the only place where she might be respected. That place her friends looked down their noses at only because they had been trained to do so by their parents. Well, she wanted to know—wanted to know so much more than she did. She wanted to understand what she was.
***
The next morning, Janette climbed meekly into the carriage.
“I am relieved to see you calmly ready to follow my instructions, Janette,” her father remarked.
She wasn’t calm, but she offered her father a serene smile, one she’d perfected over countless tea services where the conversation had been dull enough to almost kill her.
The carriage came to a stop outside the clinic, and the footman let the steps down. Janette didn’t wait for her father but left the vehicle, because like everything else in her life, it was closing in on her.
“Your
Similar Books
