Page 20 of Brix

“Daphne? I believe you’ve married into the right family.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Daphne felt at home in the restored castle owned by her friends. She’d spent many nights here wishing she had the courage to leave her parents and leave England.

It’s funny how things work out. She was forced to leave due to things beyond her control, and in the process, she found the love of her life. Married hoping to have children soon, she was thrilled to know that her father knew nothing of her mother’s machinations. What concerned her was what those machinations really were.

Her mother had always been ambitious beyond reason. Her father made excellent money, and the title afforded him certain considerations. To Daphne’s mother, that meant being allowed to open charge accounts at the upscale boutiques and private designer clothing galleries in London.

If someone in her circle of friends bought a new Chanel suit, she bought two. If they bought a Dior bag, she bought three. Shoes? She converted one of the bedrooms into her shoe closet. It never set well with Daphne, and she found the behavior repulsive and showy.

Staring out the window of the bedroom, looking into the beautiful gardens below, she questioned why she hadn’t brought it up sooner. Why hadn’t she confronted her father? Why hadn’t she confronted her mother? Mostly, it was fear. Fear of what her mother might force her to do. Again.

“Daphne, you must attend the event at Lady Stalwart’s.”

“Mother, I don’t have time to attend that.”

“Attend, Daphne, or I’ll have a conversation with the auction house, and you’ll be forced to return here. I’ve allowed you and your independent, impulsive nature to take hold for too long.”

“Yes, Mother.”

She’d given in every single time. Why? Why was she so afraid?

“Daph? Daphne? Honey, I’ve been calling your name for five minutes,” smiled Brix. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. No.” She shook her head, turning to stare at him. “I’m not sure. I’m having some strange memories about my mother holding things over my head, forcing me to do things I didn’t want to do.”

“Daph, do you think your mother made you go to all those events, all those balls and things because you’re white? She’s not, and the women she’s trying to impress are white? I mean, I don’t want to sound racist, if that’s what this is, but is it possible?”

“I think at this point, Brix, anything is possible.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, but you have a visitor downstairs.”

“A visitor? My mother?” she asked.

“Worse.” Daphne swallowed hard, shaking her head. “Baby, we’re all here with you. Nothing will happen to you. He’s already had a taste of Leif and Major. I think he might have pissed his pants, but I can’t tell.”

“Stay with me,” she whispered.

“Honey, I’m not going anywhere. No one is. Even Mom is making him squirm. I don’t think he’s met anyone like her before.”

Dressed in a pair of casual trousers and a summer sweater, she looked as if she could have stepped off the cover of a magazine. It was simple yet elegant and put together. It didn’t matter to her what others thought of her, but she wanted everyone to know that she was just fine with her husband and new family.

With Brix by her side, she felt confident and no longer filled with the fear that once possessed her when she was around her ex-husband.

Stepping into the sitting room, she noticed that her entire family was standing around the room, arms folded across large, expanded chests, the women with slicing glares. And the object of their attention was seated near the fire, appearing to be very nervous.

He abruptly stood, glaring at her. The years hadn’t been kind to him. Now in his early sixties, he was portly, red-faced, somewhat shorter than the last time she saw him, and definitely nervous. His fat hands were red and raw, flaking from either the cold or some skin condition she didn’t want to know about.

“Marshall, the law says that you have to stay away from me,” she said calmly.

“Please, tell these neanderthal’s to leave us alone for a moment.” His sharp British tone had an air of superiority to it and even Daphne didn’t care for it.

“This neanderthal is her husband,” growled Brix. “You want to throw out name calling, then let’s start with a few for you. Abuser, rapist, cheater, liar, let me see.”

“Alright,” he said, holding up his hand. “Daphne, this is an absurd attempt at making me jealous, marrying this man. With me, you have a title, wealth, all the things a woman needs.”

“Things a woman needs. Marshall, I have everything I need. I have a husband who truly loves me, cares for me, admires me for the woman I am. He loves my intelligence, my attitude, all of it. I don’t have to worry about him beating me senseless. His friends would kill him if he did.”

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