Page 3 of Tainted Reasoning

Chapter Two

Tamara

My hands tap impatiently on the dividing screen of the black London taxi I’m traveling in. I swear this man could put his foot down if he wanted to, but he’s deliberately driving slowly because he knows I need to be somewhere. I have to be at Oakfield Hall, but not today, not even yesterday. I needed to be there the day, all those months ago, when Nicholas Cavendish first set eyes on my best friend. I still can’t believe she married the man. I swear he must have brainwashed her or something because I saw the state of her after she was handed over by her father to the Cavendish family. She had a brand burned into her skin by Nicholas himself, for fuck’s sake. How can you fall in love with a man who does that? No, he’s definitely brainwashed her.

I lean forward in my seat to speak to the driver, “Any chance we can go a little bit quicker. I really need to get to Oakfield Hall. It’s very important.”

“Sorry, Miss.” The middle-aged cabbie, with grey flecks all over his hair,

waves his hand in the air. “The roads are icy after the ’eavy frost this morning. It’s making ’em difficult to pass through because nobody salts ’em. Too many private lanes, you see. If you ask me, the Duke needs to look at gettin’ some of his staff to make sure the roads are safe. It’s dangerous. If you weren’t a lass on ’er own, I’d ’ave made you walk the last bit. I don’t know what’s down the side of ‘em ditches. One wrong turn of my wheel, and we’d be down one. You a friend of the Duke? You need to tell ’im. Make it safer for us all out ’ere.”

“I know the Duke, well sort of. My best friend is married to him.” I manage to get out from between gritted teeth. If we don’t get to Oakfield Hall soon, then woman alone or not, I’m going to get out of this cab and walk. The roads are barely icy because the sun’s been on them, and the frost melted ages ago.

“Lady Victoria?” The cabbie slows down even further, so he can continue our conversation.

I don’t want to reply to him because I know he'll increase his speed if I don’t engage in conversation, but I’ve been brought up to have good manners, and I know it’s rude not to respond. “Yes.” I keep my answer short, though, in the hope he’ll go faster.

“Lovely lady she is. I live around these parts, so I’ve seen ’er a few times in the village. That ’usband of ’ers is never far behind, though. I’m not sure about the Cavendish family.” The driver indicates left while speaking and turns off the lane up what appears to be a long driveway. I hold my breath, hoping we may have finally arrived. “The father dying so young then the other brother showing up out of nowhere like that. You ’ave to wonder where ’e’s been all these years. It’s a mystery. Your friend say anything to you about it?”

A massive mansion looms up ahead, and I’ve never been so grateful to see a place, even knowing what’s happened behind its walls.

“I’m afraid not.” I pull my wallet out as the driver pulls his cab to a halt. He presses the buttons to stop the clock and to give me the total for our ride. I can tell by the way he’s huffing he’s not happy and wanted some gossip from me to spread around the black cab network in London. Anything remotely associated with aristocracy is the ‘bread and butter’ of his industry. I’m sure by the time the tale of my journey has been spun a few times, he will’ve had the Duke himself instead of me in the back of the cab.

“That’ll be forty-five pounds and twenty pence,” he tells me, and I try not to let my stomach turn at the exorbitant cost. I could have caught a train closer to Oakfield and then taken a taxi the last few miles, but it would’ve taken so much longer. I just want to see my friend and check she’s alright. I bring out two twenty-pound notes and a ten and hand them to him.

“Keep the change.” I smile, grabbing my small suitcase from the cab floor and jumping out of the vehicle.

“Thanks, love,” the cabbie calls behind me, but I’m already making my way up the steps of the imposing mansion. Although I grew up with Victoria in a large house, there’s something about this one that sends chills down my spine, and I can’t help wondering if it’s because of the horrifying historical events that have occurred behind its closed front door.

Using the ornate iron knocker, I bang loudly to gain entrance. A butler appears immediately and ushers me into a side room off the main entrance. He takes my name and tells me he will inform the Duke and Duchess of my arrival before leaving me alone. My hands are shaking so badly I have to clasp them together to stop. I need to see my friend I have to know she’s ok. I hear a scream from somewhere in the house, and I know it’s Victoria. I’m out of the room and following the sound when I hear my name called.

“Tamara.” The shout comes as my friend flies down the grand staircase and straight into my arms. She’s half dressed with her crisp white shirt ripped at the front. Then a man appears behind her, fumbling with the flies of his trousers clearly trying to fasten them as he descends the stairs. I see red. Was he raping my friend? Pushing Victoria aside, I go to meet him. I pull my fist back and slam it directly into his face.

“How dare you? You disgust me. You’re a sick, sick pervert. If I had a knife, I would remove your balls and dick before feeding them to you.” Bringing my knee up this time, I send it straight into his groin area, and he curls up in agony.

“Tamara, what the fuck are you doing?” Victoria screams out behind me and comes to the side of the man who’s hunched over and rubbing his groin.

I grab her hand and pull her away, but she digs her feet into the carpeted flooring.

“We are leaving now,” I snap, but my best friend tries to squirm from my hold.

“Tamara, have you gone insane?”

“No, but I’m beginning to think that whatever he’s done to you has left you seriously in need of a doctor.”

“He’s not done anything to me.”

“He forced you into a marriage. He branded you!” I hold my hand out as if to say, ‘are you really that blind’.

“He did nothing of the sort,” she replies in irritation.

I raise a knowing eyebrow at her.

“Alright, yes he branded me, but that was under his father’s orders.”

“Didn’t he have a mind of his own?” I place my hands on my hips while Victoria goes back to her husband and starts to rub his groin area, but he pushes her hand away with a shake of his head. I secretly hope he gets himself hard, so that the bruised flesh stretches, and it hurts him even more. He looks up at me, and I glare at him with such a venomous look, I suspect it could kill if I possessed magical powers.

“It was different. Tamara, please. Listen to me. I love him.”

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