Page 11 of A Father's Insistence

Chapter Six

Joanna

“It’ll be ok.” Theo reassures me with a squeeze of my hand. He’s the only person I’ll allow to touch me. Yesterday evening, we ate together at the large table in his dining room, and I sat next to Theo while he took his place at the head of the table. At one point, when leaning over to place a plate of grilled chicken, vegetables, and potatoes in front of me, the butler accidentally touched my arm—I immediately jumped up from my chair, sending the food flying across the table and straight into Theo’s lap. I was mortified at my own stupidity, but Theo did his best to calm me down. I feel so lucky it’s him I’m spending my time with and not his father. Maybe my stars have changed? It’s been a week, and I’ve not been raped or forced into any sexual act. I feel sort of normal, or as close to normal as I’m ever likely to experience again in my life. I’m anxious, though. I’m so very nervous of meeting my father as I don’t know how he’ll react, and there’s no way of telling. When I was a young girl, he was kind enough to inform me of my fate, which is something I’m aware Victoria’s father never did for her. He was also different from Amelia’s father because he didn’t insist on training me for the trials. I was told what I would need to do but never forced to try them out beforehand. If I wanted to attempt something, it was my choice…but I didn’t. I wanted to enjoy my childhood before the inevitable came. Will he be angry at me for not succeeding in becoming Nicholas’ wife? He must know it was Viscount Hamilton who bought me, and not Nicholas? Will my father be able to end this charade once and for all? My mind has been filled with tumultuous thoughts all night, trying to envisage all the alternative ways today could go. But every possibility I considered descended into screams when I imagined it was Viscount Hamilton who came to see me instead of my father.

“I promise you,” Theo reassures me again as a stray lock of hair falls from the neat French plait I have braided into my long blonde hair, to keep the frizz at bay. Reaching forward, Theo tucks the loose strand behind my ear. His touch is so different to others and sends warmth cascading through my body.

“What if he’s angry at me?”

“Angry?” Theo shakes his head in confusion. We’re sitting together on a sofa in his lounge. The room is formal in style but with a touch of modernity here and there.

“Because I didn’t win? Because of what happened to me?”

I give Theo a couple of alternatives.

“He’s your father. He’s been worried about you. The second I spoke to him to tell him you were safe and under my protection, he was thrilled. He’s been worried sick about your whereabouts over the last year. The Cavendish brothers prevented him from going to the police. He believed you were dead and became a defeated man. I’ve never heard so many screams of joy when I told them you were safe. It’ll be all right. You’ll see.”

“I know,” I reply and find myself leaning into Theo. Am I becoming too dependent on him? I pull away again, but he tugs me back to nestle under his arm.

The door-bell rings, and I almost jump out of my skin.

“I don’t think I can...” Getting to my feet, I race for the door, which I know leads me away from the hallway and toward my bedroom. A strong arm wraps around my waist and pulls me into a solid mass of heat.

“You can,” Theo whispers into my ear. “I’ll be with you the whole time. I promise.”

My breaths come out in ragged heaves, but I allow the warmth of Theo’s body to bring me comfort.

“You’ll stay next to me the entire time? I don’t want them to touch me. Please. You have to promise they won’t. I can’t have them touch me, yet. Please, Theo.”

“You have my word.”

A knock comes at the door opposite to the one we’re currently standing by, and I allow Theo to lead me back to my seat. He settles me down but remains standing.

“Ready?” he whispers again.

“Yes,” I reply, knowing I need to face my parents at some point.

“Come in.”

I can feel my heart almost beating through my chest as I watch the door open. It’s unhurried and tormenting as if in slow motion like when an old fashioned film breaks. My mother and father enter the room, Edgar and Sarah Nethercutt, the Earl and Countess of Linton. They’re still just as regal as I remember. My mother wears a skirt suit in a teal color, and my father is dressed in a formal suit with a monogrammed tie. They look like they are off for an afternoon tea, not meeting the daughter they haven’t seen in a year. Theo is wearing a shirt and smart trousers, but I’m just in a long jumper and leggings because I’ve lost so much weight I don’t really fill anything else out. It’s easier to hide it this way.

“Lord and Lady Linton.” Theo extends his hand out for my father to shake it. My mother lets out a whimpered gasp when she sees me. I can tell she’s been crying from the red rims around her eyes—I hate the fact she’s upset. She’s my mother, and I don’t want her to be distressed. She’s not a part of this secret society. She’s merely an obedient wife who’s done as she’s been told. Women have no place as rulers in my world. We are toys to our men’s whims.

“Theodore, a pleasure.” My father shakes Theo’s hand. “I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for our daughter.”

“Joanna.” My mother steps forward and tries to bring me into an embrace, but I shuffle farther behind Theo. I can’t let them touch me, and I wonder why? They are my parents—they wouldn’t hurt me. Except, that’s not true, because my father freely gave me to Nicholas for the sale. He’s the reason I’ve suffered as I have. If he’d left England, taking me and my mother and hiding us away, then none of this would’ve happened. I drum my fists against my father’s chest as the anger bubbling inside me explodes,

“This is all your fault!” I scream with tears streaming down my face. I bash his chest over and over again. All my tension and fear is being dispelled from my body through my fists into bruising punches. Nobody moves for a few moments. I vaguely hear my mother’s weeping getting louder, but I’m too focused on the fury seeping from me. Eventually, Theodore wraps his arms around me and pulls me away.

“Enough,” he orders, and I bury my head in his chest and allow the tears to soak through into his shirt.

“What did they do?” my father questions, his voice quivering with emotion.

“We don’t know the full details, yet.” Theo’s deep voice rumbles through his chest, and I allow it to soothe me further. “I’m not sure we’ll ever know, but the main thing is Joanna is safe.”

“And married.” my father adds in a poignant tone.

“In name only.”—Theodore’s voice is tense—“I’ll not force her into anything she’s not ready for.”

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