Page 13 of Summoner of Sins

“Good idea,” Tabbie frowned. “I think the shrubs here might have ears.”

The next day, dressed for tea, Sophie made her way down the foyer. She was eager to see her friend, and even more interested to hear more of what her Tabbie knew about Lord Whitehouse. However, she wasn’t certain what good the information might do. She hardly left the property and certainly not with Abigail. If she was ever left alone, she might chance it.

Still, she’d arm herself with whatever information Tabbie had to give. If there was any way out of this mess, she’d have to come up with a plan, and that required understanding. She reached the foyer, the clap of her boots on the marble floor echoing through the two-story space.

She doubted she’d grow accustomed to this place. While the stained glass and soaring ceilings were beautiful, it all seemed so ostentatious.

“Sophie,” her uncle called from the hall that led to the back stairs.

“Yes, Uncle?”

“Where are you going?” he asked, crossing toward her.

“To see my friend for tea,” she answered, a bit of dread trickling down her spine. “I’ll only be gone a few hours.”

“What makes you think you can do that?”

The trickle was growing stronger. “I thought I was to socialize?”

“You’re not going anywhere. You have lessons.” He frowned at her, his face set in hard lines.

“Oh, but all of our lessons have been about things such as tea and drinks and…”

“I said no. Report to your lessons.”

Tabbie was expecting her. “She’s the daughter of a marquess. It’s a good social connection if I’m to move in?—”

Like lightning, his hand came down across her cheek. She stumbled back, shocked, as pain exploded in her cheek.

“You let me decide what is good for you or not. I told you to go to your lessons, now go.”

Tears misted her eyes as she drew in a ragged breath, her hand coming up to cover the burning-hot skin where he’d slapped her. She didn’t dare argue, but she couldn’t quite get her feet to move either.

“And you’re not to see that troublesome woman anymore, do you hear me?” Uncle Allister’s finger wagged in her face. “Lady Tabetha is neither righteous nor helpful to our cause.”

“Cause?” she whispered. Dark, cold dread curled her shoulders as she struggled to breathe.

“Never mind. Go.” He pointed toward the stairs.

She paused for another moment before she did as she was told and started up the stairs. Once she reached the top and took two steps down the hall. Rather than reporting to the music room, she leaned against the wall, taking several deep breaths to compose herself.

Her uncle had never been that cruel or that candid. She hardly had a chance to think about it because another voice floated up the stairs.

“How did she respond to the correction?”

Was that Lord Whitehouse?

“Very well,” her uncle answered. “Did as she was told. She did argue once, though.”

“It’s that other woman’s influence, I’m sure of it.”

“Agreed,” her uncle said with a slight huff of breath. “Sophie has been nothing but obedient until this past week.”

“Good. I need a wife who responds to correction, who will heed my way of life without argument.”

Sophie slid down the wall until she sat on the floor, her hands covering her mouth. Had her uncle hit her at Lord Whitehouse’s direction? Why would he do such a thing?

“She’ll be that for you, I’m certain. I’ve never met a more docile female. Chatty at times but…”

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