Page 77 of The Truth Serum
Which meant, as fantastical as it all sounded, she believed him. And she believedin him.So she would do what he asked. For England. For the war effort. And for him.
Mostly for him. Because she wanted to believe everything he said, even when her rational mind thought the whole thing silly. Why would any man raised in England sell out his country for more money? Especially when he already had plenty?
She sighed as she looked out the window at the dark night. These were all hypothetical questions, mind candy that distracted from the real problem. Even the temptation, the hope that Nate and the duke could get her dowry free for her was nothing more than a someday dream.
The real problem came in the morning when she had to go home.
She had defied Fletcher tonight. That was not something he was going to forgive. But how far would he go to punish her? Would he be satisfied when she agreed to meet with the baron at the Penrose ball? She hoped so. But more likely, he was right now devising a truly cruel punishment for her.
Fletcher was sneaky. And half his punishment was in making her wait, belly tight and mind spinning, for a cruelty she didn’t see coming. His revenges had been petty when he was a boy. He’d broken her dolls or framed her for eating forbidden sweets. But he was her brother, and she’d been told that she had to forgive him. Little boys acted out. He’d just needed more attention, more love, more sweets.
And that had been assuming anyone believed her in the first place. Hell, she’d barely believed it herself. He couldn’t possibly have been devious enough or cruel enough to maim her favorite mare. Or get Nanny fired for stealing.
His rages, those violent tempers where he’d destroyed everything in reach, were simply a product of adolescence. Every boy had them, though Henry never had. But then Henry had been a hermit, who spent his adolescence holed up in his room or working the fields alongside their tenants.
So how would Fletcher punish her for tonight’s disobedience? And was there any way for her to mollify his behavior?
She found no answers as their group headed for bed, each to their own bedrooms. Kynthea acted as her maid, helping her out of her gown before disappearing down the hall. Which left Rebecca to sit in her shift as she brushed out her hair.
She wasn’t surprised when a knock sounded at her door. She guessed who it was and sat in indecision. Could she speak withhim while sitting in her shift? Could she look at him and not remember how it felt to have his hands on her body?
Could she refuse to answer the door?
No. She wanted to see him, if only to remind herself that he had set her aside. That the last time he had touched her in her bedroom, he had stopped. As he had always stopped, even when they were teenagers.
This time, it would be her who said no. This time, she would not humiliate herself by asking for more.
She opened the door and Nate stepped in. He closed the door quietly behind him, then looked at her face—just looked at her—for a very long moment.
“Nate?”
“How bad is it?”
“What?”
“When Fletcher gets angry, what does he do? How bad it is?”
She turned away. This wasn’t something people shared. It wasn’t spoken of, even among her own family. No one discussed Fletcher at all.
“I can handle my brother,” she said. And inside, she prayed she wasn’t lying.
He touched her arm, gently pulling her around to face him. “I can tell when you’re lying. Just like you always know when I’m hiding something.” He stroked his thumb across her cheek, and she felt the heat of it in her whole body. “Please, Becca, trust me. I can help. I got Frid out of France. I found jobs for her and her daughter. I can—”
“What will you do? Hurt him? Kill him? He’s my brother.”
“I will keep you safe.”
A beautiful thought, but he couldn’t get her dowry out of Henry by tomorrow. And tomorrow was when she’d have to face Fletcher.
“It’s Fletcher’s job to keep me safe. And Henry’s. And maybe my mother’s.”
“They aren’t doing it.”
She gave him a sad smile. “I’ve learned to be sneaky. I’m here tonight. I’ll figure something out tomorrow.”
“You used to say that when we were younger.” He sat down heavily on her bed, one hand pressed against his side. “Just how long have you been afraid of Fletcher?”
She didn’t answer, mostly because she couldn’t. Fletcher had always been volatile, even as a little boy. Thankfully, he’d been gone most of the time at school. It was only when he was home that she’d learned to hide from him.
