Page 40 of The Confessions of a Lady
A stout man with ruddy cheeks and a mutton-chop moustache strode down the hall. His shabby coat and dirty boots pegged him as working class. ‘Where is the bastard? I’ll have medaughter. I won’t stand for this. Where’s my Daisy?’ he bellowed, his wild eyes locking onto Penny as she shrank against the wall. Cheap gin and sweat rolled off the man in sickening waves as powerful as his anger. ‘Tell me where ’e is, girl! Tell me or I’ll thrash you!’ He reached for Penny, but before his thick fingers could grab her arm, he was wrenched away.
‘Don’t fucking touch her!’ The monster was back. And he was roaring. Liam fairly threw the man into the wall. He turned to Penny. ‘I told you to leave.’
Fear was not unfamiliar to Penny. It skated icy fingers down her spine at the steel in his tone and the cold flash in his gaze.
I didn’t want to be right about you.
She bit her lip and nodded her head. ‘Yes, my lord,’ she whispered before rushing down the hall as fast as her sprained ankle would allow.
When she reached the ballroom, she slipped inside the cavernous space. Coggins would be deeply disappointed to know how grateful Penny was to complete this task alone. She needed solitude. Thanks to Coggins, she had hours of it. Leaning against the wall, she gave into the sob clawing up her throat.
He is guilty. I wanted evidence of his evil. Now I have it. A missing girl.
She should feel relief. But grief overwhelmed her in a hot wave. Swiping at her tears, Penny straightened her shoulders and limped to the soapy bucket sitting in the centre of the floor. Scrubbing. The best way to rid oneself of dirt and grime.
But what if that filth was covering someone else’s soul?
Liam fairly dragged Barnaby Williams into his study. The drunk fool was already soused and looking for a fight. Some menbecame melancholy when deep into their cups. Others were jolly. Barnaby Williams was mean. If he couldn’t find an honest fight, he would pick one with any poor soul weaker than himself. Unfortunately, his daughter, Daisy, found herself on the receiving end of his thrashings one too many times.
She had been working as a maid in Liam’s Belgrave mansion since the past summer. At first, he barely noticed the girl. She was quiet, kept to the corners of rooms, and moved like a little grey mouse, always alert, always watching. But a concerning pattern emerged. Every time Daisy returned to work from her monthly day off, she had new bruises. When Liam questioned her about this, she had reasons. She slipped on the steps and hit her cheek. She dropped a jug of water, and it bruised her arm. The family’s new dog bit her hand and broke her finger. The fourth time Daisy came back from her day off, she had a split lip, black eye, and what Liam guessed by her movements were at least two broken ribs. Liam didn’t ask her what happened. Instead, he made a decision.
He had just found Theo and was planning to retreat with his half-brother to his country estate in Cheshire. Holly House was the perfect location for Theo to convalesce. The fresh country air was sure to do his half-brother’s health a world of good.
Liam determined Daisy would be joining them. She would make a fine addition to his staff in Cheshire. It might also be a haven for Daisy if she wished to make the trial placement permanent. Visiting London was impossible for Daisy on her wages. A hinderance she found quite amenable. In fact, Penny was the new hire that replaced Daisy’s position in his Belgrave house, so it had been a sound decision for many reasons.
Even amidst the horror of losing both Reynard and Theo, Liam took a small measure of comfort in watching Daisy flourish in the country during the three months he spent at Holly House before returning to London.
The young woman found her stride without the fear of her monthly visits home and was well-liked among the staff. As it happened, she found herself smitten with the stable master, and a romance was slowly burning into something that might become more permanent according to the reports he received from his housekeeper there. A woman far more prone to gossip than Mrs Harding.
None of this was information he would ever share with Daisy’s father. The disgusting excuse for humanity didn’t deserve to know his daughter was happy, healthy, and flourishing after escaping her father’s horrific treatment.
Barnaby Williams spun around on unsteady feet as Liam thrust him into the study. The drunk man swiped at his wet eyes before squinting at Liam. ‘Wot ’ave you done with my girl? I need ’er at ’ome! She’s mine. My property and you stole her.’ Barnaby’s red face shone with tears. It wasn’t grief but rage that leaked from his eyes in salty tracks.
‘You are no father, Barnaby. You were a monster to that girl. She is well free of you.’ Liam kept his voice calm as rage swelled like a storm in his chest. ‘You are nothing but a filthy, drunk bastard.’ He wanted to provoke the man, welcoming the blows Barnaby usually delivered to weaker, far more innocent victims. If Liam could make himself Barnaby’s target, he would save someone else the punishment. Because Liam was not weak. He certainly wasn’t innocent. And he would fight back. Harder. Dirtier. Far more viciously than Barnaby could ever fathom.
‘You’ll pay for that!’ Barnaby roared. He clenched his hand into a fist and barrelled head-first toward Liam.
‘Sir!’ Mr Coggins leaped out of the way, nearly landing arse over teakettle on Liam’s Aubusson rug.
Liam could have stepped to the side, but he didn’t want the fool crashing into his late mother’s credenza. It was one of her favourite pieces of furniture. Instead, he braced himself toabsorb fifteen stones of drunk, angry man as Barnaby ploughed into him. The bastard drove him back a few steps, but Liam was just as heavy as Barnaby and unlike the portly man, Liam was all muscle. He dug his heels into the carpet, punching Barnaby in the ribs and taking dark pleasure in the crunch of bone and cartilage. He hit him again, aiming for the kidney. Then again in his liver, revelling in the man’s pained grunts.
Barnaby lost his footing and crashed hard on his knees, retching from the powerful blow to his overtaxed liver. Before he could topple forward, Liam caught Barnaby’s grubby chin in his left hand, his cruel fingers digging into the sagging jowls, holding the man upright. ‘Your daughter is gone.’ He smashed his fist into Barnaby’s nose, blood and snot exploding in a gratifying munch of bone. Barnaby lurched backward, but Liam caught his jacket lapel and pulled him back. He cocked his fist. ‘You’ll never be able to take your rage out on her again, you coward.’ Slamming his knuckles into Barnaby’s mouth, teeth broke, cutting his hand, but Liam felt nothing except grim satisfaction. ‘But I’m here, and I’ll happily accommodate your need for fisticuffs, Barnaby. Any time you wish.’ He cocked his fist once more, but the sobbing wretch of a man sickened him. Barnaby’s face was ruined, and Liam’s next hit might knock him senseless.
Shoving him away, Barnaby landed in a heap on the floor. Liam turned to Coggins, who was pressed against the far wall. ‘Get this bastard out of my house.’
Without looking back, he strode out of the room and started walking to the ballroom, instinctually seeking out comfort. Calm. Sanctuary. Penny. Halfway there, he stopped and smashed his fist against the wall. He was so fucking angry. With Barnaby Williams for being a piece-of-filth alcoholic who stooped low enough to beat his defenceless daughter. With Reynard for learning their father’s lessons so well and emulatingthe bastard. With Richard Renquist for destroying so many innocent lives. With himself for not being able to control his emotions. Rage. Lust. Sorrow. They tore at him like relentless crows picking apart a carcass. He longed for peace, but his head was a screaming whirl of chaos. He couldn’t possibly approach Penny like this.
So tumultuous were his emotions, he might burst into tears like a schoolboy or ravish her on the ballroom floor, no better than a rutting beast seeking oblivion in physical release. What he most wanted to do was wrap his body around hers and let her sweet warmth seep into the frozen fractures of his soul until he felt human once more. And that was a terrifying thought indeed.
Liam turned his feet toward the front door. A hard ride on the new stallion his stable master recently bought should cool his blood. Artemis was barely broken and prone to take the bit in his mouth and have his way. A battle of wills with an animal as powerful and angry as Liam himself would be a grand way to avoid the troubling thoughts crowding his mind. Thoughts centring around a certain maid in his household. A maid who called to the wildness within and soothed his beast. A beast who needed to remain feral for the task ahead. He couldn’t afford to entertain thoughts of peace when his atonement demanded war.
11
Penny spent most of the day scrubbing the ballroom floor. A job meant for at least three or four maids, but none came to help. She was certain none were allowed. So, she methodically worked her way from the upper left corner of the room to the bottom right. It took eight hours and night had fallen when she wrung the cloth into the bucket for the final time. Her hands were chapped from the harsh soap and soda she’d used. Her knees hurt worse than her ankle after spending so many hours on the hardwood. Wet ringlets clung to her neck and face from such vigorous scrubbing. But hell and damnation, the bloody parquet floor gleamed. The entire ballroom smelled of the lemon oil she added to the water.
Still on her knees, she leaned back on her heels, stretched her back and wondered what other chores she would be tasked to complete before she could seek her bed. The ballroom was deathly quiet without the rhythmic sound of scrubbing.
One benefit of a solitary task was the time it gave Penny to think. And every thought she had centred around one man.
