Page 2 of Because You're Mine
Stiffly she reached into the pocket, locating a tiny circlet. Her heart thudded in a sickening rhythm as she withdrew the object and beheld it. A small gold ring fashioned in a braided pattern, adorned with a tiny, dark sapphire. The symbol of her future bondage as Clifton’s wife.
“It has been in my family for generations,” Lord Clifton remarked. “My mother wore it until the day she died. Does it please you?”
“It is attractive,” Madeline said dully, loathing the object.
Taking the ring from her, Clifton pushed it onto her finger. It was far too loose, and she had to close her hand into a fist to keep it from slipping off. “Now you may thank me for it, my pet.” His heavy arms snaked around her, and he pulled her hard against his short, barrelled chest. He had a foul, stale smell, like game birds hung out to ripen for too long. Obviously Lord Clifton believed frequent baths to be an unnecessary indulgence.
Madeline drew in a breath of suffocated misery. “Why must you refer to me as a ‘pet’ or a ‘kitten’?” she asked in a voice that trembled with defiance. “I don’t like to be called such things. I’m a woman, aperson.”
Lord Clifton laughed, revealing large yellow teeth, and she winced from the rush of his foul breath against her face. He squeezed her tightly as he replied. “I knew that sooner or later you would try to challenge me…but at my age, I know all the tricks. Here is the reward for your impertinence, my spiteful little pet—”
His blubbery lips pressed over hers, smothering and grinding her mouth in the first kiss she had ever been given. His arms were as tight as barrel stays. Madeline held silent and still, quivering with revulsion…using all her strength to endure his touch without screaming or crying.
“You will find that I am a very masculine sort,” Lord Clifton said, breathing heavily, appearing satisfied with his conquest. “I don’t spout poetry or pander to women’s ridiculous notions of what they want. I do as I please, and you will learn to like it exceedingly.” His pudgy hand stroked the side of her pale, strained face. “Lovely,” he murmured. “Lovely. I’ve never seen eyes the color of yours, like amber.” His fingers twisted in a stray wisp of her golden-brown hair, rubbing the silken strands repeatedly. “How I look forward to the day when you’ll be mine!”
Madeline set her jaw hard to keep it from trembling. She wanted to scream at him, to tell him that she would never belong to him, but the sense of duty and responsibility that had been instilled in her from birth kept her silent.
Clifton must have noticed her involuntary shiver. “You’re getting cold,” he said in a tone he might have used with a very small child. “Come, let us go inside before you catch a chill.”
Relieved, she rose with alacrity and stepped with him into the parlor.
As soon as Lord and Lady Matthews saw the ring on Madeline’s finger, they erupted in smiles and congratulations—they, who made a point of never showing enthusiasm because they considered it unrefined.
“What a generous gift,” Agnes exclaimed, her normally sallow face glowing with pleasure. “And such an exquisite ring, Lord Clifton.”
“I think so,” he said modestly, jowls flapping with gratification.
Madeline watched with a faint, frozen smile as her father ushered Lord Clifton to the library for a celebratory drink. As soon as they were out of hearing, she tore the ring from her hand and flung it to the carpet.
“Madeline,” Agnes exclaimed, “retrieve that at once! I will not abide such childish tantrums. You will wear that ring from now on—and you will take pride in it!”
“It doesn’t fit,” Madeline said stonily. Remembering the feel of Clifton’s wet mouth on hers, she scrubbed her sleeve across her face until her lips and chin were raw. “I won’t marry him, Mama. I’ll kill myself first.”
“Don’t be dramatic, Madeline.” Agnes bent and picked up the ring, holding it as if it were priceless. “I hope that being married to a man as solid and earthbound as Lord Clifton will rid you of such wild outbursts.”
“Earthbound,” Madeline whispered with a bitter smile. She found it incredible that her mother could sum up all the repulsive qualities in Clifton with such a banal word. “Just the quality every girl dreams of in the man she marries.”
For once it was a relief to return to the academy, where there were no males except for the dancing instructor who came to tutor the girls once a week. Madeline walked along the narrow hallway with a hatbox in hand. The rest of her belongings would be brought upstairs later. Reaching the room she shared with her best friend, Eleanor Sinclair, she came upon a crowd of a half-dozen girls settled on the beds and chairs. As Madeline was the oldest student at Mrs. Allbright’s academy, and Eleanor was the second-oldest at seventeen, they were frequently visited by the younger girls, who considered them mature and worldly.
The girls appeared to be sharing a tin of biscuits and exclaiming over some colored print that Eleanor held. Noticing Madeline’s arrival, Eleanor gave her a welcoming smile. “How was Lord Clifton?” she asked, having known before Madeline’s departure of the planned meeting with her betrothed.
“Even worse than I expected,” Madeline replied shortly, walking to her own narrow bed, which was placed opposite Eleanor’s. She dropped the hatbox to the floor and sat on the edge of the mattress, wishing that the girls would leave so she could talk privately with her friend.
Soon, Eleanor’s friendly gaze promised, while the other girls continued to huddle in their excited circle.
“Just look at him,” one of them exclaimed breathlessly. “Can you imagine what it would be like to actually meet him?”
“I would faint,” someone else declared, and they all giggled.
“He’s the most handsome—”
“He looks like a highwayman—”
“Yes, there’s something in the eyes…”
Madeline shook her head at the flurry of feminine sighs. “What in heaven’s name are you looking at?” she asked, her glumness replaced by growing curiosity.
“Let Madeline see—”
