Page 162 of Harpy of the Ton
“Not if you give me cause to believe that you’re perfectly sane,” he said. “But we must always consider whether you should be placed somewhere where you can be cared for properly.”
An asylum…A cold, stark place, where sorry individuals were incarcerated by those who wished to be rid of them.
Bella cringed as she recalled the barbs she’d directed at Eleanor Howard, whom Juliette had once said was destined for an asylum due to her inappropriate behavior. To her shame, she’d joined Juliette in her taunts, reveling in the gratification to be had from ridding Society of undesirables.
And now she was an undesirable herself, a misfit to be controlled and punished—or incarcerated if she failed to obey.
“Thomas, take care of my fiancée,” Dunton said. He leaned over Bella and kissed her on the forehead, and she fought her revulsion as he flicked his tongue out, running it along her skin.
Then the footman took her wrist. Surrendering to defeat, she let him lead her back to her chamber. As soon as she entered, the door closed, and she heard the key turn in the lock.
Chapter Forty-Six
Lawrence leaned outof the kitchen window. “Children! Breakfast’s ready.”
Silence.
They were in that bloody den again—sulking abouther.
He glanced at the kitchen table—at the day-old, half-eaten loaf of bread and the congealed mess in the bowl that might pass for scrambled eggs if he closed his eyes.
And held his nose. And ignored the taste.
It was better than nothing—and no different to what they’d been used to before. But he missed the aroma of freshly baked bread.
And he missed the woman who’d baked it with love.
It was true that, when enjoying a good meal, one could taste the love that went into the preparation. And,by goodness, she had loved. She’d loved cooking—she’d loved her home, and the children.
And she’d loved him.
Cursing, he strode out into the garden and approached the den.
The sign was different to before.
Keep out. On pain of death. That meansyou, Pa.
“You can’t stay out here forever,” he said.
He heard whispered voices, then silence.
“If you want to pretend you’re not there, children, you must do better than that.”
After a pause, Jonathan responded. “Who goes there?”
“It’s your father.”
“You can’t come in,” Roberta said.
“And we’re not pretending,” William added. “Unlikeyou.”
The arrow hit home. Admitting defeat, Lawrence retreated.
As he returned to the kitchen, he heard whistling, and a young lad appeared at the window.
“Mornin’, Mr. Baxter,” the boy said. “I’ve got that cheese you ordered.”
“Come in, Jimmy,” Lawrence said. “I’ll give you a penny for your trouble.”
