Page 27 of Wynter's Bite

At first, Bethany did not comprehend her words. “But he is far too old. He’s older than father! He’s even older than Grandfather!”

Mother’s shoulders slumped. “All the same, his land borders ours, and he has guaranteed your father the necessary votes to become Governor. I tried to put a stop to it, to find you a better match, but your father was insistent and I ran out of time.”

The terrifying reality of the situation sank in. “No!” she gasped and threw off her covers. Hauling herself out of bed, Bethany ignored the shriek of pain from her knee as well as her mother’s protest. She spied a wooden cane leaning on the wall by her door that the doctor must have left behind, and hobbled to it.

“Bethany!” her mother shouted. “Get back into bed this instant!”

“No,” Bethany repeated as she grasped the cane with fumbling hands and shambled down the hall with aid of the cane. She had to stop her father from doing something so terrible.

The stairs were a trial to navigate, between managing the cane, keeping the weight off of her bad knee, and shrugging off her mother’s attempts to drag her back to her room. And once she made it to the bottom, her head was even more addled than before from the laudanum. Leaning heavily on the cane, Bethany made her way to her father’s study, where she heard male voices chatting jovially.

When she opened the door, Lord Tench’s face wrinkled further as he smiled. “Ah, here is my bride.”

Ignoring him, Bethany fixed her father with a glare. “I will not wed him.” Lady Wickshire gasped behind her and Tench blanched as if slapped.

Lord Wickshire’s eyes narrowed. “You will do as I say, daughter.”

“No,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “I will marry Lord de Wynter. He is coming tonight to ask you for my hand.”

Both men laughed. “de Wynter?” Tench said with a mocking grin, though she could see a glimmer of hurt in his eyes for her rejection of his suit. “That wastrel could never provide for you. Unlike me, who will see to your every comfort.”

Her father, however, had sobered. “Our dear neighbor speaks truly. From the state of de Wynter’s holdings, he must be light in the pocket.”

Her mother nodded. “Furthermore, by all accounts, he is a rake. He cannot have any real interest in you. He’s never paid you a single call, unlike Lord Tench, who has been nothing but doting.”

Bethany heaved a sigh, exasperated with their lack of understanding. “He is calling upon me tonight! He would have called on me sooner, except that he’s a vampire.” She clapped her hand over her mouth. She had not meant to say that part aloud.

Both her father and Lord Tench looked at her with eyes the size of saucers. Tench was the first to recover. “She’s mad!”

“No,” Lady Wickshire said, putting her arm over Bethany’s shoulders. “She’s simply addled from the laudanum the doctor gave her for her fall. She does not know what she’s saying.”

“She’s been reading too many novels,” her father huffed, though beneath the veneer of bluster, Bethany detected sheer terror in his quivering jowls. “Which has given her a fanciful nature. Best keep your library under lock and key.”

Tench shook his head. “No drug makes a person say such things. And I know your family secret.” He rounded on Bethany’s father with a glare. “She’s mad, just like your mother was. I will not marry a lunatic. Let de Wynter have her.”

With that, the old man stormed out of the study with a surprising spryness for a man of his years, his withered features contorted with injured pride.

Lord Wickshire rose from his desk, face red with fury. “What have you done?” he roared. “Your foolish outburst cost me acres of land and the votes I needed to be the new governor!”

“I love Justus, not Tench,” Bethany stammered. “How could you sell me for votes?”

“All daughters are sold.” He sneered. “It’s all your good for. If I’d had a son...”

“And what about my grandmother?” she persisted. “What did Lord Tench mean about her being mad? You told me she’d died when you were a boy.”

“She was dead to me, once she was committed to bedlam,” Father said coldly. “Just as you’ll be if your so-called vampire doesn’t take your ungrateful, over imaginative hide off of my hands.”

Bethany gasped at his nonchalant words. All these years she’d thought her grandmother was dead and now she learned that instead, she’d suffered a worse fate. And had Father truly threatened to have her committed as well?

She closed her eyes as another wave of dizziness engulfed her from the effects of the laudanum. Perhaps this was a dream. Maybe she’d wake up in her bed, uninjured and ready to prepare for Justus’s proposal.

Her knee gave another throb of pain, refuting that hope.

At least her father had offered her one good thing. He wished to be rid of her enough to allow her to marry Justus. “Lord de Wynter will come for me,” she said coldly. “And then you shall never be burdened with my presence again.”

Her mother gently pulled her away. “Enough, darling. Let’s get you back in bed. You need to rest.”

Her father glared at her, jowls quivering with rage, but he didn’t say a word.

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