The Solemn Bell (9 page)

Brody’s heart thumped in double-time as he entered the house. His sweetheart would be in her kitchen, snug on her little pallet in front of the stove. She might even be asleep. He planned to wake her with a kiss. What a shock she’d get! She would wrap her arms around him and squeal with delight. He would hold her until she knew he would never, ever leave her again.

His eyes weren’t quite adjusted to the dark, but he found the servants’ corridor easily enough. Then, he descended the creaking kitchen steps, remembering how she’d barred the door from his demons. Brody did not carry the Devil anymore. He’d bucked him months ago.

Searching the dim space, he found Angelica in front of the stove, toweling off her hair. When she heard his boots touch the slate tile floor, she turned to face him.

“I didn’t expect—” She stopped herself mid-sentence. A look of pained confusion slashed across her beautiful face.
 

In Brody’s deepest, darkest dreams, he’d never forgot how blue her eyes were, but, to see them now—finally!—robbed him of his breath.

“Angelica.”

She stiffened, almost in disbelief. “Captain Neill. What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, crossing the room. “I’ve come back, just like I promised.”

“It’s been four months…”

Brody noticed, for the first time, that she wasn’t dressed. She wore only her thin chemise and a pair of wool stockings. Even in the dark, he could see the outline of her dusky nipples through the fabric. If he dared look down, he might see a great deal more.
 

He kept his eyes glued to hers. “I’ve surprised you. Forgive me.”

Angelica must have known how exposed her body was to his gaze. She crossed her arms over her breasts. “No, you’re too late…it’s too late. You should leave.”

“Too late? Too late for what?”

He didn’t understand. He’d dragged himself through hell—for her. He was back. He was better. Why wasn’t she weeping with joy?

She waved him off, as if he were a fly. As if he were nothing to her. “I’ve moved on, Brody. Quite forgotten all about you. In fact, I have someone else now. He’d be furious to find you here.”

Someone else.
Her words struck him dumb. He just…couldn’t fathom it. How could she have someone else? They’d only been apart for a few months. “You have a gentleman?”

“I have a lover.”

Brody thought he would be sick. It could not be true. “You’ve given yourself to him?”

“You mean, have we fucked? Oh, yes. Many times.”

He had to sit down before he dropped. Brody fumbled toward the kitchen stool like he was the blind one. His head spun. His stomach reeled. Sweet, innocent Angelica Grey did not say those words. She did not
know
those words. Whores spoke like that. Dope-girls begging for a needle spoke like that. Not the woman he loved.

“Why didn’t you wait for me?” he sobbed.

She leaned her hip carelessly against the worktable. “I did. For three months. That’s a great deal longer than the few weeks we originally agreed upon. I was heartbroken. You’d put me aside. So, when another man came along, I vowed not to waste another chance at happiness.”

He dragged his eyes up to hers. So cold. Like a dead thing. “Does he love you?”

She laughed. She actually laughed in his face at the mention of the word. “Oh, Brody.”

His voice was sharp. “Tell me.”

She sighed, and finally said, “I don’t want love. I’m not sure I even believe in it.”

“All this time, while I was dreaming of nothing but you, while I was praying for the day when we could be together again, you were spreading your legs for another man. A man that doesn’t even love you!” He nearly spat. “Who are you, Angelica? What happened to the girl I fell in love with?”

“You abandoned her.”

“I did not! It took longer than expected to get back here, and for that I am sorry. But I never abandoned you. You abandoned
me
. My God, Angelica. You didn’t even try to wait for me.” When she didn’t argue, he barreled on, “I came back to ask you to marry me. I have a ring in my pocket that I hoped to place on your finger tonight!”

She looked like he’d slapped her. At last, his words hit home. The full weight of everything she had destroyed came crashing down upon her, and Angelica Grey crumbled. “You wanted to marry me…”

“I did. But not now.”

A tear streaked down her face. “No, not now. You couldn’t.”

Brody dragged himself to his feet. She was so small and pale in his shadow. She might have thought whatever sort of relationship she’d entered into was mutually beneficial, but Brody knew how men treated fast women. What chaps really thought of girls who spread their legs too easily.
 

How was Angelica going to survive, labeled as a whore and a slut? She could not possibly know what trouble she’d got herself into. There’d be no end to it now.

She might not love him, and he might not be willing to marry her, but if Brody walked out on her tonight, he might as well be putting her on the streets. Her house would be crawling with men looking for an easy lay.

“Angelica, you cannot stay here.”

She tilted her head. “Why not?”

“It may only be one visitor now, but eventually, he’ll brag to his friends—if he hasn’t already—and, some night, an entire group of them might come for you. Do you understand what I’m saying? A pack of men bearing down on you. Did you even know a woman’s body can take three men at once?”

Her unfixed eyes widened. He’d shocked her. Good. She needed to have some sense scared into her.
 

“They will use you, abuse you, and pass you around like a bottle of cheap whiskey. Oh, you’ll beg, plead, and protest. But they won’t care. You won’t be a woman to them anymore. You’ll be nothing more than a piece of meat.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’ve seen it happen. Say a respectable girl from a good family finds herself hooked on cocaine, or perhaps opium. She pays easily at first, but the price goes up. That’s how they get you—the dealers. Once they’ve hooked their claws into you, you’ll do anything for a taste. They know it. And you know it, too.”
 

He paused, debating whether to go further. He didn’t want Angelica knowing how rotten the world was. But, if he didn’t tell her, she might find out the hard way. “Eventually, the girl can’t afford her habit. Ah, well. Perhaps the dealer could strike a bargain—help them both out—just this once. But it’s never just once. Before she knows it, she’s on her back every night.”

Angelica shook her head. “That has nothing to do with me.”

“It’s the principal. Give it away easily, and it becomes a cheap thing,” he said. “Every time you let that man push into you, you cheapen yourself.” Brody grabbed her discarded, moth-eaten frock and pressed it to her chest. “Get dressed.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Brody tore down the country lane. Angelica had protested, but in the end, she admitted he was right. The man she gave her body to did not respect her. Men who respected women did not make them do the things she’d done—Angelica confessed some of her experiences on their drive toward Shrewsbury, and all he could do was shake his head. Brody had engaged in all manner of raunchy things over the years, but to know that sweet, innocent Angelica Grey had been subjected to such debauchery was almost more than he could bear.

For four long months, he worshipped her. Now, every time he glanced over at her, he couldn’t shake the image of her being taught how to suck a man. Not that he hadn’t pleasured himself thinking of her performing that very same act—he was no hypocrite—but, if she was going to take him into her mouth, it would only be when she felt safe and comfortable enough to enjoy it.
 

If they weren’t both having fun, what was the point?

Brody was furious with her, but Angelica wasn’t the only one to blame. He should have told her his plan from the start. She would not have liked it, but she would have at least understood why he couldn’t come back straight away.
 

He thought the first night without morphine had been awful, but going a week…a fortnight…a month…had been utter hell. Even now, the urge scratched at the back of his mind. He felt strong enough to fight it, though he had not been at first. It took three months for him to feel confident enough to walk out of that hospital, and another thirty days before he drove toward Angelica’s house.

Brody had given up—or given away—everything tying him to his old life. He had only a Bentley car and a diamond ring to his name. He’d wanted desperately to give that ring to Angelica, but it was too late for that. His future wife had allowed herself to be defiled and debased on so many levels. Her sweetness had been corroded. Worst of all, she’d thrown her promise back in his face.

What sort of person waited a mere three months before jumping into bed with a stranger? Angelica Grey was not trusting, not faithful. She couldn’t have hurt him more if she’d actually cuckolded him.

He felt betrayed.

Looking at her made him physically sick.

But there were plenty of times when looking at himself in the mirror had made him sick. If Brody could overcome his own past, surely there was hope for Angelica, too. Perhaps, in time, he could see past what she’d done.

He steered the motorcar through the outskirts of Shrewsbury. There was no way they could show up at his parents’ door at this late hour. He wasn’t even sure he could bring Angelica there at all. He needed time to think. So, when he found an unassuming inn on a quiet street, Brody pulled to the kerb.
 

Angelica stirred. She’d been sleeping, he realized. “Where are we?”

“Stopping for the night,” he said, gruffly. “Stay in the car while I get us a room.”

“Don’t leave me!” Her hand shot out to grab his sleeve.

Of course, she was terrified. Only a cad would leave a blind girl alone, at night, in a strange city.
 

“You’ll be fine.”
 

When he returned ten minutes later, she was a shivering ball of fear huddled on the Bentley’s floorboard. He reached in and pulled her out. A small part of him enjoyed tormenting her, but he hated seeing her like this.
 

“It’s all right, Angelica. You’re on the pavement. Come this way.” He led her to the door. “A small step up.” She fished for it with the toe of her shoe. When she safely made it into the inn, he carefully guided her up the narrow staircase. “Twelve in all. There we go. We’re on the landing now.”

Beneath his grip, her pulse raced like a trapped hare, but, together, they made it to their room. He was proud of her. Stumbling through the dark could not have been easy, especially when she had not left home in seven years.
 

“Very good, Angelica. You did well.”

She felt for the mattress and sank down onto the bed. A fire glowed in the grate. In the warm, orange light, Brody saw tears in her eyes. He wanted to go to her, to kiss them away. Instead, he took an armchair by the fire and began unlacing his boots.

She shucked out of his greatcoat. “What are you going to do with me?”

“I don’t know yet. Have you any suggestions?”

Her shoulders sagged. “You should have left me behind.”

“No matter how much I hate you right now, I would never do that,” he said, tugging off one boot, and then the other. “If I’m partly responsible for your downfall, then I suppose I’m partly responsible for the consequences of your actions. And you, my girl, have gotten yourself into a pickle.”

Angelica smiled in spite of herself. “You’re gallant.”

“Seriously though, I’m at a loss. If you come up with something viable, by all means, tell me.”

Eventually, she asked, “Would you describe this room to me?”

Brody glanced around. It was a humble space. “You’ve found the bed, obviously. There’s a pair of night tables, and a lamp atop the one closest to you. A chair by the fire—which I am currently occupying—and a wardrobe to your right. There is a bathroom straight ahead, but no toilet. The lavatory is down the hall, I imagine. This place is ancient.”

“Is it…pretty? Quaint, at least?” she asked. “Would two young lovers spend their honeymoon here?”

He frowned. “It’s a half-timbered, Tudor affair. Low and dark.”

“Just how I like it.”

“Don’t be grim, Angelica. I know this isn’t ideal, but it’s our reality. Now, why don’t you try to get some sleep? It has been a long night, and you’ll feel better in the morning.”

She began stripping out of her clothes. He couldn’t help but watch as she unhooked her frock and hauled it over her head. She popped off her leather boots, but left her stockings. Down to only her long chemise and drawers, Angelica crawled beneath the heavy counterpane.

After tossing and turning for a moment, she finally found a comfortable spot on her back. She fluffed the pillow behind her head. It was all so obnoxiously adorable that Brody had to bite back a smile. If she had not betrayed him, every night together could be like this.

“Are you coming in?” she asked him, her eyes staring past the low, beamed ceiling overhead. After all, it was a double bed. Far larger than her pitiful pallet on the kitchen floor back home. Plenty of room for two.

If Brody went to her, he’d want to put his arms around her. He’d been careful with her before, choosing to cuddle her rather than grope. She’d been an innocent then. Now—well and truly stripped of her virginity—she was fair game.
 

And also wholly depended on him for everything. He was no saint, but Brody drew the line at preying upon those not in a position to say no.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

There were sounds. So many sounds. Strangers’ voices. Singing birds. Barking dogs. Motorcar horns. Laughter, and shouting. Neighbors greeting one another in the street. Angelica had almost forgot the noise of the world. She lay in bed, the covers snug and warm around her, and simply listened.

Last night, she’d been too miserable to be curious. She’d been terrified. Captain Neill’s anger—his warnings of impending rape and possible sexual enslavement—had weakened her resolve, bending her to his will. But he had kidnapped her, really. Stolen her from home, and dragged her across the countryside in the dead of night.