The rituals of death had tired me, and I felt very cold. Watching a coffin being lowered into the ground can make you feel cold, even in July. You start to think of the day when it’s your turn to get lowered into the cold earth and laid away to eternal darkness. Someone had started a fire in the drawing room. Luca, most likely since it wasn’t me, and Caroline and Mr. Caroline probably had servants for that kind of thing. I could smell it, and drawn to the warmth, I went in to find Luca there. He was just pouring himself a glass of brandy.
He looked up and saw me. His eyes had a hard glint. “Join me,” he said and got another glass. “We’ll have a farewell drink together.”
“Farewell?” I made my voice hold nothing more than passing interest. “Are you leaving?”
Laughter rose from low in his throat, and I began to think he had been drinking for a while before I came in. “Come now, Darcy, this can’t be a surprise to you. Since the day I arrived, you’ve wanted me to leave. There were times I thought it was your life’s work. Still, I suppose it is surprising. I mean, you bullied and begged, all to no purpose, and now with no effort from you, I’m finally going. It’s miraculous.” He paused and moved closer. “Stop frowning,” he said. “It makes you look old. You never did have a pretty smile. But you always had the most attractive frown. But seriously, Jewel’s gone, and that’s why I’m leaving. While she lived, I did my best to show my gratitude, even suffering to live with her insufferable daughters. You were all a dose of bitter medicine in your own way, you know. But it’s pointless to try to show gratitude to the dead. In a way, Jewel released me from my prison.” He motioned around the room and the look he’d worn at the graveside returned fleetingly to his features and was quickly gone. He forced a smile. “But you must not worry. You will do fine alone. After all, you’ve been preparing for something awful to happen most of your life. Now that it finally has, it must be almost a relief.”
“You came to the inn,” I said. “That was awful enough.”
He laughed again. “Ah, Darcy, Darcy. Most people look on tragedy and think, ‘Why me?’ You look on tragedy and say, “Why not me?” He raised the glass to his mouth and drank the last of it. “Enough conversation. I’ll be gone in the morning.”
“Where do you plan on going?”
“Does it matter?” He flashed his dimples at me. “But you’re probably thinking of the money I still owe you. Well, you’ll be happy to know that I’ve left enough for you to divorce me. You can tell them I deserted you. That will simplify things.” He pointed a finger at me, and his face turned suddenly fierce. “But I won’t have you telling anyone that I forced myself on you, even though I could have. Rightfully. You tell them that you’re as much a virgin as the day you were born. Do you hear me?”
“Go to hell!”
He was very angry now. “That doesn’t mean very much to you, does it, Darcy?” His eyes darkened to navy. “How many men do you think would have let you keep your door locked every night when they were in possession of a legal paper that gave them the right to be in your bed? How wasted gallantry is on someone like you.”
“Gallantry, piss! You left me alone because you knew that I could kick your backside from here all the way back to Italy—and because you had whores in that house in the woods.”
The smirk hadn’t left my face before he was on top of me, his arm around my waist. Dragging me across the room, he pushed me down on the couch. I could feel its old springs digging in my back, as the weight of him made us both sink down into threadbare upholstery. I turned my face away.
“Get off me, you son of a bitch!”
“Look at me!” he said.
“Leave me alone,” I answered, my face still averted.
His hand reached up to tangle in my hair, and I winced as his grip tightened, forcing my head around.
“Kiss me, Darcy, kiss me goodbye…” He held my chin.
“Get away from me.”
“Are you stronger than me? Answer me. Are you?”
“Yes!” Tears pricked my eyes from the stinging in my scalp. “What—what are you doing?” He was pinning my arms behind my back, using my own weight to confine me. He was stronger than I would have thought. The face of an aristocrat on the body of a laborer. The muscles of his arms strained against the material of his shirt. His legs were muscled, too, though the one maimed in the accident had shriveled somewhat. I felt the muscles of his thighs against my own, and then his knees forcing my legs apart. He loomed over me, unsmiling now, his breath laced with the smell of brandy and coming in great gasps. I could hardly breathe myself with him pressing into me, and maybe it was this that made me go suddenly limp. It was over. He could do whatever he liked with me. What was there to lose? I had no family left, no sisters, no mother, nothing to struggle for, nothing to hope
