Bound To Bea

Chapter Thirty Two

"Trapped?" Her emotions tumbled over themselves, making her dizzy.

"How else did ya fin' I managed ter convince Lord Atkins ter take ya in?"

"Take me in? Like I'm some sort of stray, rabid dog."

"Ya might as well 'ave been wahn, Beatrice. You're butters, undesirable. If ya 'ad possessed an ounce of beauty, I wouldn't 'ave needed ter stoop so low as to get a gentleman drunk and swindle 'im in a game of cards. In exchange for losing, Lord Atkins agreed ter take ya in as 'is wife and see to both our care."

Trickery. So that was what it took to get Oliver to marry her.

Beatrice made a fist as she listened to her father's revelation. Anger welled up in her heart, tightening her chest until she feared she might suffer a heart attack. Yet, she felt a sense of pity for Oliver. Like her, Oliver had been manipulated into marrying to her. There was also no doubt in her mind that Oliver thought she had known and perhaps even planned with her father to entrap him. It was certainly no wonder he loathed her so much. It was no wonder he treated her so poorly.

"You mustn't speak ill of the dead," she spoke through tight lips. Her relationship—or lack of—with Oliver had simply been because of a great misunderstanding. Even now, she wished she could make him see she was as much a victim in her father's scheme as he had been. Perhaps if he knew she was tricked as well...

Would knowledge of the truth have changed anything? Would Oliver have treated her with a little more respect? Would he have loved her?She sighed, knowing she would never know the answer to those questions; knowing her father had ruined her life and the life of an innocent man.

"Oliver failed ter keep 'is part of the bargain when he willed everythin' to 'is cousin, leavin' us bod impoverished. It is only fair he burns in hell."

"And perhaps the hottest part of hell shall be reserved for a man such as yourself, Mr. Hobbs. For tricking an innocent man, for ruining his life!" It irked her beyond description to listen to her father point an accusatory finger at a man who bore a guilt far less than his.

"I didn't put the gun ter 'is head!"

"You might as well have! You forced us both into a loveless marriage for your own greed!"

"I did it for ya! Everythin' I did was for ya!"

"Everything you do is for yourself!" she yelled, throwing her hands in the air in frustration. "You scheme your way through life and when nothing goes your way, you resort to violence!"

"I will never willingly hurt ya!"

"Perhaps I must show you the bruises?" She reached for her sleeve, where a faint scar from her childhood still lined her left arm.

"I 'ave made mistakes..." He circled the bed, causing her to back away. He paused in his tracks. "But I 'ave tried ter correct those mistakes."

Shaking her head, she took several steps back until she bumped into the wall. "You never—"

"I was wrong! The last time I... I didn't mean..." He sighed, shaking his head. "When I realized wot I 'ad done, I carried ya in me arms. All night, I carried ya ter safety; ter Lord Camden's home," he said, stunning her to silence. "I hid in the bushes until I watched 'im carry ya inside."

She shook her head, confused, dumbfounded. Mr. Hobbs took her to Camden?! How was it even possible? Why would he assault her, then take her to safety? It made little sense.

"Why?" she murmured.

"I'm your father."

"Stop saying that!" she half yelled, turning from him.