Discovering the Devil

T w e n t y - e i g h t

"Whatever you loved, you could not help it. Even I loved a piece of him." This was a lie. Penelope didn't think she'd ever loved her father. She couldn't even if she wanted to. The count had been a distant figure in her early years—positively glacial. He did not ask of his daughter or have her sit on his lap or read her stories. He did nothing to encourage any kind of relationship. When Penelope learned of his brutality, it took no time for her indifference to harden to hate. Still. She owed it to her mother to feign some sort of affection for him. When he was alive, Penelope had always suspected the countess was disappointed they'd never been able to bond.

"If only I could've given you a better father."

The countess' voice was so mournful it beckoned tears to Penelope's eyes. "I didn't need a father. I have the best mother known to man."

"Such flattery, Pen."

Penelope wrapped an arm around her mother's shoulders and pulled her close. "It is not flattery. It's true."

"If it were true, you wouldn't be at that house."

"Mama, please. Not today."

"Today is the perfect day, actually. I know that it's my fault. I exposed you to that...curse."

Penelope's eyebrows rose. "What?"

"We tell ourselves many things when we are broken and beaten. I know it is difficult—"

"---Wait, what? Are you insinuating..." The countess would not meet her eyes. Penelope's stomach dropped. "He is not...he would never! What on earth gave you that idea?"

"I know it for a fact, Penelope," the duchess said slowly. "Someone told me."

"Whoever said it, I assure you, they're lying," Penelope said. Who had fed her this poison? Why?

"Oh, Penelope." The countess was beside herself.

"It's not true! What did they even say?"

"So, your wrist was never bruised?"

Penelope squeezed her eyes shut and cursed herself silently. Mildred. She never would've dreamed that girl had taken her word so seriously. But then again, why wouldn't she? Everyone thought Harry was the Devil, and now she had confirmed it. "It was an accident, Mama, I swear. It is not what you think."

The countess shook her head. "I know it feels like you do, but you do not have to go back Penelope. Come home, my love."

She stared into her mother's heartbroken eyes. "He is not hurting me—I swear it."

Diana wiped the last of her tears. "I love you, dear. I love you so much."

Damn, it all. Her mother would never believe her. The more she insisted, the more convinced her mother would be that Harry was a monster. It was not unlike the first time Penelope had confronted the countess about the count. She suppressed an ironic smile. "I love you, too." What more was there to say?"

Penelope urged the driver to Hawthorne as fast as he was able. No sooner had the carriage entered the drive did she fly out of the door and into Harry's study doors. He was in his office frowning at a stack of papers.

"Miss Redwood," he greeted.

Penelope pressed an anxious kiss against his cheek. "Are you all right?"

"Just fine."

"Have you noticed anything strange recently? Anyone? Maybe an odd robbery, or men following you on the road?"

Harry gave her a confused look. "Pardon?"

"You might have to think hard. They wouldn't have been conspicuous, my mother would've hired someone good."