The Wrong Girl

Chapter 10

I stood abruptly and caught the arm of his chair. "I am asking you, Mr. Langley." I suddenly wasn't afraid of him anymore. What could a crippled man do to me? If Bollard were there it may be a different matter, but he wasn't. If Langley turned me out, I'd return to Windamere. "Is Jack your blood relative?"

"Let go of my chair, Violet."

"Answer me, Mr. Langley."

He caught my sleeve and dragged me down to his level. His face was a distorted mask of anger, his mouth a twisted gash. "You do not tell me what to do."

Something inside me shattered, and I jerked free of his grip. I did not step back. I did not look away or run for the door. I would not fear this man, nor would I endure any more of his lies and threats. If I wanted to walk away, I would. I had been kept prisoner at Windamere for fifteen years. I'd been denied a life, and even if that life had turned out to be a dire, desperate one, at least it would have been mine to make of it what I could.

I'd had enough of being told what to do and how to conduct myself. Enough of being told to accept my condition and situation, that I ought to consider myself lucky. I wasn't lucky. I was a prisoner, and I'd be damned if I would endure it on anyone else's terms anymore, especially someone as nasty as Langley.

"You let Jack think I told you about his visit to Patrick," I said, choosing the one thing I knew the answer to. The one thing I could absolutely blame him for without a doubt. "Why? Why didn't you tell him it was Bollard?"

His lips peeled back and he bared his teeth. "I already told you I don't answer to you." He spat out each word as if they were poison on his tongue. "Your father may be an earl, but here, that means nothing. You're nobody. Your opinion means nothing, your questions even less. You are our prisoner, and I do not answer your questions."

His voice rang in my ears, throbbed in my veins. My blood rose like a tidal wave, rushed through me, fast and fierce. Hot. It was so loud that I hardly heard the door open, but I turned just in time to see Jack enter, Bollard at his heels.

"No!" Jack shouted. His brows crashed together in a deep frown. "Stop it, August. Are you mad?" Sparks flew from his fingers onto the floor, but he quickly stomped them out as he approached us. "Tell her she's not a prisoner. Tell her she can come and go. Tell her!"

Langley laughed, the sound like fingernails down a blackboard. "Of course she can't leave. You know that as well as I do."

"Jack!" I cried. "Is that true?"

But Jack's gaze was fixed on his uncle. It was filled with such fury that I was amazed his fingers didn't explode. "I will not be a party to this." His voice was quiet, cold, and filled me with dread.

"You can't leave, Violet," Langley said. "Jack has known this all along. He's been keeping an eye on you. Lying to you. We all have."

Everything dimmed, and I thought I was going to fall asleep at the worst possible moment, but then my vision cleared, only to see sparks spraying around the room like fireworks. So many of them. Too many.

They landed on the curtain, the floor, the table and even in Langley's lap. He yelped and swatted them just as the curtain went up in a whoosh of flames. Some of the furniture had caught alight, the floorboards too.

We had to get out.

"My research!" Langley cried, wheeling himself toward the laboratory.

"Not now!" Jack cried. "Bollard!"

Bollard rushed past me, and I stumbled forward, my body suddenly heavy, my head filled with cotton wool. Jack caught me and picked me up. We didn't combust. That was something. I was a rag doll in his arms. Exhaustion dragged at me, pulling me into a slumber. But I did not fall asleep.