A Brazen Maiden (#1 BRAZEN series-part of the GOLDEN universe) ✔

•T H I R T E E N•

♪ Fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do ♪
{John Mayer—Daughters}
{This song choice is meant to be ironic, FYI—since the chapter includes/introduces Eugene Thatcher! Hehe}

There he stood—raven hair peppered with silver, stubble on his chin, a bushier-than-usual mustache over his upper lip, his gray eyes a smoldering smoke shade.

"Daughter dearest, you are here!" For the briefest of moments his voice was sincere; a trick he played in presence of others, not wanting anyone to hear how condescending and cruel he was. "Come, embrace your father!"

Harriet refrained from recoiling and spitting on the ground as she wanted to. Esther stood near, as did the butler who had opened the Parlor doors, letting Harriet into the hearth-warmed room.

But there was no warmth there; anywhere Eugene was, heat became ice.

"Father, a pleasure," she said, keeping her tone reverent, though on the inside she craved to scream, insult him.

"Ah, yes—" the way he hugged her was so stiff, Harriet's spine became rigid and bile climbed up her throat to settle in her mouth. Eugene let go of her, struggling not to frown, and waved at the butler. "Might we have a spot of tea? A bit of brandy added to mine." He smiled, but in such a demeaning manner it made Harriet wince. "And shut the doors, please; I wish to speak with my daughter alone."

Harriet glanced at the butler, praying distress and panic sprawled across her face. Praying to show a desperate desire for someone else to attend this meeting with her, protect her from her father's low blows and whatever crude stories he prepared to tell her.

But the butler, if perceiving Harriet's paralysis, said nothing, and pulled the ornate glass doors shut.

Locked in with the man she most abhorred, and uncertain what he wanted, Harriet fought to keep conscious.

"That staff is so off-putting." His shoulders slouched at once, and the belly hiding beneath his silky burgundy coat protruded. "They feign admiration towards me when in fact they all fear me. I hate this place, Harriet—I do."

He only lets me stay for Mother's sake...

With a deep breath, she settled on the sofa beside him and gauged his features. He'd gained a few lines near his eyes, a few eerie red marks on his neck, and sported a different pair of boots—polished, without mud or scrapes. "I hope your trip was comfortable, Father?"

Keeping her courtesies and biting her tongue had always been difficult in front of Eugene. Some days he tolerated her, and some days the slightest sound fluttering past her lips reddened his cheeks and caused his temples to pulsate and throb. Some days he ignored her, as if she were a specter that floated near him but never touched him. And others he made it his goal to cause her to shrink with guilt at being alive.