In the ton, she would have to shuffle along, perpetuating the rules of her class, popping out babies, and praying for the best. Praying that her husband would treat her with decency and respect, that he would not turn her children against her, that he would not hit her in places that people could not see.
Instead, she was going to choose herownsort of power, herowncoin, and she was going to ensure that her sister was free.
Truly free. And that was all that mattered. Lily would never stand in a hall like this, gazing at portraits of their ancestors, wondering what the bloody hell had happened. Lily would never know the torment of understanding just how dark the world could be.
There was only one answer.
The Duke of Blackwood, the man who had struck her family from society, owed her something, surely. An introduction to freedom if he was going to take everything she’d ever known away.
And she was going to make sure that he paid it.
Chapter 2
Garret Layton, the Duke of Blackwood, lowered himself into the scalding water which filled the copper tub just before the fire.
He let out a half groan of pleasure as his muscles first tensed then one by one began to unknot. There was nothing better in the world than a hot bath, unless it was an ice one.
In the evenings, as the sun lowered and the world was consumed by darkness, he did not take cold baths. No, as the shadows set in, he did everything he could to eradicate the tension that generally held his frame as he thought of a world that was often far from how he wished it was.
There was nothing to be done about the state of the world, of course, except for what he already did do. He could not force people to be as he wished they were.
He’d tried.
It had not gone well.
Hell, it had taken him years in his early youth to accept the fact that people were determined to throw themselves at chaos and misery.
It was the natural instinct of humanity, he’d finally come to understand. He didn’t like it, but he’d finally accepted it. If he had not done so, no doubt he would’ve thrown himself off a cliff years ago.
The agony of his first brush with manhood had left him scarred and dark in a way he couldn’t truly describe. It had left him… different.
Some men seemed to recover from the deaths of their wives and children quickly and with shocking ease.
He never would. He did not wish to. Though he never spoke of Evelyn or the twins, he held the short years of his marriage like a talisman to his heart.
He’d built a wall around the memories of her, of the children he had loved with all his heart.
He had been twenty when they’d married. And he’d been twenty-three when they died.
More than a decade had passed, and no one talked of his early years. Not if they didn’t wish a black look if they were a lady or far worse if they were a man.
Yes, the past had twisted him. Lowering three coffins, two so small he could carry both with ease, had shaped him into a man determined to help and yet to feel nothing.
He closed his eyes and lowered his head to rest on the copper tub, willing the sudden and soul-breaking thoughts away. It was always when shadows kissed the first moments of the night to when the first brushes of dawn swept his room that the true danger lay.
The danger of his pain and his memories bayed at him like wolves hungry for blood. He couldn’t succumb to that black hole, or he would never climb out again.
Yes, Garret acted against the nature of humanity more often than not. It was necessary for his survival. And he knew he had to survive. The alternative was occasionally tempting but not acceptable to him.
He did what he could to help people. He lived every day trying to make the world a bit better, whether it be through Parliament, charity… or war.
He blew out a slow breath as his body hummed with unpleasant feelings.
Garret snapped his gaze open and stared at the flames leaping up in the fireplace. He forced himself to relax his hands, letting his palms float in the water.
Things had gone slowly downhill in the last six months. He ground his teeth, the scalding hot water not doing its usual work. His dear friend Tom and his wife were touring Europe. They were happy.
He hated it.