The Rebel Bride by Catherine Coulter

“Lifeless she lay in her bed, those evil green eyes of her just staring, only staring— at me, blaming me. And her damned fool mother, half-crazed, crooning over her, praying to God all the time to save her little girl. How I hated that, praying to God! And she trucked with evil, with the devil.”

Suddenly Sir Oliver felt his voice choked off by a painful tightening in his chest. The blood pounded in his temples, and for several agonizing seconds he couldn’t breathe. As quickly as the pain had come, it receded, and he gulped in the precious air, feeling his chest expand again with life. He tried to remember what he had been saying, and the image of Katharine as a child rose before him, her large, silent eyes staring at him, so much fear in those child’s eyes, then that damned blankness that she had to be feigning. He heard himself give a crack of laughter.

“When she recovered, she forgot. But I reminded her, yes, I didn’t tell her what she’d done, but I beat her, to keep the wickedness out of her, so she wouldn’t do it again.” Sir Oliver’s eyes blazed again in sudden passion. “Don’t you understand? All I tried to do was save her soul from eternal damnation, but I failed, I know I did.”

He paused and looked up to see the earl still standing motionless by the fireplace, a curious, unreadable expression on his face. “She fooled you too, my dear lord earl, did she not? You believed her so very innocent, so guileless, indeed, you probably admired that evil red hair of hers, those green eyes that just stared and stared when she was lying there.”

Julien didn’t answer, just waited, for there would be more, and he wanted to hear it. Sir Oliver sat forward in his chair, a look of grim satisfaction marking his mouth. “Allow me to wish you much pleasure with your virgin wife, my lord. But beware that she doesn’t cuckold you before your precious heir is born.”

Julien looked dispassionately at the leering old man before him. He felt moved by a deep tenderness for his wife. He felt a helpless sense of pity and regret at her having spent so many years with this twisted man. If only it wasn’t too late for her now.

“It happened at the copse, in the wooded area close to Brandon Hall?” He was pleased at the continued calm of his voice, but it was difficult, one of the most difficult things he’d ever had to do.

“Eh?” Sir Oliver looked with confusion at his son-in-law.

“The copse— the place where Katharine was raped,” Julien repeated.

“One of her favorite haunts, that copse.” Sir Oliver’s voice rose suddenly. “It was her own private kingdom, I would hear her say to her mother. But I know why she went there, yes, to traffic with the devil, to learn the evilness of her body, to let those men come to her and play with her and defile her.”

Oh, God, it was enough, too much. Julien pushed away from the mantel. He wanted now nothing more than to leave this suffocating room that held only twisted hatred. “I have no more to ask you. You have provided me with all the information I need.”

Julien straightened and walked quickly to the door. He added softly as he turned the knob, “Of course you will understand that Katharine won’t be paying you a visit. Indeed, I doubt you will ever see either of us again. And don’t you, Sir Oliver, attempt to see her. What you’ve done to your own daughter— Never mind. You’re beyond help, twisted and perverted. It’s too late for you. But not for her. I won’t allow it ever to be too late for her.”

As he pulled the doors closed firmly behind him, he saw Sir Oliver gazing blankly down at his hands. He found that he didn’t want to kill the man or even strike him. He just wanted to get away from him and his venom.

“Your coat and hat, my lord.”

“Thank you, Filber.” Julien shrugged himself into his greatcoat and moved rapidly to the front doors.