Page 82 of Courting Claudia
“Baubie talks too much. Always has. I should have fired her years ago.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
He shrugged. “Probably not. She makes the best shortbread in London.”
“Yes, she does. I’ll have her make you some shortbread. I’m going to go home now. Send for me if you need me, but only if it is an emergency. Otherwise, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He grabbed her wrists. “You must leave him, Claudia. He’ll ruin you.”
She jerked her hands free. “I cannot leave him. He is my husband. He’s a wonderful man. You’ll see once you get to know him properly. Perhaps we can have dinner together.” She knelt to pour some scented oil into the water to soothe her father’s muscles.
“Do not bring that man into my house.” His words dripped with hatred.
She felt her body stiffen. Then she slowly rose to a standing position, put the scented oil down. Let his valet worry about any aching muscles.
“Father, you must accept Derrick sooner or later. He’s a part of my life now.”
“Foolish girl.”
“I shall see you tomorrow. Get some rest. And stay away from the brandy.”
She closed the bedroom door and leaned against it. He was like a different man. She’d never seen such pleading in his eyes before. Nor had she heard him plead. For anything. Ever. Something in him had changed.
He’d said it was that he’d finally realized he needed her, but she doubted that. It didn’t make sense. He’d never so much as had a civil conversation with her. Instead he’d spent their time together berating her for poor decisions and challenging her to straighten up. Meaning stop playing with her art and marry Richard.
Now her father was panicking because he’d lost control over her life. As much as she knew that was the real reason for his newfound attitude toward her, she couldn’t turn her back on him. He needed her, maybe not for the right reasons, but it was a start.
But she refused to allow him to disparage her husband. She could come to terms with her husband and father never liking each other, but they would have to be civil. She wouldn’t be torn between them.
How had her life ended in such a state? Amonth ago, she’d been content to marry Richard. Had believed she had plenty of time to do so. Granted, she hadn’t been in a hurry, because she hadn’t wanted to marry him. Not really.
But he’d never seemed as if he’d wanted to marry her either. Or else he would have proposed. Generally if a man was ready to marry and had the girl’s father’s permission, the wedding date was set. But Richard had stalled. Why, she’d never know.
But now everything had changed. She was free to continue illustrating, but according to her father, she had married the wrong man. And now Richard was dead.
Chapter 18
It was late afternoon, almost evening, by the time she got home, and the sun had already set. She climbed the stairs to the bedroom, eager to wash the stench of alcohol from her body. After her father had spilled the foul liquid on her dress and feet, he’d proceeded to touch her more than he had ever done in her life, leaving in his wake the foul odor of day-old liquor. Week-old, perhaps.
No doubt she smelled of the streets.
Upon entering their bedroom, she found Derrick sitting and staring at the door with a dark scowl across his face. His eyes landed on her, and he immediately stood.
“I’m trying hard not to yell at you right now. I’m very angry, but I do not want to frighten you. You’ve spent too much of your life being afraid.”
She said nothing, simply stood there.
“Where the hell have you been?” His words came out in tight clips, squeezed between his teeth.
“First tell me why you are angry,” she cautiously answered.
“Because I asked you to stay here. And if you had to leave the house, only to go and visit Poppy. Well, I know you weren’t there, because I checked myself. Where were you, Claudia?”
“I went to see my father. He sent letters while we were away, begging me to come home. He said he was ill, that he needed me.”
“Was he ill?”
“Not precisely. Inebriated is more the term, I believe.” She pulled her gloves off, then began unpinning her hat.