my father sign a contract detailing that he would hand me over in return for use of the Mason land.”
“Are you sure?” It wasn’t that he didn’t believe her. Mason had no sons, no family, and it wasn’t as though fathers didn’t regularly bargain their daughters away in marriage, but she had been so young. Fourteen years old was too little to have been just given away. Although not to a powerful duke who got everything he demanded.
He just didn’t understand why. The old duke was charming enough that he had women falling over themselves to be his duchess without even considering his monetary worth. Blake imagined it was that charm that also first attracted his mother. She was not the type of woman to marry for anything less than a man who would treat her right.
So if his sire could have had anyone, why would he need a fourteen-year-old girl who wasn’t willing? Then again, his father’s problem had never been in attracting women, his problem had always been keeping them once they discovered his temper. His mother had left the estate because she had been beaten. His memories of her bruises would never fade in his mind no matter the time that passed.
“I had to flee. I had no choices then, Blake. No way to say no. To beg my father to see what he did was wrong. You and I both know how he coveted those lands. When old Mr. Mason was found hanging in his barn, the magistrate came to ask my father the first questions. No one actually accused him, but there were whispers that he tied the knot that killed that kind old man.”
“You put too much stock in whispers. Mr. Mason was riddled with disease, dying a slow and agonizing death. Your dad didn’t hang the man and if he did, Mr. Mason would have begged him to do it. There are two sides to every tale, and I think you’ve put all your faith in the only ones to reach your ears.”
Her body stiffened, her chin rose and her eyes flashed fire. “Is that a kind way of telling me I overreacted?”
“That is not what I’m saying. And you haven’t really answered the original question. You say you didn’t want us to stop you. But that is not what I asked. In your first note, your hastily scrawled note to your brother, you didn’t even mention my name. I never warranted a how-do-you-do in your second either.” By the time the words flowed from his mouth like a flood of spring rain, he longed to take them back. At least ask them without a boy’s insecurities driving them. But it was too late.
“I... I...don’t know what to say. All of those letters were for Matthew. I had to let him know I was all right.”
“The second letter came to me. Inside an empty envelope with my name on it was a letter to Matthew, but what of me?” Where did this all come from? And how could he dam the flow?
Chapter Six
The only sound for a full five minutes was the clip clop and squelch of the horses’ hooves against the dirt road, only slightly muffled by the slippery mud. Their rhythmic pace was a better distraction than Sophia’s nervous fidgeting. Each time she opened her mouth to say something she just snapped it shut again.
What was she supposed to tell him? That she had sent the letters to him because she feared her father would intercept them at home, but knew Blake’s uncle would be too drunk to notice the mail? That she hadn’t fled until after she had been raped and beaten and locked in a dark room with only her own cries of help to let her know she was still alive, still there. Rationality had no place in her actions in those early days.
Or that’s what she remembered. Thinking back was dangerous. All the pain, the fear. For two days she had traveled by foot, no shoes or stockings. Each step caused pain in so many places on her battered body, but still she didn’t stop. Her hastily packed satchel held only one borrowed dress, a comb for her hair and a spare set of underthings that were far too big. She had nothing to sell if it came to it. All she could lay claim to in the world had been left behind. She dared not return to her father’s house. She dared not tarry lest she