A Devious Lot (Antiques & Collectibles Mysteries Book 5) (22 page)

She closed her eyes and conjured up an image of Julius in her mind—his beautiful smile, his deep blue eyes. She remembered how his hands had felt around her waist when she’d slipped on the floor at the Great Exhibition and he’d steadied her. She knew he loved her with all his heart, and she knew there would always be a special place in her heart for him, but one day, the image of his face would fade, the sound of his voice would be forgotten. And on that terrible day, she knew she would truly be alone.

Lillian fluttered her eyes open. They were almost there. Victor was rocking on his heels, his big stomach straining against his jacket, his thinning hair combed back from a high sweaty forehead. Lillian hated the sight of him. His smell was even worse: cigars and liquor permeated his clothes and breath.

What was Julius doing at that very moment? she wondered. Was he thinking of her? Was he looking at the portrait of her eye? Did he wear it close to his heart? She missed him so much, it was a physical ache. Her head began to hurt.

Lifting her gaze, she saw her mother was watching her with a sad expression. Lillian tried to smile, to reassure her, but it would have been a lie. She would never be happy married to Victor. He wanted her as a possession, and her mother knew it. She felt her father watching her as well, and when her eyes met his, a glimmer of his old self crossed his face. It was only a brief moment, but she’d seen the love and pity in his eyes.

Without thinking, she said out loud, “Why are you doing this to me?” Her father looked shocked. He opened his mouth, but closed it without answering. The carriage slowed as Edmund began to rein in the horses. “You know what Victor is,” she said quietly and quickly. “I know Percy came to see you, that he told you about Whitechapel. Please don’t make me do this.”

Still, her father said nothing. Her mother turned to him and said, “What is this about Percy and Whitechapel?”

Lillian waited for her father to reply, but the carriage had stopped in front of the house and Victor was coming toward them.

“He said nothing but falsehoods,” her father said. Then he pointed a finger at Lillian. “You will do as you’re told. Do not embarrass us.”

Edmund came down and opened the carriage door. Lillian waited for her mother to step out first. She wished Edmund would wait for her, but he moved aside when Victor stepped forward to take his place and offered Lillian his hand. She had no choice but to take it, and was glad she was wearing gloves. His round face was glistening in the sun, and his sour body odor made her sick to her stomach. She knew his hands would be damp.

“At last, you are here,” he said.

Lillian couldn’t speak. Her father talked to him as they walked into the house together. Lillian stared at the woods behind the great mansion, wanting to lift her skirts and run into the trees and hide there forever. She wished she was a man. If she was a man she could do what she wanted. She could purchase a small cottage and live it in forever, far away from this prison house and these strangers who called themselves her parents and protectors.

“My dear?” Victor’s voice brought her back to reality. She found herself in the grand hallway, feeling as if the house was watching her, the way Victor watched her with his beady eyes. “Allow me to give you a tour,” he said. “Then we’ll have tea in the garden.”

Reluctantly, Lillian walked through the house with him and her parents. Her father offered many words of praise as Victor showed them the vast rooms and expensive furnishings. It was so still and quiet, she wondered where all the servants had gone, and finally asked.

“I gave most of them the day off,” Victor said. “Cook has prepared tea. But come, there’s more to see.” When they reached the door of his study, he said, “I’m working with an architect on plans to improve the gardens and add an extension to the back of the house.”

“Why?” Lillian asked.

He looked at her curiously. “Why?”

“Your house is enormous,” she said. “Your children don’t live with you. Why do you desire a bigger house?”

His eyes flashed. “I hope we’ll have many children,” he said.

Lillian stared at him. The thought of him touching her made her feel dizzy.

“May we have tea now?” she asked. Dear Lord, she needed air.

“Of course,” he said.

They went outdoors, and Lillian was pleasantly surprised. Where the house was cavernous and cold, the garden was warm and bright, with lovely flowers and fountains. It was such a peaceful setting, she knew if she was forced to live there, she would spend as much time as she could in the garden.

Her parents walked ahead of her and Victor, and he leaned toward her and whispered in her ear, “I will have a kiss, and more, from you before the day is done.”

She had so far avoided any physical contact with him other than a peck on the cheek and being forced to take his hand or arm at dinner. She decided to ignore his comment. Tea had been laid out on a table on the lawn. The sandwiches and cakes looked delicious, but Lillian had little appetite. Victor settled her into a chair. She sipped tea and nibbled on a cake, listening to the birds singing in the trees, breathing in the sweet smell of the flowers. The fountains gushed with clear cool water, and she heard Victor say something about honeymooning in Italy. Her mother replied, but Lillian wasn’t listening. She could feel her father glaring at her, and turned to face him. She knew he was growing impatient at her silence. He looked quite annoyed. And in that moment, she wasn’t sure who she hated more . . . her father or Victor. They were in this together, had plotted this marriage without her consent. It was despicable and cruel.

A hand touched her shoulder and she jumped.

“Nervous little thing, aren’t you?” Victor said, sounding amused.

He stood beside her, and she realized she hadn’t even seen him get up. His eyes were watching her like a fox in a henhouse.

“I was admiring your garden, and all the lovely flowers,” she managed to say.

Victor smiled. “The new garden will be even more beautiful. I’m building it for you, my dear.”

Lillian sat in stony silence. Her mother said, “What a lovely gift for a new bride.”

Her father crossed his legs and sipped his tea. “Show her the plans, Victor. Maybe then she’ll appreciate what you’re doing for her. Her mother and I will wait here.”

Lillian stared at her father. What was he thinking? She didn’t want to be alone with Victor. Her mother looked away, but not before Lillian saw her jaw tighten. But again, there was no help there.

Victor held out his arm. “We shall return shortly,” he said. “My dear?”

Lillian had no choice but to take it, but the moment they entered the house, she let go of his arm. As they walked down the hallway to his study, she felt her heart beating frantically in her chest. The study was a masculine room with tall windows and heavy furniture. A large fireplace took up most of one wall, and a desk as big as a small boat was in a dark corner. Victor went directly to the desk, and Lillian saw blueprints spread out on top.

“I’ve been working on the plans for the garden and the house for many months,” he said.

“How long exactly?”

He looked at her. “Since my wife died a year ago, if you must know,” he said. “It has given me something to do.”

“I’m curious about your wife.”

“You mean my late wife, Maribelle.”

“Yes, your late wife. I’m curious to know how she died.”

Victor’s eyes narrowed. “Why? Have you been listening to rumors?”

“People say you poisoned her.”

“People say all sorts of ridiculous things. Only silly girls like yourself believe them.”

Lillian felt a flicker of anger stir inside her. It was an odd sensation to have. She had never had cause to experience anger in her life. But there it was, coursing through her blood, as if it had been there all the time, lying dormant, waiting to spring to life.

Victor said quietly, “I can see it in your eyes, you’re afraid of me.” He touched the sleeve of her dress and she took a step back. “I’ve had my eye on you for years.”

Lillian was horrified. “Years? I’m only eighteen.”

An amused expression crossed his face. “I meant it as a compliment,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for you to grow up.”

Lillian felt a shiver of fear run down her spine. He took a step toward her and she took two steps back, this time bumping into the desk. “If we’re going to be married,” she said, trying to sound bold, “I want to know what really happened to Maribelle.”

His eyes moved to her lips. “I don’t have to tell you anything,” he said.

“If you don’t, I will break our engagement.”

“Brave words, my dear, but you will do no such thing,” he said. “You would destroy your father.”

Lillian was confused. “What do you mean?”

Victor sighed. “I had hoped to never speak of it to you, but I suppose it was inevitable,” he said. “You see, my love, your father and I have an agreement. He gives his daughter to me to marry, and I pay off his debts.”

“What are you talking about? What debts?”

“Your father has made some very unwise investments. He’s lost most of his wealth, so much that he’ll soon have nothing left. Without my help, he will be ruined.”

Lillian was stunned. “Why hasn’t he told us?”

“And upset your delicate mother, and his adoring children? There is no need. I have offered my assistance, and I will ensure his survival. Does this make it a little easier for you to marry me? Because I really would like to see some enthusiasm on your part. I expect quite a lot from you.”

“Did you have something to do with these bad investments?” she asked.

Victor looked surprised. “Well, well, well. Aren’t you the clever girl? I had no idea you were so intelligent . . . or suspicious. I thought you were all beauty and fluff.” He moved closer and touched the top button on her collar. Lillian felt frozen in place. Her back was against the desk, and Victor was standing between her and the door. There was no way around him. “I can see I’m going to have to exert my authority over you, if I’m going to tame you,” he said.

“I must remind you, sir. You are not my husband yet.”

He was breathing fast, his sour breath revolting. His pudgy fingers unbuttoned the top button of her dress, as his coal black eyes raked her body. Lillian froze. “You really have no one else to blame for this,” he said.

“I demand you stop at once,” she said.

“You need to be taught a lesson,” he said, and unbuttoned another button. “I am going to have you here, right now, my dear, and you will voice no objection. We will seal the bond between us before the wedding.” Lillian couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She wanted to scream, but her throat had closed to the size of a pea. Victor seemed to know what she was going to do and clapped his hand over her mouth. “I’m going to ruin you now, so you can never be with anyone else.”

Frightened out of her mind, Lillian shoved her hands as hard as she could against his chest, but he had anticipated that move as well. He grabbed her around the waist, lifted her feet off the ground, and threw her down on the desk.

“Help!” Lillian yelled, but the wind had been knocked out of her and it sounded like a small kitten’s mew.

“Go ahead, scream all you want,” he said. “We’re far from the garden and there are no servants in this wing of the house. I made sure of it. No one will hear you.” Lillian gasped for breath. She realized he’d planned this all along, to get her alone, to attack her. “Stop squirming,” he said as she fought against him. He grabbed both her hands and pinned her to the desk. “You’ll learn to love me in time. Or at the very least, you’ll fall in love with my money.”

“Never!”

Lillian turned her head and bit his hand. She drew blood, and that surprised him.

“Ow!” He reeled back, stunned.

She knew it might be her only chance to get away, but as hard as she tried to get up off the desk, her skirts had tangled and she couldn’t move. He sucked on his bloody hand and laughed.

“I love your feistiness,” he said.

He put his hands on her shoulders, pushing her back. The pins in her hair fell out and her hair tumbled to her shoulders. He kissed her hard, his body pinning her, biting her lip until it bled. Lillian couldn’t believe what was happening. She could taste her own blood, felt it run down her chin. He was a madman, tearing away at her bodice, his eyes as wild as an animal as buttons popped off in all directions. She tried to fight back. He slapped her so hard her head hit the desk and lights flashed before her eyes. She knew she couldn’t pass out. She had to think.

When Lillian later thought about what happened next, she tried to imagine doing something different, but in every scenario that played out in her head, it always ended the same way. She was afraid for her life, her face was aflame, and Victor’s hands were pulling up her skirts, pulling down her undergarments. She knew what she had to do. Frantically, her hands scrabbled across the desktop, searching for something, anything, to hit him with. Just as she was beginning to lose hope, she felt something sharp and knew it was a letter opener.

Clutching the hilt in her hand, holding on for dear life, she plunged the knife into Victor’s chest. His eyes widened in shock. Lillian pushed him away. He stumbled backward, staring at the knife in his chest. Lillian rolled sideways off the desk, her legs so weak, she collapsed to the floor.