CAMDEN ABBEY
In Oxfordshire ~ March 1882

     Mildly curious, Katherine reached out to part the velvet drape, flinching as a blinding arc of sunshine burst into the dimness of the room. It hit her with a ruthless brilliance that forced her to narrow her eyes as she watched the bustling melee in the courtyard below. Stoically she studied the laughing camaraderie of the young crowd she had not been invited to join, and she was equally indifferent to the fact that she would undoubtedly never be asked to participate-never mind that the young man being jostled about with good-nautured ribbing amidst the group was her own husband.
     When the mindless clamor seemed only to increase in volume, with little accomplished to hurry them on their way, irritation began to knit her brow.
     Why don't they just go, she wondered impatiently as she nudged her wire-rimmed spectacles lower on her nose so she could look over them.
     Her mouth pursed in distaste, Katherine's gaze wandered over the crowd until her attention finally alighted on the dominant jewel of this little scene. Her dispassion was almost cold?blooded as she observed the stunning picture Lady Alicia Barrows presented in her russet habit; the velvet clinging with immodest design to a figure that the gods themselves must have sculpted to match the equally dynamic lines of her current lover-her husband.
     And both were quite aware of the startling picture they made together. They were two splendid predators feeding off of each other's vanity, and Katherine wished nothing more than to stay safely out of their malicious company. She first realized this need to shun her husband on the day of her wedding to this callous stranger. It was now a fundamental element to Katherine's peace of mind-if any such thing could exist in the hell that was her life.
     With arrogant unconcern, the lovers stood indecently close amid the crush of preparation; so close, in fact, that the lady's breast brushed with a seeming casualness against the viscount's waistcoat. Well aware of her lover's wife watching from the study window, Lady Barrows reached up to tangle her fingers in Halsingham's golden mane. With a smile, she drew his head down, her taunting gaze deliberately meeting Katherine's over his shoulder. With a cruel little twist to her lips, the lady whispered something into his ear and immediately Halsingham's laughter floated up to his wife's ear. Katherine did not even flinch when he looked over his shoulder at her.
     Ignoring him, Katherine returned Lady Barrow's smile coolly, knowing all the while that she had been the brunt of yet another cruel jest. It would not be the first time, nor would it be the last. And when Lady Barrow no longer amused her husband, there would be another to replace her, also whispering into her husband's ear some scathing little comment about the unfortunate wife he had been saddled with.
     Finally, as if on cue, the milling mass of people began to mount horses and carriages for the long trek back to London. A sigh of contentment escaped Katherine's lips as her eyes rested one last time on her husband. Impatient for his absence, she watched as he brushed a last lingering kiss over lips still bruised from his arduous ministrations of last night. Katherine then wondered with cynical amusement if they treated each other so fondly when in the privacy of their lovers' bower, out of the presence of their fawning audience.
     Satisfied that soon the courtyard would be emptied of the bothersome guests, Katherine let the curtain fall back into place, then moved across the room, the noise outside becoming a mere drone of annoyance.
     One week had tried her patience sorely, but considering that it had been a year since the last invasion of so many interlopers, she could not complain too much. If she did not know her husband better, and was certain of his complete disregard of her existence, she could almost believe that he deliberately flaunted his mistresses before her out of a warped sense of humor. However, that would be flattering herself, she thought with a rueful smile as she entered the breakfast room. There, she paused abruptly when she noticed her father still seated at the table. Swallowing her disappointment, she slipped into the chair held out by the room's attendant footman.
     With narrowed eyes, Lord Camden glanced up from his London newspaper and stared with undisguised loathing at his daughter. It still astonished him how he and the beautiful woman who had been his wife could have produced such an unappetizing lump of humanity.
     At the age of twenty?one, Katherine Beatrice Camden?Carey, Viscountess Halsingham, had nothing to recommend her. Not only was she of an inferior height, but her lack of it was emphasized by the fact that she was fat. She was an unremarkable woman in every way, and he found it highly unpleasant to look at her. If someone were to ask him to describe the color of his only child's eyes, he doubted he would be able to do so, for not only were they nondescript behind those rose?tinted spectacles she always had perched on her nose, he did not give a damn what color they were. Just as he had no idea what color her hair was. All he knew was that she wore it pulled harshly back from her plump face and covered with the habitual white linen cap she always wore. At least seven stone of excess flesh padded her small frame, and the way she dressed, in gray drab, only added to the ungainly picture she presented. Her only assets, if one were of a mind to say she had any, was a velvety complexion and an innate grace of movement that was surprising considering the near obesity of her body. All in all, she looked much older than her youthful years and exceedingly forgettable.
     Indeed, how he wished he could forget her existence altogether; however, he was not allowed that luxury as long as he needed that ungainly body of hers to breed his grandson and future heir of his ancient line that was on the threshold of extinction.
     She was an insignificant person with an unfortunately quite significant part in the future of the Camdens. Thank God he only had to deal with her during one brief visit each month. Even that was twelve times too many in a year, and a constant waste of time, since each month, as regular as clockwork, she had her cursed cycle. He refused to believe that she could be barren. If she were, he would disown her and take pleasure in the doing.
     Glancing over her spectacles, Katherine noted the ever?present animosity in her sire's colorless eyes and unconsciously she nudged the frames higher so that he blurred into an undistinguishable mass. Nervous under his hostile regard, she reached for another pastry and retreated into herself, which was the only way she could deal with these onerous meals. Biting into the flaky pastry, it was not buttery enjoyment she tasted, but the metallic sourness of helpless hatred.
     "I hope you had the courtesy to bid your husband and guests a safe journey?" Camden demanded, snapping his paper to another page.
     Keeping her eyes lowered, she swallowed. She was always fearful of meeting his eyes, knowing he would see the hostility she felt for him. It would just give him another reason to punish her. Careful to keep her voice humble, she answered, "Of course, my lord."
     Camden's lips thinned with disgust. He could almost sympathize with his son?in?law's avoidance of this cow's bed.
     Gad, who in his right mind would want to climb on top of her? But, Halsingham's desires had no bearing in their contract. The viscount had been offered the reprieve of debtor's prison in lieu of two things; to marry his daughter and get her with child. Camden didn't care where Halsingham spilled his seed as long as it was emptied with calculated regularity into his daughter. Whatever else the lackwit did with his life was of no concern to Camden.
     However, Halsingham was presently treading on the dangerous edge of pushing Camden's patience to the breaking point. His absences would no longer be tolerated. The bastard was playing with fire, and the flames were beginning to run wild. Camden's jaw clenched as the pain began its insidious assault; his frustrated rage growing apace with the agony leeching into his arm and over into his chest. He was only too aware that the bastard had sneaked out of Katherine's room late last night. If Halsingham didn't quickly live up to his side of the contract, then he would soon start seeing his gambling chits and merchant debts unpaid and his credit insultingly denied. Obviously, the token one fuck a night was not accomplishing the job-and that was only when the man was able to drag himself from his debaucheries in London.
     Well, all that was about to stop. He had been more than patient, and patience was a peculiarity he never tolerated.
     "I would assume it is too much to hope for the possibility of a grandson in nine months?"
     Katherine wanted to laugh in his face and goad him that he was too stupid to realize that the precious seed he has paid so dearly for had filled a more eager receptacle last night. Even knowing she took her life into her hands by deceiving Camden, the thought of being touched by a man who thought her hideous and repellent was unendurable. Just having him in the sanctity of her bedchamber for an hour as he snoozed in a chair by the fire was almost more than she could bear. After two years of marriage she was still blessedly a virgin and she intended to stay that way. The thought of having her child taken from her and placed under the abusive control of this cold man was unthinkable. And if she was unfortunate enough to give birth to another worthless daughter such as herself . . . she shuddered at the thought.
     Taking a deep breath, she lied with calm calculation. "Only time will tell, my lord."
     Despite her outward coolness, she could feel perspiration beginning to shiver over her body. It was hard not to reach up and wipe away the telltale moisture of her nervousness from her upper lip. She knew she was losing her composure. Her secretive acts of rebellion never did seem to last very long when in his presence. Not knowing what else to do, her gaze darted to the plate of pastries set well within her reach.
     Repelled, Camden watched as his daughter's plump hand reached for another cinnamon scone. His temples were beginning to pound with the blinding shards of pain slicing with insidious precision through his trembling body. He had to clench his jaw tight in order to bite off the howl of rage he so desperately wanted to let loose. Just being in the same room with this disgusting creature was enough to stretch his nerves to the frayed edge of sanity. It seemed the bitch deliberately set out to goad him.
     Watching her dip her spoon into the jam pot suddenly shattered his strained demeanor into a million sparks of frenzied pain. Slamming his hand down on the table, he bellowed, "By God, madam, can't you do anything beside stuff your fat face all day long!"
     Katherine's hand froze, then disappeared under the table to reappear with her napkin.
     With unnatural composure she touched her lips with the linen while surreptitiously dotting the moisture from her upper lip. Then placing the napkin with exaggerated neatness beside her plate, she rose to her feet and glanced down at her father's furious face, thankful of the distorted vision her mother's spectacles provided-it meant never having to meet his eye.
     "Certainly, my lord. With your permission?" Before he gave it, she swept from the room, her head held proudly high.
     Drawing a deep breath, Lord Camden again picked up his paper and continued to read in blessed solitude. Minutes later a hauntingly beautiful melody drifted through the corridors, the notes impeccably executed by fingers that had the genius of a true virtuoso. Camden's head jerked up from his paper, and once again he was enraged. With an obscene oath, he shot to his feet and, throwing the newsletter onto the floor, strode toward the offensive music.
     When the doors crashed open behind her, Katherine jerked her fingers from the beloved keys and folded them in her lap. Staring straight ahead to the beautiful morning framed in the massive French doors, she refused to look into the cruelty she knew would be radiating from those soulless eyes.
     As he came to stand over the gleaming piano, Camden resisted the urge to grab anything at hand and smash the magnificent instrument to bits. He satisfied himself by reaching over Katherine's shoulder and slamming down the keyboard cover. The reverberation of wood on wood and the discordant hum of vibration echoed in the tense silence that followed.
     Katherine heard her father's steely voice behind her as his heartless words struck her: "I can't stand the sight of you anymore!"
     Camden stared down at her bowed head. His thoughts were a chaotic whirl as he fought the almost insane desire to put his hands about her neck and squeeze until he had wrung every drop of life from her ugly body. But, he couldn't. Not yet. His teeth clenched in a frenzy of frustration. He must remember the heir.
     The pounding in his head increased till he could hear nothing else but the slamming pulse of his pain echoing in his ears. When he felt the insidious shiver of agony shoot up his left arm, he was almost grateful for the distraction. It brought back a sense of control.
     Taking in a deep breath, he cradled his arm against his chest as he demanded, "You are to leave for Camden Square. Immediately. You will remain in London and in that stud's bed till you are stuffed with his seed, and I don't give a damn how you force him! He's nothing but a whore and he has his price just as they all do. I have already paid dearly enough and I will wait no longer for what I've paid good coin for! You will not come back until you are pregnant with my grandson! If you cannot seem to accomplish this most common of tasks, then mayhap Bridden will be more to your liking than this dismal residence you must suffer!" With that, he turned on his heel and strode from the room, his footsteps an angry echo in the tomblike room.
     Katherine's eyes slid closed. Bridden, again. Camden Abbey or a lunatic asylum. Was there a difference anymore?
     With quiet efficiency, a footman stepped to the double doors to give Lady Katherine privacy. His heart wrenched at the sight of the poor lady, head bent, sitting with the stillness of death at the instrument she could coax and command with such majesty.
     Suddenly, she swung her head about and their gazes collided. A thrill of dread crept along his spine at the unholy light of hatred smoldering behind those rose-tinted lenses.

     The smell of damp wool and mildew combined with the bone?jarring rocking of the carriage was steadily making her ill, and these were only minor irritants compared to all the other discomforts Katherine endured in the freezing carriage as it lurched down the rutted road to London. Having been literally tossed out into the sudden storm that had blown in, she had not been surprised when this dilapidated excuse of a traveling coach had rolled up to the front entrance with the Abbey's eldest retainer, Liam, perched precariously on top of the ancient structure.
     Heaven knows, her father wouldn't put himself out to lend her one of his more comfortable conveyances, let alone spare the coin for a couple of train tickets so that she and her old governess, now companion, Jassy, could travel through this sudden tempest in relative safety and speed.
     With gritted teeth, Katherine clung tenaciously to the hand strap as the coach jarred over yet another muddy pothole, barely saving herself from being flung to the wet floor. As she righted herself, she felt an icy wet sensation on her shoulder and turned to glare in disgust at the numerous rivulets of water trailing down the warped panels.
     When the rocking torture chamber seemed to steady for the moment, she again sought what minuscule comfort she could by shifting about on the cold, cracked leather, trying to avoid the areas where the brittle hide was peeling off the wooden benches. Not an easy thing to do when every square inch was in danger of disintegrating.
     Hearing a hacking cough, Katherine pulled off a glove, and leaning forward, she reached over and felt Jassy's face. She was shocked at how feverish her old governess had become in just the past half hour. In the next instant, a startling flash of lightning exposed the misery on Jassy's face as she sat huddled in her damp comer. The accompanying boom of thunder shuddered through the carriage, impressing upon Katherine the full extent of their helplessness against the raging elements beating against this ancient structure. Going more by touch than sight, she carefully tucked the blanket back up under her friend's chin. As with everything else, the interior lanterns had not been replenished with oil before setting off.
     Feeling another shudder wrack the frail body beneath her hands, Katherine pulled her own lap robe from about her numb legs and wrapped it snugly around Jassy.
     Biting her lip, Katherine worried about how Liam was coping on his own. His danger was much more immediate than just bearing up under the storm. The horses hitched to the carriage weren't the most predictable of the Abbey's stock and the likely chance that the thunder and lightning could spook them out of their traces was all too real. With desperate faith she knew that no one knew horses and their quirks like Liam. Nervously she assured herself that if the old man felt he could not handle the situation he would pull over.
     Katherine was startled as another blinding flash of lightning baptized the interior with its eerie light. Before darkness had descended again an agonized scream was heard from above. Katherine froze in stunned disbelief; then, without a second thought she grabbed the latch on the door and flung it wide. It was ripped from her hand as she leaned out into the pelting rain and slammed against the side of the carriage, held there by the forceful gale. She cried out as the greedy wind wrenched her hat off, ripping at the roots of her hair. Her hands were clenched about the slippery sides of the door opening.
     "Liam!" she screamed over the raging elements. Desperate for a sight of him, she strained to see atop the carriage seat. Another flash of lightning showed her the outline of a sprawled leg dangling over the side. There was an abrupt jolt, then the carriage veered off course, almost throwing her out the door. The door suddenly swung back at her, viciously striking her in the face. She screamed in pain as she flung herself back inside, just narrowly missing it as it swung back again, hard, and slammed shut. Hearing the shatter of glass, Katherine instinctively reached up to cover her face, just in time to protect herself from the shards of glass blown inward with the wind's fury.
     Though sobbing in terror, she was up again and leaning out the door, this time using the door as a brace, her weight bearing down on the weakening hinges. Even as her grasping fingers reached up to grab Liam's leg, she watched, paralyzed, as his charred body tumbled over the side, brushing her arm before being swallowed by the merciless hunger of the storm. Though she knew he was lost to her, she still looked helplessly out into the blackness, the ground beneath her rushing past at an alarming speed.
     Turning to look at the horses, she knew there was no hope for them. Terrified and maddened, they were running blind. She caught a glimpse of the reins slapping loose against their backs and within seconds the carriage was careering along at a deadly pace.
     Panic?stricken, Katherine threw herself back into the relative safety of the carriage and dazedly wiped the rain from her face. Feeling pain, she blinked down at her hands. Her leather gloves were sliced to pieces, and beneath, so were her palms. She could feel bits of glass digging into her skin. Confused, she looked over at the door and, in a flash of light, saw blood smearing the jagged protrusions of glass still embedded in the window's casing.
     On another plain of consciousness, she was aware of Jassy screaming, her cries barely heard above the pounding rain and thunder. When Katherine tried to make her way over to Jassy, she was thrown sideways and fell with a jarring thud against the sharp edge of her bench. Pain ripped through her chest, and for a few frightening minutes she could not catch her breath, no matter how hard she gasped. It seemed forever before she could draw breath again. Then, surprisingly, her panic seemed to subside, even as the agony piercing her side only grew more excruciating. Numbly she wondered if she had broken a rib.
     Faint with pain, she lay there on the freezing floor, her saturated skirts weighing her down, and felt the vibration of the carriage beneath her. Even as inexperienced as she was, she knew that the groaning of stressed wood and iron did not sound encouraging; it was only a matter of minutes when the undercarriage would shatter under the unholy strain.
     Slowly, painfully, she groped for Jassy's hand and held on tight. She was too numb to realize that Jassy's screams had ceased and her hand lay limp within hers, the frail fingers cold and still.
     We are going to die, Katherine mused, not caring anymore what happened to them next. Then it struck her that her death would thwart her father's one obsessive desire: the vaunted Camden heir. It was with a sense of vindication that she realized all his years of neglect and abuse would not go unpunished. Grimly she smiled.
     The heartening thought had barely passed when the carriage lurched violently out of control, throwing them about like fiddlesticks in a can. It was simple dogged determination that made her cling to Jassy's hand, needing to have her friend with her at the end, just as the gentle lady had been right by her side most of her life.
     Chaos reigned as the coach tilted heavily onto its side, then began to slide sideways. She was conscious of the carriage breaking through a wooden barrier of some kind before toppling over. Then she felt herself falling, and with the piteous death screams of the maddened horses ringing in her ears, Katherine knew no more.