Page 28 of Forever Her Bachelor

The sound of the door closing was like a loud crash to Pippa’s ears. Alone with Summerset, she waited with bated breath. Steadying herself, she sat with her hands demurely in her lap as she gripped her right one in fear that he would see it shake. It was strange being afraid of someone, something she did not like at all, and she was doubting her decision to agree to marry him. Defiantly, she turned toward him, determined to be in his presence just to prove to herself that she wasn’t afraid.

But she was. She could feel the fear slither across her skin, causing goosebumps in its wake.

Time stood silent as Pippa watched him closely. His eyes were closed, hands in tight fists against his thin thighs.

Swallowing several times, she decided that she no longer could take the deafening silence. “Your Grace, my aunt will be?—”

Pippa didn’t see his hand flying toward her. All she felt was the sting after it had connected to her cheek. The force threw her into the seat cushions. The shock of it was too much. He had struck her. Before she could comprehend his next move, Summerset hovered over her like a predator ready to strike. He squeezed her shoulders, stilling her in place, the bite of his grip cutting through her cloak. Pippa tried to move and wiggle away from him, but she was unable to move her arms. As she became desperate, fear washed over her, turning her body cold.

He was going to hurt her, and she was going to allow it to happen.

No.

“You and St. Clara think I’m a fool! I won’t tolerate insolence, do you hear me, girl?” Spittle hit her face as his thumbs dug in the sensitive area near her shoulder. She was sure she would be bruised in the morning.

“You’re hurting me,” she gritted out while his grip on her arms tightened.

“Your little display at dinner will not go unpunished!” He released one arm, and she immediately felt relief, until she saw him raising his hand to strike her again, but Pippa could take no more. She refused. He would not put his hands on her ever again. Once was enough. Once was too much.

“Always focus on the vulnerable parts.”

Pippa inhaled deeply, gathering all the courage that lived inside of her from her parents. She took her knee, ramming it twice into Summerset’s cock. Crying out, he instantly released her. She had no time to hesitate. Taking the palm of her right hand, she slammed it into his face, hearing a satisfying crunching noise as blood seeped down his face staining her gloves.

“Ahh! You broke my nose!” Summerset shouted in pain, but Pippa did not wait to converse with him. She needed to be free of him.

Jumping out of the carriage with her heart in her throat, she took deep breaths of fresh air, choking on the precious commodity her body needed.

Her legs had never moved faster in her life as she held onto her skirts, running into the safety of the townhouse.

“Pippa, is everything well?” her aunt called out from the parlor, but Pippa couldn’t face her.

Ignoring her aunt’s frantic voice, Pippa bolted up the stairs, needing to be alone. She had made a grave mistake when she agreed to marry Summerset. Now, she knew she could not spend her life with such a man.

She didn’t take a calming breath until she was safely locked away in the refuge of her own room. Her head fell against the dark wood, her body sagging in relief. Moisture pooled under her eyelids, and she willed herself not to cry. Pippa had made a point to never cry. Now, the errant tears slipped passed her impenetrable will, sliding down her aching cheek.

She had to do something about Summerset. There wasn’t a part of her that could marry such a man. As she pressed herself firmly against the door, afraid that Summerset would come for her, Pippa knew that there was only one person who could help her.

The Duke of St. Clara.

CHAPTER 9

Dear Kitten,

But a duke is better than a marquess. However, I assure you whatever title I hold, I will always be your Chauncey.

Always Yours,

Chauncey (The Assistant)

O’Brien’s Gentleman’s club was sparsely filled with those few patrons who remained in Town after the Season. With most of society’s return to their country estates, there wasn’t much to entertain at the usually buoyant club.

The décor, white tablecloths and crystal chandeliers with lit candles, all added to the ambience. It wasn’t as opulent as White’s, which catered to the type of aristocrats who preferred not to interact with a man they deemed beneath them. Flynn O’Brien, the owner and proprietor of O’Brien’s, was born into society, but had long left the confines of thetonand his family. Now a businessman, father, and husband, he never looked back at what he’d left behind.

Taking a seat at one table, St. Clara sat down, his breathing coming out in brief spurts. He wanted to go find Summerset and pound him until the rage dissipated out of his body. Nothing could calm him down as he thought on Summerset’s insult first to Pippa then St. Clara’s own mother.

“I don’t need a drink.” St. Clara pulled at his cravat before unbuttoning his waistcoat. He had drunk enough that week. Now, he needed his wits about him.

Summerset was a problem, one whom Pippa could not marry. He would go to her in the morning, fall to his knees, and beg her to be his wife.