The command hung in the air, sharp and cruel.
Lorena and Ashlyn, still kneeling on the floor, looked at each other. Their faces, already pale with fear, now showed a flicker of mutual hatred. They were allies in a failed plot, and now their punishment was to turn on one another. The silence in the room was thick with their hesitation.
Marissa, watching them from her seat on the edge of the bed, let out a soft, impatient sigh. "What's the matter?" she asked, her voice deceptively light. "Can't you do it?"
Silence. Their gazes were locked, each waiting for the other to make the first move, to refuse, to do anything but obey this humiliating order.
"Tonight," Marissa continued, her voice losing its lightness and taking on a hard, metallic edge, "I will establish order in this house. And you will learn your places." She turned her cold eyes to Ashlyn. "Since you seem unable to hit her, then we will do it this way: Miss Lorena slaps you first. Ten times. As hard as she can."
Ashlyn's eyes widened in terror. The thought of Lorena, filled with pent-up rage, striking her ten times was unbearable. Without another moment's thought, she scrambled forward and, with a choked sob, delivered a sharp slap across Lorena's cheek.
The sound echoed in the room. Lorena's head snapped to the side, a red mark blooming on her skin. For a second, she looked utterly stunned. Then, her eyes filled with a furious, vengeful fire. She retaliated instantly, her own hand striking Ashlyn's face with a much harder crack.
Ashlyn cried out, and the pathetic, ugly fight began. It was not a battle of strength, but a frantic, desperate exchange of slaps. Their carefully styled hair came undone, their faces grew red and blotchy, and tears of pain, rage, and utter humiliation streamed down their cheeks. They shoved and clawed at each other, their movements clumsy and fueled by fear of what Marissa would do if they stopped.
Marissa watched the spectacle with a detached interest. She crossed her legs, smoothing the silk of her nightgown, an empress enjoying a crude gladiator match. She was not just savoring revenge; she was observing them, seeing the raw, ugly truth of their characters laid bare. They were not master schemers; they were petty, frightened bullies who turned on each other the moment they faced a true threat.
On the bed, Derek was a captive audience to the whole sordid affair. He watched not the pathetic fight, but the woman orchestrating it. He saw her calm, intelligent eyes, the slight, amused curve of her lips. She was beautiful, poised, and utterly ruthless. How, he thought, the word echoing in the silent, furious prison of his mind, can such a pretty woman be so vicious?
Finally, Marissa grew bored. "That's enough," she said, her voice cutting through their pathetic sobs. "Get out. Both of you."
Like puppets whose strings had been cut, they stopped immediately. They scrambled to their feet, not daring to look at each other or at Marissa. They gathered what little dignity they had left and practically fled the room, their footsteps a frantic patter down the hallway.
Ashlyn stumbled out into the corridor of the west wing, her cheek burning, her mind a whirlwind of confusion. She gently stroked her hot, red skin, the sting a constant reminder of her complete and utter failure. Why is His Grace in Marissa's room? she asked herself, the question repeating over and over. He despises her. What is happening?
She saw Lorena storming down the hallway ahead of her, the maid Clara scurrying to keep up. Fury radiated from the household manager in palpable waves.
"Miss Lorena! Miss Lorena, wait!" Ashlyn called out, running after them.
Lorena didn't stop. Ashlyn finally caught up to her, grabbing her arm. "I'm sorry," she panted. "I was forced to slap you. You saw her, she made me…"
Lorena ripped her arm away, shoving Ashlyn hard against the wall. "Don't touch me!" she hissed, her face contorted with rage. "Get away from me. All you Austens are scum! Nothing but trouble!"
Ashlyn stepped in front of her again, blocking her path. She changed her tactics instantly, her expression shifting from apologetic to one of deep sympathy. She took Lorena's hand gently.
"Miss Lorena, my sister has always been domineering," she said, her voice a low, sad whisper. "She has been hitting me whenever she liked since we were children. When she made us… do that… my heart pitied you, Miss Lorena. I know you have the Dowager's protection, but even so, she still got to bully you tonight, just because she is the Grand Duchess."
"Grand Duchess?" Lorena spat, yanking her hand free. The word was an insult on her lips. "She must prove she deserves that title. She may have the Duke in her bed tonight, but it changes nothing. Right now, in this manor, I still manage the household. She is not the master here yet."
With a final, venomous glare, Lorena turned and swept away, leaving Ashlyn alone in the hallway.
Back in the now-silent bedchamber, Marissa turned her attention to the furious man still lying on her bed. She approached him calmly, her face unreadable. She reached out and, with steady fingers, untied the silk gag from his mouth.
He took a deep, ragged breath, the first word that came to his lips a low, furious growl. "You shrew."
Marissa smiled faintly. It was, in its own way, a compliment.
"Untie me," he commanded, his voice hoarse. "Now."
Marissa began to work on the knots of the sash that bound his wrists. Her fingers moved slowly, deliberately. "You saw it yourself, Your Grace," she said, her voice calm and reasonable as she worked. "A trap was laid for me tonight. If I didn't do that to you, I would have been discovered with a strange man in my room. If I had been meek and quiet, they would have overpowered me. If I wasn't a shrew," she paused, pulling the final knot free, "I would have been the one punished for adultery on my wedding night."