The Diabolical Baron by Mary Jo Putney

“Jess.” She half-rolled into her aunt’s lap, wrapping her arms around her as if there were no other security in the world. Jessica stroked her hair. “Gina told me you are to marry Lord Radford. Why have you consented if it distresses you so? You know you can come to me if you are forced to leave your parents’ house.” No matter how much trouble would be caused in the family and in Wiltshire, Jessica was prepared to stand by her word.
    Caroline replied in a flat, lifeless voice, “ Money is the problem. Lord Radford is will ing to pay a ridiculously high price for me. If I refuse him, Gina will be forbidden to marry Gideon.”
    Jessica swore softly to herself. She had never had much opinion of her brother-in-law’s judgment, but she had had no idea matters were in such bad case. They had found the perfect emotional blackmail to persuade Caroline.
    Her niece added after a moment, “Apparently he will help the younger children as it becomes necessary. He is certainly getting a poor bargain for his money!” She ended with a half-hysterical bubble of laughter.
    Continuing the gentle massage from her niece’s head down to the neck and shoulders, Jessica asked, “Since you have decided to marry him, we must find why you dislike him so. What has he done to you?”
    There was a long silence before Caroline answered, “He has not really done anything to me. I would not dislike him if I did not have to marry him.”
    Probing gently, her aunt continued, “Then what is the problem?”
    There was a long, long pause, then the painful words, “He ... reminds me of my father.”
    What Jessica had heard about the elegant, sardonic lord sounded very unlike Sir Alfred, but there had to be a reason for the reply. “In what way is he like your fa ther?”
    “He ... frightens me. I always feel there is anger just behind those black eyes.”
    “That is how your father seems to you?”
    “You know how Papa was never much around? I was always glad ... I think he dislikes me as much as I dislike him. When I was little, sometimes he would want to play, but one could never tell when he would lose his temper. He would scream at me ... hit me ... and I never knew what it was that would cause him to behave as he did. I never knew!” She ended on a shuddering sob, close to breaking down entirely.
    Under Jessica’s hands, she struggled to regain con trol, then said more calmly, “I do not mean he was al ways beating me. Indeed, he was more violent with the boys. Gina would yell back at him—she had so much more courage than I. What made it so hard for me was ... never knowing. The constant uncertainty and fear.
    “All my life I have kept as far from him as possible. If he came in a room, I would drift out the other door. I was waiting only until I could leave, to live with you if I could, but if necessary to find any kind of job that would support me. I know I could teach music. I never thought I would have to spend the rest of my life living with that kind of fear, constantly wondering if I had done something wrong, never knowing when light ning would strike . . . and living without love.” She started to tremble uncontrollably.
    Jessica held her until the shaking stopped, then said carefully, “I understand why the idea is abhorrent to you. But are you sure it is anger you feel in Radford? It might be just that he is intense. I knew a man rather like that once. He lived life as if two hundred years would not be enough to do all he wished.”
    She thought a moment. “Everyone is angry sometimes. A quickly passing irritation is very different from being a child at the mercy of an adult. When you are sure he loves you, a burst of temper won’t bother you anything like so much as your memories do now.”
    “Do you really think that is true, Jess?”
    “I know it is true, just as I know that our fears are almost always worse than reality.”
    “I ... I think you must be right. When I was little, it was the fear, the unknowing,