Drove him here.
Now.
To this moment of vengeance.
“Forgive me for the delay,” he drawled, striding forward, preparing to strike.
“What the bloody deuce?”
Lord Gregson’s alarm was as apparent as it was enjoyable. He instantly struggled with his bonds, fear lacing his words.
“You cannot escape, you piece of horse shite,” Rafe said, unable to keep the note of savage satisfaction from his own voice. “Rather similar, ain’t it?”
“Similar to what? What the devil is happening? Who are you, and where is Mignonette?” demanded Lord Gregson, panicked now as he tugged wildly at his wrists and ankles, to no avail.
“Similar to the way you attempted to force yourself on an innocent governess.” He tested the whip, cracking it against the carpets. “You do recall, do you not? Stealing your way into her room in the night, forcing yourself into her bed, pinning her down and telling her she wanted you to violate her? Ignoring her when she told you to stop?”
Rafe had to pause and clench his jaw, his rage overflowing like the swelling banks of a flooded river.
“I never violated anyone!” Lord Gregson denied, his voice high-pitched with fear. “What are you going to do to me?”
“You never violated her, because she was able to fight your drunken arse off and alert the household,” he bit out. “As for what I’m going to do to you, Lord Gregson, that’s simple. I’m going to exact retribution.”
“Please, no,” Lord Gregson whimpered.
“This one is for Miss Wren,” Rafe said grimly, drawing back the cat-o’-nine-tails and striking with all his might.
The lordling screamed in pain. Rafe did not so much as flinch as he drew back the whip again, undaunted by the red welts marring Lord Gregson’s back and hairy arse.
“And this is for any other innocents you may have defiled.”
The whip cracked again.
“Please,” Lord Gregson whimpered. “I beg of you, stop.”
“Do not doubt that if more word of you attacking innocent ladies emerges, I will find you again,” he warned, before lashing him again. “I’ll cut you up and feed you to a pack of wild dogs. Do you understand me?”
“Please.” Lord Gregson was weeping like a babe.
“Tell me you understand.” The whip cracked another time.
“I understand! I’ll never do it again. I swear it!”
The desperation in the other man’s voice was enough to persuade Rafe he may have finally managed to make some progress.
He brought the whip down a final time for good measure before tossing it to the floor. “Heed my warning, Lord Gregson, or I promise you, the next time won’t go as easy.”
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With that warning, he stalked from the room, leaving the lord sobbing, welted, and bloody.
* * *
After another long, yet fulfilling, day of working with her charges, Persephone made her way to her room for the evening. Anne and Elizabeth continued to make marked strides in their reading and other lessons. She was quite pleased with the improvement they had shown, and during her daily visit to confer with Persephone over the girls’ progress that evening, Lady Octavia had expressed her happiness as well. Mr. Sutton, who ordinarily accompanied his wife, had been absent.
She could not have been more fortunate to have discovered this post quite unexpectedly whilst living off the meager, dwindling wages she had been able to collect from her previous situation. It had certainly been the answer to her desperate prayers, and in more ways than one. Mr. Sutton and Lady Octavia were kind and thoughtful. They did not speak to her condescendingly as the Earl and Countess of Landsdowne had. They paid her fair wages and treated her as if she were a valued member of the household. They were never sparing in their praise, and nor did they cast judgment on her choice of lessons.
Admittedly, she had never expected to become a governess. When circumstances had forced her into the position to protect herself, she had been uncertain of what she was meant to be teaching. Her own governesses had been strict and stern, forcing her to walk with books balanced on her head, making her wear a corset to improve her posture, rapping her wrists with a rod when she did not please. But Persephone had no wish to implement the same tortures which had been inflicted upon her. She chose instead to instill a love of literature and learning which had been denied her. She was abysmal at needlework and water colors, it was true. Her governesses had all despaired over her fledgling abilities. Cousin Bartholomew had been appalled when he had checked upon her progress.