The Lady Justice

Chapter XXIV: I Rally, I Rally Not

Lady Therese De Beauharnais of Roche

16 October, Year 32 of King Frederick V of Monrique's reign

Bordeux Castle, Bordeux

Monrique

When would it be 21 00 hours?

Clutching my umpteenth glass of red wine, I strolled out into the Castle gardens and sank down on one of the ice-cold stone benches. 

As much as I loved to dance, I was exhausted. It had been a long time since I had attended a ball, and I was no longer as young as I once had been.

Shaking my head, I lifted my glass of wine up to my lips for a sip. Now all I was waiting for was for the timepiece to strike nine, and then I could meet Liv, and the rest of the heiresses at our meeting place.

Surrounded by the cool, peaceful atmosphere, I closed my eyes and leaned against the back of the bench. I hugged my shawl tighter to myself, enjoying the gentle breeze that played with a few strands of my hair.

Suddenly, a familiar nasal voice shattered the peace. "Therese De Beauharnais," it hissed, "the woman who is happy to die an old maid."

The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Lord Andre!

I shot out of the bench at once, and turned around, to find a drunken Lord Andre of Baden swaggering towards me with a large bottle of whiskey in one hand. His eyes were bloodshot, and his evening clothes were crumpled.

He was a mess. Surely he was not caught up over my rejection still -

"A proud and uptight little virgin, eh?" he slurred, smirking as he drew much too close to me, "but I know the real you. You are nothing but a tease." His breath reeked of cigars and alcohol.

I wrinkled my nose, but I stood my ground. "Stay away from me," I snarled, clenching my fists, "if you know what is good for you, you will return to hell." I spat out.

Instead of fearing me, his eyes filled with intense lust. "Feisty," he crooned, reaching out a hand to touch me, "you, my dear, will be a fulfilling conquest - "

I slapped his hand away none too gently before it could touch any part of me. "I am warning you, Andre!" I growled, glaring at him fiercely, "stay the hell away from me!" I threw my glass of red wine at him.

That did it.

Without warning, he tossed aside his whiskey bottle and pounced on me, knocking me to the ground. I felt the back of my head hit something hard, and the pain resounded through my skull, as he slammed his body against mine and pinned my hands over my head, slapping a hand over my mouth.

But he had underestimated my strength.

With every ounce of energy I possessed, I turned my head to bite down on his hand hard. He howled with pain, retrieving both his hands to nurse his injury at once - which gave me enough time to wriggle away from under him and raise myself upright.

"You crazy witch!"

I was dizzy for a moment, but I recovered swiftly enough. "You are a pathetic excuse for a man," I swore, feeling utterly violated, "I wonder what Mama ever saw in you as a potential son-in-law."

"Your mother is a wonderful woman," he blinked at the whiskey bottle yonder, disoriented, "she imported this whiskey all the way from Florencia just for me – "

Ah, so this was my mother's doing.

Almost at once, her silent scheming for the past week became all too clear. She would have me publicly raped, if that was what it took me to get married.