VICTORIA

"I'd hoped you'd be well on your way by now." 

Victoria remained composed as her stepfather entered the house. With her fingers knitted tightly together and resting in her lap, she waited until he deposited his top hat and cape in the hallway and entered the drawing room before venturing to speak. "I imagine that's been true for some time, Papa. But I'm still here." 

Phillip Harvey filled the room, all heavy tread and broad shoulders, smoothing his silver-streaked hair as he sighed. "You know very well what I meant, Victoria. I thought you'd be asleep by now." 

"That can't be true. You're quite out of breath, Papa. And you brought the stench of your whore home with you, so you must have rushed to get here." 

His shadow loomed over the Morris chair which held her as he drew near, frowning. "You will not speak to me in that manner, young lady. And we will not have this discussion. Not again. It is my house, and I demand respect for as long as you live here." 

Victoria clasped her fingers tighter, pushing them into the dove-gray material of her lap. She looked at him through the spikes of her lashes, keeping her voice quite even. "It was my mother's house before it was yours. But I suppose I shall have to learn respect, since I intend to remain here. I cancelled my engagement today. I will not be marrying Thomas after all." 

Quietly swearing beneath his breath, he stomped away from her toward the crystal decanter which awaited his attentions every evening. "Victoria, I weary of these discussions. It's late, and-" 

"Yes, it is. And I am anxious to go to bed. There's no need for discussion. I simply thought you had a right to know. I spoke to Thomas this afternoon, and everything is settled." She allowed herself a faint smile. "He seemed rather relieved, actually." 

"This engagement is not over!" His voice seemed to rattle the rafters of the house. "That man will pay his debt to me one way or-" 

Calming himself, he poured a glass of sherry. "I suppose you suspected his intentions all along?" 

"I did."  

"And you intend to spend your life as a spinster, cloistered in that sad little room of yours?" 

"I am still young. I have time. And perhaps I may purchase a suitable husband with my inheritance. Or not. But with all due 'respect', Papa, I would rather die untouched than risk bringing a creature into this world that might fall under your influence in any way." 

Phillip Harvey tasted his drink, grunting with satisfaction. "So I am to be the villain in all this, eh? I am the one to blame because you are bland. Plain. Without talent or spirit, or anything a man might find attractive." His gaze flicked up and down her body as he bared his teeth, grimacing. "Your mother wasn't blessed with brains, but at least she had beauty." 

Victoria gave him a curious stare. "Is that why you killed her?" 

She had expected an angry reaction. She simply hadn't anticipated his speed. The back of his hand tore across her cheek, knocking her some distance away from the chair. She landed with a painful thump on her side, his pointing finger in her face before her head stopped reeling. "Don't you ever--EVER--say that to me again. Understand?" 

Waiting until he returned to his drink, Victoria slowly stood. She felt slightly unsteady, and the electric lamps had become coils of streaming light to her dazed eyes. Facing him without flinching, she delicately dabbed at a small drop of blood at the corner of her mouth, as if it were a bit of butter. "May I go to my room now?" 

"I am not a violent man. Why do you make me do these things?" He emptied his glass and poured another. "I know I'm only your stepfather, but I've been decent to you, despite our differences. If your mother were alive--"