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The screen door slammed shut and she jumped as if it was the shot she’d fired so long ago. It echoed in her mind and the smell of cordite burned in her nostrils. It had been his .45 that she had found hidden in the ratty folds of the his recliner and she remembered how her heart had pounded in her chest as she gingerly handled the silver gun, her dirty, bitten fingernails rubbing the long barrel as if it spoke to her. Security, it said. Freedom, it whispered. And she listened. The stairs going up to her room creaked in all the very same places as before as she traced the steps that her drunken father would take. She would be lying in her tiny bed, ducking her head under the covers when she heard the heavy, uneven steps. Sometimes he’d even sing to her on the way to rape her. Cassie, how I love ya, how I love ya, my sweet girl, Cassie! The tears burned her eyelids as she screwed them shut, her teeth fixed in a painful grimace. The door would swing open, squeaking like a dying loon and. A moment later, following a footman, Marcus stepped out into the gardens. For a moment he went unnoticed and was able to survey those gathered below. The Countess stood off to one side, watching to ensure the guests were having a good time and directing the staff. Her daughter Ellie stood in the center of everything, her bright blonde hair a beacon. Beside her stood her fiance, Lord Stephen Mathews. One look at the man and everyone could see that he was positively besotted with his soon to be bride. The rest of the crowd was unsurprising, the typical lords and ladies gathered to entertain and be entertained in return. Marcus noted that there wasn’t a married lady in the bunch and sighed. Taking a deep breath, Marcus was preparing to step into the crowd when a sudden movement off to his left drew his attention. Sitting alone, her face turned up to the sun was the new Lady Radcliff. Turning once again to survey the crowd, Marcus confirmed that her husband appeared to be absent..
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