Trigger warnings: Mild verbal and physical abuse and non-graphic rape.

Blake Cavendish paced across the floors outside of his father's study door. The dark wooden door swam in and out of his vision, taunting him.

He bit his lips, wondering if he should knock. Every time he gathered an ounce of courage to and raised his hand, his resolve weakened at the last second. The Marquess of Alton was a domineering man, not accustomed to being challenged or opposed. Blake, many a time, had received a strong box on his ears in his younger days for his insolence.

And even now, at the age of twenty summers, he could not armor himself with iron-like strength when confronting his father. But he must. For her.

Sophia.

Blake had always fancied himself a strong, brave man, yet he had been a coward today. He had run at the first sight of danger to his inheritance, instead of grueling himself to face this hardship and standing up to his father to do the right thing. It was indeed his duty and honor that he had forsaken when he refused to marry Sophia, two things a nobleman should never abandon. Sophia had been right; perhaps some persistence could have made his father accepting of their marriage and not disown him. She had been willing to try, yet he hadn't. He had the bollocks of a eunuch.

Instead, he had condemned her to a life of hell. A few moments after the Duchess had told everyone of his and Sophia's liaison, he had bolted in fear of getting mobbed by the crowd. But that was not before he got a glimpse of her face—downturned and close to tears. Sophia's trembling lips and flushed cheeks had twisted his heart into the grave. He knew at that moment he should have walked to her and asked for her hand.

Yet, he had run and it would haunt him for the rest of his life.

But he could make it right now, or at least try. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door of his father's study with his sweaty, curled fist and waited.

Seconds later, a deep voice called out from in the room. "Enter."

Blake pushed open the door to his father's study. The strong smell of cigars and old books hit him and he coughed.

Hearing him, his father's brown eyes peered at him from above his circular spectacles before he cast them down again and his thin, dark lips twisted.

"What is that you require, son?" The Marquess asked as he scribbled something hastily on his parchment, the quill making a scratchy sound across the paper.

Blake watched his father dip the quill into the ink and scribble some more, hesitant to speak still. He gulped and clasped his hands behind his back, wringing them together as if the movement would incite confidence in him. It didn't work.

"Your blessing," Blake finally blurted out.

The Marquess let out a little scoff. He took off his spectacles and glared at Blake, the hints of a sardonic smile capturing his lips. "Whatever for?"

"To marry Sophia Brighton, the niece of the Duchess of Carlton."

The Marquess stared at him stonily before erupting into laughter. "Marriage? You, my incorrigible son, wish to get married? I should see that as a step in the right direction, certainly. I have been insisting you do so for quite some time. But I am rather afraid I cannot let you marry the daughter of that gambling, cheating scoundrel however much I enjoy this new, changed you." He hooted once more, shaking his head in disbelief. "Marriage."

"Well, you must." Blake let out a breath between his slightly parted lips as he tried to still his thudding heart. The next sentence he would utter was quite possibly the scariest thing he had ever done.

The Marquess responded calmly yet Blake could see the anger slowly flushing under his skin. "And why is that?"

One more deep breath.

"I seduced her and convinced her to carry out a scandalous liaison, an indiscretion if you would, with myself. Now, all of London knows. Although I did not take her purity, everyone is under the assumption that I did and that she may be with child. We have both been shamed and scorned, but she more than I. My honor and duty compel me to marry her and so does propriety. She doesn't deserve to be humiliated because of my actions which I take full responsibility for. It is the right thing to do, and I am sure that you, a man who wears his honor like a cloak, would agree."

The last part was utter blasphemy. No man with 'honor' would aim to marry his son into a station above his own. It was an ambition that went against society's dictation of right and wrong.

The Marquess' nostrils flared, unamused. "I knew that at some point you would humiliate and shame our family like this, but ruining a noblewoman's pure reputation? That is just as bad as taking her virtue altogether! I had never thought you would disgrace yourself and our family like this. It was acceptable when it was just whores...but this. And to the niece of the family we wanted to marry you into!"

He slammed his hands on the table and Blake involuntarily flinched.

"You have disgraced our name, tainted it. And now you want to marry her! Whispers would follow you and our family name for our entire lives. You and your scandalous wife will be rejected from any social events because you will be social pariahs. Not to mention she also brings along other disgraces! Not only is she station below our own but also the daughter of the Earl of Conway—a disreputable man, rumored to beat his dead wife!" The Marquess stalked towards Blake and grabbed his shirt, pushing him against the wall.

"The only thing you have married yourself to is more disgrace and scandal. It baffles me how I begot a son such as yours. Lost all sense of duty and property, defending pathetic women and now..." he let out a bitter laugh, "now you have gone and ruined another girl. Instead of saving your skin, you are begging to save hers as well and, in the process, inflicting public shame onto yourself."

Blake opened to his mouth to speak, but the Marquess shushed him, sneering. "Maybe she could be added to the list of noblewomen turned whores whose legs you have spread."

Blake snapped at that and growled, shoving his father away. Everything in his world burned a scorching red and his blood turned into acid that corroded his senses. "You will not speak of her like that. It was a mistake on both our parts and now she only is paying for the consequences. She doesn't deserve that and I can make it right. As the instigator of our clandestine relationship, it is my duty to finish it."

The Marquess ran his gaze over Blake's face as the nerve in his bearded jaw ticked. "You've fallen in love with this whore, is it? I have seen you defending lower scum than her, but not as enthusiastic as this. A special whore, eh? Fine, marry her. You both can live on the gold she fetches by inviting other men in her bed because if you marry her, your inheritance will be stripped away. You will not be my heir."

It was as Blake had thought and predicted, but that didn't mean he had to give up. If Sophia had faith in him changing his father's mind, he had to as well. "I am going to tell her I will marry her, save our reputation and one day I will be the Marquess of Alton with her as my Marchioness. Nothing will make me happier, Father. Would you not like to see me happy?"

Blake didn't see the backhand blow coming until his head spun. He stumbled and his vision became dotted. He could feel hot blood trickling down his from his nose, licking his upper lip.

"You dare oppose me?" His father's face was a flame as his chest heaved. "You will marry a girl higher than you in society-- a Duke's daughter with her virginity intact. You will not marry some woman who you defiled, and Earl daughter's no less because that would make you 'happy'. I don't give a hell's damnation about your happiness. Your familial duty comes first. I am looking out for you, and it is your duty to the same for your family. Marrying that defiled wench is not the way to help your family."

Family? Blake scoffed. There was nothing 'familial' in his father's interest to rise higher in society. It was personal. His eyes gleamed with lust for power and coffers that a marriage to a duke's daughter could bring.

"No."

"No? NO?" The Marquess delivered another blow to his face and Blake heard the crunch of his nose being broken. Pain lanced through his skull and he gritted his teeth.

"You will not marry that girl. Not now, not ever." Spittle flew out of the Marquess' mouth as he grabbed the collar of Blake's coat to once again throttle him. His white spit matched the tendrils of white threaded through his dark beard. "I always thought you hadn't a spine. A coward was what I called you, but I was wrong. The nerve of you to even ask this.

He suddenly called out for the butler and he came in through the door, bowing.

"Yes, milord?"

The Marquess gave Blake a look of hate and fury intermingled. "Make sure my son does not leave his room. Feed all of his meals inside. He will not be allowed anywhere outside without me knowing of it—even to his whorehouse. Gods knows," he smirked to infuriate Blake further, "his fallen woman might end up there and I don't want any chances for my heir to run off with her."

"I want to marry her. I will. I can live without the inheritance or title." Blake wasn't entirely sure if that were true, but a sense of impulsive thinking commandeered him now.

Alton scoffed. "You cannot. Your title and inheritance are your very identity and gold your salvation. Hope Lady Brighton wasn't made any promises by you that you will marry her. But if you have, it seems such a pity your honor can no longer save her." He jutted his chin out and the butler grabbed Blake's arm. Blake shook him off but he just grabbed on again.

"To your chambers, if it please you, milord."

Blake glared his father, venom in his veins and ice in his heart. "This is a grievous mistake, Father. I will bring shame upon this house, more than before. I will not help this family ascend higher in society."

The Marquis scoffed as he poured himself a drink. He sipped the amber-gold liquid, glancing at Blake with indifference. "You've done the worst. I am not sure if you can shame his family even more. Yet, you needn't worry about shame and humiliation for much longer. Your wife will certainly help ground all rumors to dust."

Blake froze. "Wife?"

The Marquess shrugged nonchalantly, his lips twisting into a superior smirk. "I had the pleasurable experience of meeting the Duke of Malbro yesterday. Upon some discussion, we have decided you that it would be best if you marry his youngest daughter, Elizabeth. The letter there," he tilted his chin to the parchment he had been scribbling on before Blake had entered, "was to confirm the details of your courtship. He is hesitant to marry her to you, given your infidel nature, but I am sure she will be beguiled by your charm. You managed to get a noblewoman to conceit her virtue you, I am sure you can convince a proper lady to become your wife. Of course, it is completely settled which was why I didn't mention it to you, but in the light of the recent tide of events, bets if I revealed it."

"I thought you wished me to marry one of the Duchess of Carlton's daughters? Wasn't that why you didn't want me to slight her and wanted me to attend all gathering held in honor for her niece." Blake's eyebrows shot up in confusion while he still glowered at his father.

"Not anymore, once it came to my notice that Malbro's daughter had a much higher dowry. Yet, we still had to keep the Duchess's daughters as an option. Malbro is known for his sly nature; he may at any time withdraw your courtship if he feels another suitor may be more beneficial. However, given your recent foolishness, the Duchess of Carlton and Malbro may both reject your suit."

"Good, because I will not marry Elizabeth."

"You will."

"I will if you promise me you will find a suitor for Lady Sophia Brighton to wed." It was a gamble, a foolish one, but it did not hurt to try.

His father could arrange a match with a lord that didn't frequent London often; a lord who preferred the countryside. If Blake didn't marry Sophia but some other lord salvaged her reputation, some of her humiliation would be submerged. She would still be a social pariah, but at least the rumors and whispers would be behind closed doors, not openly. The lord's fortune could help her family's status as well. She could build a future for herself. Although not 'ruined' by him, she still was socially unacceptable. But her possible husband wouldn't know that and by the time she did, they would be bound in marriage. It was the second-best ideal solution, yet...

"All right. Marry Elizabeth and I will find your whore a husband."

Blake clenched his fingers to prevent himself from pummeling his father. "How do I know you will keep up your word?"

"I unlike you, have honor."

"Very well, I will marry Elizabeth. For Lady Brighton."

Darius' hand pounded with pain and his knuckles a bright red, slowly turning purplish. Yet, the wall he had just punched just continued to stare at him blankly. He kicked at it, trying to let go of his frustration. "I am going to kill you! I am going to kill you, Lord Herrick. And Lady Brighton...oh you cunning witch!"

How dare Lady Sophia defile herself? She had to remain pure for him? She had to marry him! He was very much looking forward to his marriage night—had been for years. And when the moment had finally come, Lord Herrick, that absolute bastard, had ruined it.

He had taken what was his.

Sophia Brighton was to be his wife, the woman to warm his bed every night, or whenever he wanted, really. Her soft face and surely softer, pliant body were to be all his. From the moment he saw her and her innocent face, she had him entrapped. Her demure glances and the way her cheeks flushed red when she felt happy or embarrassed—it made his heart ache for her.

Now, it was all gone. Lord Herrick had to pay. Lady Sophia Brighton should pay as well for denying him her body, but how could he possibly hurt her? She still held his soul and every time her face swam up to his mind, his loins and heart tightened. Lord Herrick didn't deserve that slice of heaven, that breathing angel.

Darius did and it was taken from him. Rage funneled through him and he punched the wall again, screaming like an insolent child.

He wanted no other woman than Sophia, wanted to marry no one but her. Yet, he couldn't attach himself to a defied woman, however much she held his heart. It did not befit his station or what he deserved. He only had to have what no other man had when it came to women. That was why he even paid extra silver for virgin whores at the brothel and it was worth it to know he was the first man to take that woman. He relished in that power that she would forever remember him as the one who took her virtue—hard.

Thinking of that made a heat surge through his loins and it mixed with his anger.

Darius was in the mind to go and kill Lord Herrick now, but death seemed too easy of a punishment. Yes, Darius would instead wait until Lord Herrick fell in love. He would wait until he knew how it felt like to have every thought consumed by a woman—and then he would gag him and take her right in front of his eyes, like how he took Sophia.

And then he would kill her.

Only then would Lord Herrick feel the hurt Darius felt now. Only then would he feel the pain of something soulful being taken away from him. It could take years from now, but Darius could bide his time. The best things were always worth waiting for, the forbidden fruit the tastiest when ripened.

On the same talk of forbidden fruit...

The door opened and a servant girl curtsied. "Milord, you asked for me?"

Darius turned towards her, his grey eyes gleaming with lust. The maid's blue eyes looked at him with uncertainty, her large eyelashes brushing her soft, pale cheeks. She wasn't half as beautiful as Lady Brighton, but when he had finally taken note of her today after coming home from the disastrous tea party, he knew he had to have her. That was the only way he could get the image of bedding Sophia out of his mind—to bed someone who looked like her. It seemed the universe was on his side—providing this woman when he needed it.

"Your name?"

"Alice, milord." She curtsied.

"You are the maid who has recently joined the household, yes?" Darius prowled around the room then walked toward her, tilting her chin up to look at him. Her nose was larger than Sophia's, her lips flatter and thicker but she would have to do. At least she had the same hair as Sophia, the ones he had dreams after dreams of grabbing as he took her from behind.

"Yes, milord." Her lips trembled as he ran the pad of his thumb across it.
"Don't be afraid of your lord."

"Of course, milord." Some of the tremble disappeared from her voice.

"It seems I am quite upset over a woman. You wouldn't want your lord to be disheartened, would you?" He moved behind her, pressing his pants against her bottom, allowing her to feel the bulge growing in his loins.

The girl's frame trembled as he ran his fingers over her shoulders up to her neck and then fisted it in her raven hair. "N...no, milord."

He would never feel Sophia under him and only this raven-haired, blue-eyed imposter could be his—a poor copy. She wasn't half a beautiful and didn't have half as many beautiful curves as Sophia did. He supposed something was better than nothing at all. He would have to get Sophia out of his mind if were to plan his revenge.

"Are you pure?"

The girl gave him a small nod.

"Good." He ripped her ugly, brown servant dress cleanly in half in the back and it fell to the floor, leaving her naked to his gaze. She immediately tried to cover herself with her hands and he forcefully pried her hands away.

"Let me see you."

She resisted and he slapped her, her cheeks welting up a bright red.

He grabbed her arm, forcing her to look at him. "You will let me see you. All of you. You are mine tonight. Understood?"

Short, fearful breaths escaped the girl's nose and she nodded slightly.

"Good. I need you to pretend to be my once-to-be wife. You will respond to the name Sophia. Is that understood?" He turned her cheek sharply to make her look at him in the eyes and she nodded, tears welling up in those ocean depths. He pushed her chin away with disgust.

"Lady Brighton would never cry when she was with me but only beg for me to take her as every woman does. Now you have ruined this too."

"I...I am sorry milord...I..."

"Be quiet and face the wall. I don't want to see you when I take you now."

Yet, even the servant wench couldn't help get Sophia out of his mind and that just fueled his need for revenge—which he vowed to get.

However long it took. However damn long it took. Lord Herrick would pay. 

A/N: Whowee, that was a completely NEW addition to this book, that wasn't there in the prior draft. It was very intense to write and edit. Please do let me know your thoughts. Are you happy Blake finally owned up and tried to help Sophia? Do you think the Marquess will hold good on his promise? And Darius, what did you think about him?

Comment below! I LOVE hearing your thoughts and interacting with my readers.

Please know that I do not condone non-consensual sex and this is PURELY fictional.

Readers! Thank you for taking the time to read this chapter! Be sure to vote, comment and share it with others! Every single thing means the world to me! I love you all!