Free Saint Kate of the Cupcake: The Dangers of Lust and Baking by L.C. Fenton

reprieve from the endless planning, I had slipped off briefly to draw breath in the library. Closing the door softly behind me, I almost hadn’t caught the sobbed intake of breath. Following the sound, I’d found Crispin on the floor behind a wood cabinet, his arms tightly wrapped around his knees as he tried to hold himself together. A large raised red welt marked his cheek, and I could see more on his neck and forearms where his sleeves were pushed back.
    I’d sat down in the chair next to him, silent and not touching him as he shook.
    “Why does she do this to us?” he had asked eventually, when his shudders had decreased.
    “I don’t know. It’s not you. She has some serious issues.” There had been no need to ask who had struck him with what looked to be a riding crop. Nor had it seemed to be the first time, from Crispin’s resigned look.
    “I didn’t do anything .” He’d rubbed the fresh tears out of his eyes. “It’s because of you. This is supposed to be a reminder that I shouldn’t repeat Jack’s mistake.” His eyes had turned on me, becoming hardened and angry. I was so stunned I couldn’t think of anything to say. How was this my fault?
    “I see you for what you are—a gold-digging whore who trapped my brother into marriage with your pregnancy. You’ll never be one of us,” he’d spat and, jumping up, run out of the room. Why did he think I was pregnant? Why would someone be saying that when it wasn’t true? I had still been sitting there, shocked and dumbfounded, trying to understand what that had been all about, when someone found me and dragged me back to the wedding planning, not that I’d been needed.
    Later, I’d raised what had happened with Jack.
    “Did your mother do that to you?” I asked.
    “Look, she used to ‘discipline’ us a lot when we were younger. Crispin never copped much of it and so was just upset.”
    “Understandably! You know that’s not normal,” I pressed.
    “Yes, I know. Mother has a temper and is stressed about the wedding, so she probably lashed out.”
    “We are not going to beat our children.” There was no way I would be okay with him replicating his mother’s parenting. This had not been a discussion I ever thought I would have, but this was a deal breaker for me.
    “No, of course not. I know you wouldn’t be like that, and it’s one of the reasons I want you for the mother of my children. You’ll do a much better job.” He’d smiled sadly.
    “Crispin was really upset. He thinks I’m after your money and trapped you by getting pregnant.”
    “I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” he’d said, placating.
    Troubled, but realizing there was little I could do, I’d let it drop.
    I drifted out of my reverie, aware of the car tires crunching over the cold stones of the front driveway, as we came to a stop directly outside the front door. The drawing room curtains twitched; Edwina had obviously been watching for us. In my pleasantly drugged state, I was completely unbothered by it. Maybe I could take these lovely pills the whole time, I thought, before realizing that not only was it bad for me, but I didn’t have nearly enough. Maybe next year , I consoled myself.
    Willing myself to open the car door, it still took a few seconds. It was the moment after the wax strip had been applied, that peaceful, non-painful moment, just before the pain of lots of small hairs being ripped out. You were committed to the pain—there was only one way out of the situation. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and got out of the car.
    I arranged my face into a smile and greeted Bellham, the Preedys’ most recent butler/handyman, who had opened the door to meet us. Edwina was so diabolical that staff never lasted that long. She was ridiculously exacting, micromanaging every aspect of their jobs, usually with more conviction of her own superiority than understanding of the job. She genuinely believed that birth was more important than character, or rather that