He was true to his word.
After the ceremony—conducted by a muttering priest who was most interested in the money my new husband dangled in front of him—he rang a sonorous bell and the black-clad housekeeper came in, her disapproving expression revealing I would have no allies in this house. “See the lady to her chambers,” the count said. “I’ll be back in a week.”
And without saying a word to me, without even looking at me, he left.
I took a long look around the room, wanting to scream in terror or run out to find someone who would help me.
But no one would listen. No one would help.
I was entirely and completely alone.
My Dark Husband by Percy Wittlesford