They stayed on the heels of the chaise all the way to Shipton. For all Hugo's apparent confidence that Chloe was in no immediate danger, Samuel noticed how drawn his face became when he asked the routine question at each stage of the trail: Had the young woman seemed well?

The answer was invariable. Quiet, travel weary, but nothing untoward.

As they rode into Lancashire, the air took on its familiar crisp clarity, the moorland stretched on either side of the road, the bleak winter brown hidden beneath a glistening coat of snow.

Samuel visibly relaxed as the terrain became familiar. His chin came up out of the folds of his muffler and his body moved more easily with the gait of his horse. Hugo, in contrast, tightened like a bowstring. He sniffed the air, his eyes moving restlessly from side to side as if on the watch for some predator.

They had kept two hours behind their quarry, staying in neighboring inns, so that at all times he felt close enough to Chloe to keep his anxiety in check. The knowledge that he only had to put spur to his horse and he would reach her enabled him to keep his head clear as he formulated and refined his plan.

It was four o'clock in the afternoon of the seventh day when they reached the turnoff to Shipton on the Manchester road. Hugo continued on the road to Denholm.

"Thought we was goin' to Shipton," Samuel commented.

'Tomorrow" was the short answer. Tomorrow night was Friday. Only on Fridays was the crypt used. Jasper wouldn't wait for another week. He'd be assuming that Hugo would at some point put two and two together and he'd want Chloe irrevocably tied to Crispin before there could be any possibility of interference.

The chaise drew up on the gravel sweep before Gresham Hall. The surge of energy that went through the three men was palpable to the still figure, huddled in her cloak in the corner of the vehicle. Terror threatened to overwhelm her. There had been no opportunities for escape. She had been watched constantly and each night slept tethered to her brother. At least Crispin had kept his distance and she'd managed to avoid further punishment at Jasper's chillingly insouciant hands.

But now they were on Jasper's land, surrounded by his people. There were no strangers to tell tales, no reins he need put upon his actions.

The footstep was lowered and Jasper jumped down. "Out!" he beckoned Chloe.

She moved to obey. Crispin unnecessarily put a hand in the small of her back and pushed her so she half fell down the steps. Jasper caught her, and it occurred to her with a fresh surge of terror that only he stood between herself and Crispin's unbridled appetite for cruelty. Jasper was vicious, but it was purposeful. Crispin enjoyed inflicting pain for its own sake.

She hadn't been inside Gresham Hall since she was a child, but it seemed as oppressive as ever when she stepped into the hall. The air was musty. Though Den-holm Manor had also been unkempt and neglected, it had felt different. Or perhaps it was only her experiences of the two houses that was so different.

"Jasper…"

A tentative voice came from the shadows behind the stairs, and Louise moved hesitantly into the dim afternoon light. "Chloe… I didn't know…"

"Don't be a fool, of course you knew," her husband snapped, pulling off his gloves. "I told you to have the west attic chamber prepared."

"Yes… but… but you didn't say why." Louise wrung her hands, gazing at the still figure of her half sister-in-law. "Chloe dear…" She held out her hands in a ludicrous gesture of welcome.

"Louise." Chloe inclined her head in brief acknowledgment. She knew no evil of Jasper's wife, but then, she knew no good of her either. A passive partner in evil was still an enemy.

"You must make your farewells to Denis, little sister," Jasper said, mockery lacing his voice. "You'll not see him again until your wedding night. After such a close friendship, I know you'll wish to bid him farewell with all due courtesy."

Chloe didn't deign to reply, but she stared full into Denis's eyes, hoping that he could read her contempt. He had that rather smug smile on his face again and an anticipatory gleam in his eye that brought a resurgence of the cold fear she fought so desperately to keep below the surface of her thoughts.

"Crispin, take her up and lock her in." It was a sharp order.

So now Crispin was to come into his own. Chloe swallowed hard and stiffened her spine as Crispin seized her arm. "I don't need help," she said clearly. "I'm quite capable of mounting the stairs alone."

"Move." He twisted her arm behind her back and she bit her lip on the pain, moving ahead of him without another word.

"Come straight down." Jasper spoke from the hall when they were halfway up the stairs, and relief washed through her. Jasper had not yet abdicated control.

The west attic chamber was a small room under the eaves with a grimy round dormer window. The other attics in the west wing were all used for storage, and when the sound of Crispin's feet had faded from the passage, Chloe could hear no signs of life at all.

The room held a poster bed, a dresser, an armless chair. There was cold water in the ewer, a chamber pot beneath the bed.

So now what? She sat down on the bed and wished she had Dante with her. She'd never felt as alone as she did now. Even in the lonely wasteland of her childhood there'd been animals… always someone worse off than she was. Now there was nothing.

Tears tracked down her cheeks, and for a while she indulged them. Then she heard steps in the corridor outside. She hastily rose to her feet, splashed water on her face, and sat in the chair, her face turned toward the window so the traces of tears wouldn't be immediately visible to whoever entered.

It was Jasper, accompanied by a servant, who put down the portmanteau she'd used on the journey. He left immediately, closing the door. Jasper turned the key and stood regarding his sister for a moment.

"Louise will find you a change of clothes," he said. "Otherwise, you have everything you need."

"Thank you," she said, hearing how ridiculous it sounded.

"Let me make a few things clear to you." He came over to her chair. "Stand up."

Chloe did so. What choice did she have?

"Look at me."

That was harder. She didn't want him to see the tracks of her tears. Then Jasper made it simple. He slapped her face again and any tears could be easily explained. She raised her head and looked at him.

"That's better. Tomorrow evening, you will be married to Crispin-"

"No" She winced in expectation of another blow, but it didn't come.

"Don't interrupt," he said in an almost bored tone. "As I was saying, tomorrow evening you will be married to Crispin. Afterward, you will be presented in the crypt, as your mother was. What she failed to do, you, her daughter, will make up for. It is the way of the Congregation," he added with a rich note of conviction. "We do not leave things unfinished, and I've waited nigh on fifteen years to fulfill the obligation.

"After that…" He shrugged. "That's for Crispin to decide. Your fortune will pass into his hands, and thus into my hands, as it should have done on the death of my father. Somehow, your mother managed-" He stopped abruptly, but the ugliness of his expression remained. Elizabeth, the innocent, the fool, had somehow outmaneuvered both her husband and his son.

"You will take your mother's place," he resumed, "and fulfill your mother's obligations with one difference. It will be the consummation of your marriage and Crispin will take your virginity. That is all." He turned from her.

"Not quite," Chloe said, unsure why she was speaking except that she had a desperate need to puncture her brother's calm assurance. "Crispin cannot take my virginity. It's not there to be taken."