Loathing Persuasion | (Regency Romance Novella)

══ Chapter Eleven ══

Thomas felt nothing. His chest was vacant, never meant to protect its contents. That unoccupied place tightened at the mention of his father in any business meeting and it left him almost gasping for air if they were in the same room. In situations when that was inevitable, his skin tingled, burned and he wanted to leave red marks all over it, but even his hands seemed foreign to himself. Lord Hardy saw through his son, pleased with his actions and the lack of them. An abandoned animal represented no complications when taking over and controlling the life it was supposed to pursue. He could put every second in reinforcing his bland restrained personality, it did not matter for the man who had raised him. Thomas would become what Benedict had been entitled and destined for.

"If you dare to fail me once more, the rest of your miserable existence will be a guaranteed inferno," his father repeated to Thomas before every negotiation or encounter with important people whose worth in gold transcends yours.

Mr. Allen drowned in despair upon seeing his most beloved relative live in constant abuse. He accompanied him to social gatherings, critical dinners and sat drinking brandy for hours in Boodle's club. The latest place did not represent moments of ease in most cases as Thomas was still subjugated to certain purposes his father had commanded (to engage in amiable conversation with respectable gentlemen, gain a name for himself, analyse those inside for it could represent an advantage in the future). Arthur supported him whenever he realised his complexion turned pale, sweat appeared at the back of his neck, his hands trembling intertwined at his back, extreme tension on his muscles or a subtle change in his breathing. Mr. Allen had learnt to read Tommy long ago, grateful for what he considered to be his most useful talent.

After they returned to Lord Hardy's house, Arthur ignored his cousin's pleas to not confront nor maintain any discussion with his father, though sometimes it was hard to listen through the rage. His uncle was destroying Thomas. At nights, Mr. Allen created a habit of going first to the heir's room. He was terrified to find a no turning back point. That made it increasingly difficult for Thomas to hide from his cousin the degree up to which his fidgeting had worsened: hands full of red marks and bleeding on the worst days. He concealed the truth as much as he could, acquiring from beauty shops lady's makeup to cover all evidence. Arthur did not deserve to be bothered as he already cared for him enough. A burden, you are a burden, a burden for Arthur, for your family, for the world. Thomas needed to become a respectable stoic figure or he would crumble and disappear like dust with the breeze.

Lord Hardy was back to constant bed rest after his escapade outside of the capital, it increased his health problems though that did not prevent him from being a nuisance. He called for Thomas during a grey afternoon introducing the upcoming autumn rain.

"Yes, father?"

The room had the curtains closed, a hand-sized gap to allow the light inside. Every mobiliary and object was meticulously organised by Lord Hardy's personal servant. There were firm pillows surrounding him per orders of his nurse. The countenance he carried gave the sensation of an enhanced fragility. Even so, his eyes remained venomous.

"Your sisters will attend a boarding school," Lord Hardy paused for the idea to sink and smiled.

"This idea occurred to me due to your...behaviour and influence on them. They need to be exposed to environments that contribute to their formation as high society ladies. I am sure you wish them the best, which they will earn by living that experience."

Thomas bowed in agreement. "Indeed father."

"Alright then. You may go."

The man he was obliged to call father, little by little, was taking everyone he cared for away, leaving him all to his mercy. Isolated, controlling a person was undemanding, easier. Arthur returned from visiting his parents and found Mr. Hardy in the music room, a glass of wine on top of the piano while he poured his entire being on the music.