On top of all of that, Dicky would also be spouting criticism after criticism of her looks, her dress, her speech, her comportment, her family members, her intelligence, her naivety, her friends or her lack of them. It would be a steady trickle of abuse that slowly eroded every last vestige of self-esteem she possessed until she longed for nothing but the escape of sleep. There was no other escape available to her. Suicide was out of the question, as was divorce.

“Where is your father?” Dicky barked suddenly, drawing her attention back to the matter at hand. “What kind of man leaves two young unmarried women to gallivant about the city without his escort?”

“Visiting us is hardly gallivanting about the city,” Christiana protested quickly to forestall Suzette doing so. “Please husband, your breakfast will be getting cold. Why do you not—”

“Our breakfast,” Dicky corrected sharply and then smiled in a way that made her sigh inwardly. He had thought of a way to punish someone. “But you’re right. It is getting cold while we waste our time on uninvited guests.”

Christiana found her hand suddenly caught up in his as Dicky began to drag her up the hall , “Show my wife’s sisters to the parlor, Haversham. We shall attend them after we have enjoyed the breakfast cook has worked so hard to produce.”

Christiana cast a glance that was half apologetic and half warning to her sisters and then she was in the breakfast room and Dicky was slamming the door closed behind them.

“Your father should be ashamed of raising three such unruly creatures,” Dicky snarled as he led her to the sideboard and the food waiting there. “A little discipline would have gone a long way toward making better women of you all . But then he has little discipline himself, does he not?”

Christiana remained silent, merely picking up a plate and beginning to select food from the offerings. She had learned long ago that to try to argue her case merely ensured an even longer, more furious rant, so simply chose a piece of toast and some fruit and started to turn away.

“You will eat a proper breakfast, wife,” Dicky snapped, bringing her to a halt. “Give me your plate.”

Christiana bit her tongue as he snatched the china away, and managed to swallow the sigh that tried to escape as Dicky began to pile kidneys and kippers on her plate. She hated both kidneys and kippers and he knew that. It seemed the punishment was starting already.

“There. Now you may sit.”

A glance at the plate Dicky shoved under her nose showed that he’d added scrambled eggs to the kidneys and kippers. She preferred boiled eggs, but merely took the plate and turned to take her place at the table. But she was wishing the whole while that she had the nerve to toss the plate, food and all , in his face. Unfortunately, she never did anything so bold, ever. She might have, had he dared to treat her like this before they were married, but he had been all charm and compliments then. This behavior hadn’t started until after the wedding, and Christiana had been so startled and taken aback by the sudden transformation in his attitude that she’d been slow to stand up for herself. It had left her feeling as dazed as if someone had hit her in the head. By the time she’d got over the shock and even considered standing up for herself, it was too late, the criticisms and abuse had already taken effect and rather than argue, she’d found herself wondering if perhaps the dress he was criticizing wasn’t cut too low, or that the shade might clash with her coloring. Her self-confidence had been shaken, and as time had passed it was shaken more. Now rather than even consider that he might be wrong, she simply tried to appease him, soothe his temper and please him if possible. Somehow she had become a slave with less rights than the servants who worked for them.