Mary gazed at her stepdaughter. “How badly did he hurt thee, Peregrine? How badly did he hurt thy mother?” “It was no horse that broke her neck.” “She—” “He knew she was plotting. Thou were not the first woman in his circle to visit the likes of Constance Winston.” “And thee?” “He never beat me. Only her. He did things to me that were worse. Far worse. Unnatural things that I told no one until this Sabbath, when I told Rebeckah.”
