Everyone was still at the entrance of the Ashford estate with the door tightly shut behind them. None of them had moved from where they were standing because they were still stunned by the terrifying scene that greeted them when they entered.
Felisha had been straddling her husband on the wide velvet chaise in the centre of the hall. Her emerald gown lay discarded on the floor beside his waistcoat and shirt, the silk pooled like spilt ink. Her husband, who had his hands on her hips, mouth on her neck, low moans escaping both of them as they moved together without shame.
They hadn't stopped when the family walked in.
Not even when Arthur spoke or Cedric covered Evelina's eyes.
Evelina stood there, unable to take her eyes off her stepfather. She could still recall what he had done to her that day.
