Morgan leveled his gaze on Sebastian. Sebastian looked straight back. The rest of the conversation passed without words. Then they returned to their coffee and mail.
“I will put out the true story of what transpired at the Two Swords,” Sebastian said when he rose to leave. “For everyone’s sake, that might be best.”
“The truth is always best, Sebastian.”
The hell it was.
Scandal created the oddest excitement, Audrianna thought the next afternoon. The household became both funereal and charged with purpose at the same time.
Lizzie and Celia had debated long into the night just how Audrianna might be salvaged. They came to the problem from very different perspectives. Lizzie believed that at best a few decades of impeccable living and significant charitable work would be needed to redeem a fall that involved the loss of virtue. Celia opined that a confident demeanor, superb style, and one important lover could get a woman back in society faster, and at a more elevated position.
Neither asked which Audrianna preferred. She just sat there on her bed while they picked apart the disaster her life had become.
The next morning both of them walked to Cumberworth to post a letter that Audrianna had finally written to her mother. A half hour after they left, it became clear that the letter had been unnecessary. A hired carriage rolled up the lane and stopped in front of Daphne’s house. Audrianna recognized its occupants from where she spied from a window.
Daphne materialized at her side and together they watched her mother and sister approach the door.
“She is distraught, of course,” Daphne said. She referred to the expression on the face of Audrianna’s mother.
Audrianna had never seen her mother look so weary. Even after her father’s death, even during the relentless hounding by Lord Sebastian and others, Mama had not broken completely. Now she walked like it pained her to be alive. She still dressed all in black, even though her remaining friends argued that the period of deep mourning should be shortened if a husband takes his own life.
“Your sister Sarah appears angry,” Daphne said. “For you, I trust.”
“Not for me. She knows what this will cost her.” There had been a chance, a small one, that Sarah might escape the worst of their father’s disgrace. With a modest settlement and a few years passing, she might marry decently even if not as well as she wanted. It was one reason Audrianna had left and come to live with Daphne—to allow her mother to spend what little she had on the one daughter for whom a respectable future might still be attained.
Audrianna followed Daphne to the door. When it opened, both Mama and Sarah had replaced their real feelings with masks of sympathy.
“Dear Aunt Meg,” Daphne greeted, leaning in for a kiss. “It is fortunate that you have come. There is much that we must discuss.”
“The most preposterous tale came to my ears, Lord Sebastian.” Mr. John Pond, Astronomer Royal, peered into the observatory’s new ten-foot transit telescope while he spoke. He tipped the mechanism a fraction of an inch and peered again. Above them a panel in the Greenwich Meridian Building had been opened to the stars.
“It was about that business at the Two Swords outside Brighton. A long, elaborate, fantastical tale is now being told. Something about a mysterious intruder and a coincidental meeting. Your friends should devise a more plausible explanation if they seek to absolve you.”
Sebastian had known Pond for over ten years. They had met when Sebastian was still at university, and the noted astronomer had since taught him a few things about his science that could not be learned from books and lectures. A friendship had developed, which now allowed Sebastian easy access to the observatory, and also allowed Pond to speak so freely.
“I have no friends with imaginations fertile enough to concoct such a story. Or stupid enough to hope such an absurd truth would be believed faster than a more damning lie. The story that you heard came from none other than me.”
Pond turned his head just enough to look askance at Sebastian with his free eye. “You are saying that is what really happened with that young woman?”
“I am. You have my word as a gentleman.”
Pond went back to his study of the heavens. “No one will believe it.”
No, probably not. No one would actually say it was a lie, though. That could mean a duel. But sly grins and raised eyebrows could hold entire conversations that spoke what the mouth could not.
It was a hell of a thing. The truth, which had spread faster than the scandal, seemed only to stoke speculation owing to its peculiar circumstances, and to the fact that it touched on Miss Kelmsleigh’s father.
Better to have kept silent on that whole matter.
“The heavens are unusually clear,” Pond said. “It was a good night for you to come. It has been too long.”
Too long, like so much else. Too long without a woman unless he observed the most stifling discretion. Too long without a good ride in the country with no destination. Too long since he had indulged any of his interests that required time, like these astronomical studies that had once been his claim to displaying any purpose besides the pursuit of pleasure.
Having taken his brother’s place, he should have executed those duties as his brother had, and not allowed duty and government to absorb his life. Morgan himself had never done that. But then Morgan was the marquess, and had nothing to prove.
Pond pushed away from the telescope and jotted some notes on a paper near his chair. “I am done. It is all yours. I will leave you the list of stars I am observing, and you can make notes. You can help me make Brinkley eat his theory.”
Sebastian adjusted the chair, which was designed to allow a semireclined angle to match the telescope’s trajectory. He settled himself into it, leaned back, and positioned himself at the end of the long, dark metal tube held firmly in place by two massive, flanking piers.
“Be sure to alert the watchman when you leave, so the building can be locked,” Pond said.
Sebastian adjusted the eyepiece. He peered into the dark sky, and gave himself over to awe of the eternity that the cosmos implied. Nothing at all in his small, transient world seemed very important when he gazed at the stars. Certainly not the decision that had set him on the road to Greenwich tonight, seeking distraction.
Chapter Eight
“He has come,” Celia announced, running into the greenhouse. “I was walking past the library window when movement outside down the lane caught my eye. He is on horse. He appears quite magnificent.”
“Of course he has come,” Daphne said. She began un-tying her apron. “If he had waited much longer, we would have had to go to him. He would not want that.”
Audrianna wished he had not come. This was going to be horrible.
“I will not countenance this,” she said to Daphne. “It is not fair to expect him to pay, quite literally, for something that was not his fault.”
“Intentionally or not, unavoidable or not, you were compromised. Worse, the whole world is assuming more than is true. He knows that he cannot let it stand unaddressed.”
“I will not accept payment for this scandal. To do so would make me . . .” Complicit. Truly soiled. Perhaps, to his mind, even calculating.
“Then your mother will, in your name. I daresay he intends to do it that way in any case, for appearance’ sake. You will not have any choice.”
Daphne beckoned her to follow into the front sitting room. Celia went to the door, to let Lord Sebastian in.
He entered the drawing room alone, looking sober, determined, and fairly hard. There could be no illusion that this was a simple social call. All the same, Celia’s description had been apt. He did appear magnificent. Tall and dark and commanding, he greeted Daphne and herself.
Daphne invited him to sit. He chose to remain standing. Daphne perched her ethereal self near the window, making clear that she intended to remain as chaperon and negotiator. Audrianna sat as far from Lord Sebastian and the pending humiliation as was possible.<
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“You have no doubt come because of the rumors that are spreading,” Daphne offered after an awkward pause.
“In part, yes.”
Audrianna could only imagine the other part. Fury, most likely, that his name was being impugned so maliciously, and over the daughter of Kelmsleigh no less.
“My aunt, Mrs. Kelmsleigh, is understandably distraught for her entire family,” Daphne said. “Coming on the heels of the false accusations about her husband—well, she fears they are all hopelessly ruined now. She believes that her younger daughter’s future will be as compromised as Audrianna’s. Aunt Meg sees destitution around the corner for them all.”
Lord Sebastian smiled, but it was not one of his winning smiles. Tight and hard, his expression said that he knew where she was going and he did not care to be led to that point by anyone, including her.
“I take responsibility for the current scandal, Mrs. Joyes. I will not do so for whatever came before the night that I met Miss Kelmsleigh, no matter how much you or her mother want to tie it together.”
“Then let us confine our conversation to the night that you met my cousin, sir, and the attendant consequences.”
“The conversation that I came here to have was with Miss Kelmsleigh, much as I am sure you would be a pleasant partner in any discourse.”
“My cousin is too innocent to begin to know how to have the conversation that is necessary. Ideally a male relative would do this duty, but since there is none, I am obligated to—”
“I am right here, Daphne,” Audrianna interrupted. “I am hearing every word. Please stop referring to me as if I am not even in the room.”
Daphne looked over, as if she had indeed forgotten that Audrianna was in the room.
“Mrs. Joyes, I think that Miss Kelmsleigh will acquit herself well enough today,” Lord Sebastian said. “If she can travel to Brighton alone, confront an unknown man, and brandish a pistol, a brief conversation with me will be a small thing in comparison.”
“I agree that this conversation must be between Lord Sebastian and me,” Audrianna said.
Her rebellion surprised Daphne. “Considering the topic, that is most indelicate.”
“I lost undue consideration for my own delicacy some months ago, dear cousin. Independent women, I have learned, must put such indulgences aside.”
Lord Sebastian moved his attention away from Daphne in such a manner as to indicate dismissal. “The day is fair, Miss Kelmsleigh. Shall we tour the garden again?”
Audrianna planned never to be alone in any garden with this man again. “I would much prefer a turn along the lane, if that is acceptable to you.”
“As you wish.”
She fetched her gray pelisse and lilac shawl from pegs near the library, then joined him at the door where he waited for her. Daphne remained in the drawing room, her thoughts hidden behind a mask of serenity.
The morning damp had long ago dried on the grass that flanked the lane. A warm sun hinted at better weather to come, but a crisp breeze chilled enough that Audrianna was glad for her shawl.
Lord Sebastian paced beside her, his boots crunching the twigs littering the ground. His serious countenance suggested that he did not care for the day’s mission, and resented that courtesy obligated him to offer apologies, concern, and the acceptance of blame.
Audrianna glanced back at the shrinking house. She assumed that she would see Daphne at a window, keeping watch. No fair head showed there, however.
“Matters have taken an unfortunate turn,” Lord Sebastian finally said. “The scandal grows. I have let the truth of my wound be known, but as with Sir Edwin and the innkeeper, the truth sounds fictional compared with more commonplace explanations.”
“I have seen some allusions to it in the papers, so I am aware of this. It was good of you to come and warn me, however.”
“It is, I regret to say, on everyone’s lips.”
“It is not fair at all. However, life often is not. I will live this down as I have the other misfortunes in my life, and I am sure that you will as well.”
“You are too understanding.”
“If this were the normal sort of compromise, I doubt I would be. However, the most peculiar circumstances attend our situation, and I think that the normal rules do not apply.”
“The world does not care what you or I think, Miss Kelmsleigh.”
“I find that I do not care one way or the other what the world thinks anymore, so it is even.”
“That is very brave of you. And very foolish.”
Her moral satisfaction in doing the right thing passed in a snap. Irritation took its place. She had just let this man off the hook, and he now insulted her.
“You should be glad for my foolishness, and not scold, sir. Daphne and my mother hatched a plan to demand compensation from you. Had we not taken this turn, and had I not insisted that we speak alone, I think that you would be a good deal poorer by now.”
“Mrs. Joyes would have negotiated to no avail. I will make no payment.”
“Of course you won’t. You are not guilty. Why should you pay?”
Her emphasis made him smile sardonically. “Oh, I will pay, Miss Kelmsleigh. One way or another, there will be an accounting. However, laying out a sum of money to you and your family is the least promising alternative.”
“Then we are agreed. We will brave it out and pay what we must to the court of gossip, and that will be that. Come, let us return to my cousin and make that clear, and be done with all of this.”
She turned on her heel toward the house. A firm hold on her arm stopped her after the first step.
“You misunderstand, Miss Kelmsleigh.”
She looked down on that gloved hand that so easily, and discourteously, controlled her movement. The memory flashed of him doing this in the garden, and where that had led. She ventured a glance at his face and thought she detected his own fleeting memory in the way his eyes warmed for a second.
He let her go, but his own stance, now blocking the lane, made it clear they would not be returning to Daphne just yet.
“Five years ago, even two, I would have done it your way,” he said. “Or even your cousin’s way. Today I cannot afford to. My character has been insulted and my honor badly impugned.” He removed a paper from his pocket. “This is what I mean.”
She took the sheet and unfolded it. It bore a crude, ribald engraving. A woman who looked vaguely like herself sat on a bed in dishabille with one breast already bare, resisting the groping embrace of a man who looked a lot like Lord Sebastian. Outside a window one could see the sign of the Two Swords. Beneath it, vaguely visible in the moonlight, were half-buried kegs of gunpowder.
She kept staring at that bare breast. “This is shocking. I knew Mr. Trotter had put a picture on my sheet music, but it was not anything like this.”
“Mr. Trotter is the least of it. The print houses compete with each other, and worse than this can be bought for mere pennies.”
She handed him back the engraving. “Perhaps I should demand compensation after all, if I am being shown so scandalously.”
“That would solve nothing. It would only confirm the worst rumors, and be an admission of guilt on my part.”
“So, it is hopeless all around. Thank you for being honest with me. I think the only choice is for me to go live somewhere else.” She made a little laugh to hide her dismay. “Brazil, perhaps.”
She ducked around him and strode toward the house. She did not want to converse with him anymore. That engraving made her face heat whenever she pictured it. She did not begin to know what “worse than this” meant. She feared that her likeness was now doing the most obscene things on a thousand images.
Twigs crunched firmly behind her. “Miss Kelmsleigh, it was not my intention to come here today, impart bad news, and leave you distressed.”
“How could I not be distressed?” she snapped over her shoulder.
Again that gloved hand on her arm. “Stop. Listen to me. Allow me to spe
ak, please.”
His hold gave her no choice except to stop. She did not face him, however, but instead watched the house. She did not think she could see his face again without also seeing that engraved Lord Sebastian leering dangerously while he caressed her engraved nakedness.
“We are both compromised, Miss Kelmsleigh. We will both pay. The accounting will be much less, however, if we marry.”
For a breathless moment the world stilled. Even the dead leaves ceased fluttering along the lane. Her brain emptied, unable to accommodate what he had just said.
Then she understood him all too well. She turned to face him.
“You jest, of course.”
“Not at all. It is the only solution that I see. It is much better than paying you off like some milkmaid I got with child. As the daughter of a gentleman, it is your due. But for our unfortunate history, you would be expecting it, and so would your mother and cousin.”
“Our unfortunate history—you do have a politician’s way with words, sir—would make such a match comical. The print shops will be busy for years.”
“A wedding will make our association so commonplace that the scandal will blow over before the start of the season. It will continue the fiction begun with Sir Edwin at the Two Swords. Our indiscretion will be known as an amorous one, not cynical and base.”
“Very neat for you. You will be absolved of having coerced me, but I will still be a woman who granted her favors to a man before marriage. Worse, to a man who hounded her father to his grave. No, thank you. I prefer to go to Brazil.”
His hand sliced the air with impatience. “Please be serious. You are not going to go to Brazil. You will end up living here the rest of your life, afraid to show your face in town, barely living down the scorn of the local people. You will be unable to give music lessons because of your notoriety and you will be completely dependent on your cousin. This property will become a cloister in which you age and die.”
Ravishing in Red Page 9