‘No, I raced over here because that man, whoever he was, wasn’t the only party standing on the pavement, for all to see. Everyone knows that you’re carrying on an affair with Miss Weston-Burke’s governess, and today you decided to advertise that fact by defending her honour, if she has any, on the street. Are you mad?’
He was silent. He felt like he’d been hit in the stomach, and he was ill prepared to deflect her accusation. Not now. Not after what had just happened in Isabelle’s bedroom. ‘Actually, Henny, I’m not having an affair with her,’ he said tightly.
‘I don’t believe you.’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t particularly care.’
‘You should care. Your reputation is bad enough already. But it’s one thing keeping a mistress, and another thing entirely installing her in your house and setting her up as a young girl’s governess. It is…it is depraved. The three of you living together like some sort of…illegitimate family. Is that why you agreed to take Mary in? Why you resisted my writing to her aunt? So you could bring that woman—’
‘I will repeat myself just once. I am not having an affair with Miss Thomas. She’s been living here for two weeks and is employed as a governess. Sorry to disappoint your prurient mind, but there is nothing more to it than that.’
Henrietta crossed her arms. ‘What about Miss Lytton? She might not marry you now.’
‘I am relieved to hear it, as I had no plans to ask her.’
Henrietta looked more angry than distraught. ‘How could you do this to me, Will? I handpicked the girl. It is embarrassing for me. I told her mother that you were keenly interested in her—’
‘Then you lied. You should use better judgement next time. The girl is ghastly.’
Henrietta just glowered at him. There was nothing to say since, objectively, he was correct.
In the silence a discreet knock at the door announced the butler’s unwelcome return. ‘Yes?’ Will said unenthusiastically.
Bartholomew entered, looking even more harried. He cleared his throat. ‘It is your brother, my lord, and your sister-in-law. Shall I show them in?’
‘Why the hell not,’ Will muttered. It was turning into a party. He ignored Henrietta’s scowl, no doubt brought on by his oath, as James and Eleanor entered. Eleanor, pretty, petite and smiling tentatively, came in first. James followed just a few feet behind.
Uncanny, the way he could come back from the country unexpectedly early, and yet half his family was already in his drawing room, so impatient were they for his return. Will imagined James and Eleanor had come for the same reason as Henrietta. He stared hard at his brother, hoping to detect a clue in his expression. James caught his gaze for just a second before looking guiltily away. Damn.
‘You, uh, said you might be home now,’ James said, looking at Henrietta with dismay. They’d never got along well. ‘Thought we’d drop by for a chat.’
‘I’m sure you didn’t,’ Will replied. He crossed the room to pour himself a large brandy. ‘Drink?’ he asked the room at large.
James accepted his offer with a nod. ‘Actually, I was hoping to tell you to hie yourself back to the country before Henrietta got to you, but I obviously wasn’t quick enough. You’ve heard the news.’
Will handed him the glass. ‘What, that I’m having an affair with my ward’s governess? Don’t tell me you’re reading the scandal sheets now.’
James bristled. ‘I don’t care what you do—’
‘We haven’t come to pass judgement, Will,’ Eleanor said, frowning at her husband. ‘But we heard the rumour a few days ago and wanted to prepare you for it. Shall we sit?’
Will obliged, only because he liked Eleanor. ‘Fortunately, Henrietta has been filling me in on everything I’ve missed in my absence.’
‘You will behave appropriately, I hope?’ Eleanor asked, arranging herself next to her husband on the damask sofa.
Henrietta continued to hover, birdlike, behind them. She vigorously nodded her approval. ‘Yes, you must get rid of her.’
Eleanor frowned. ‘That’s not exactly what I—’
‘Getting rid of her won’t solve anything,’ James said.
Henrietta walked forwards. ‘It certainly will. Men are expected to have their peccadilloes. Give her some money, send her away and everyone will forget.’
‘I am not sending her away.’
Both James and Eleanor were silent for a heavy second. Carefully, Eleanor suggested, ‘Perhaps Henrietta left out a few details.’
Henrietta stared for a minute. ‘I’ve left nothing out.’
‘Then perhaps there’s something you don’t know, Hen,’ James said.
‘Heavens, there’s more?’
Eleanor began, but struggled with the delicate content. ‘Well, as you know, some rumours last a few days and then fade, and some…just grow bigger. It’s now being said that the girl…uh—’
‘Mary,’ Will supplied impatiently. ‘What’s being said?’
‘That she’s your illegitimate daughter, Will,’ James finished. ‘With Miss Thomas.’
It was laughable. Laughable and easy to refute if it ever came to that. ‘How could Mary be my daughter?’
‘You underestimate society’s collective imagination. As I heard it, you had an affair with Miss Thomas long ago,’ James explained, ‘and now, a dozen years later, she’s returned, claiming the child is yours. You’ve taken them both in.’
‘Ridiculous.’
‘I agree. I first heard the expanded version yesterday afternoon at the club. But when I tried to deny it, Charles Prestwick volunteered that he’d seen the three of you at the British Museum together. I can’t think of anything more out of character. What in God’s name were you doing at a museum with a child and a governess?’
‘She’s Arthur’s blasted daughter. I saw his wife when she was heavy with child. I saw the girl soon after she was born. I can tell you categorically she is not mine.’
‘I know she’s not yours, Will. You needn’t convince me. But Arthur wasn’t one of the shining lights of the London social scene. After his brief career at Eton and Oxford, he pretty much disappeared. His wife was even more obscure. You might claim that they’re Mary’s parents, but for most concerned, you could very well be making them up.’
It took a while for it to sink in. ‘Miss Thomas would have to have been fourteen when she conceived. Does that even sound plausible?’
‘Well, it’s not as if her age has been widely advertised. No one knows anything about her…except…do they look rather alike?’
‘No.’
‘Not at all? Didn’t note much resemblance myself, but I wasn’t looking for one, either. Prestwick, on the other hand, thought the girl was the image of the governess.’
She wasn’t. Not really. Isabelle was exceptionally beautiful, in her quirky way, and Mary was…just quirky. But then, well, there were certain similarities. ‘They’ve both got red hair. They’re tall. That’s about it.’
James’s expression said that was clearly enough.
‘What are you going to do?’ asked Eleanor, always practical.
‘Vanessa might still marry you,’ Henrietta supplied. ‘Her family’s greedy enough. I suggest you ask her quickly, and it might just cover up this scandal.’
Will sighed. ‘No, Henny, I’ll go on as normal. I’ve done nothing wrong. Miss Thomas is not my mistress and Mary’s not my child.’
Eleanor shrugged. ‘Yes, and I’m sure you’ll survive. But if you don’t care about your own reputation, you must care about the girl’s future. Everyone will think she’s your natural child. It will ruin her prospects.’
Will knew that was probably true. Eventually the rumour would fade, but she would always be followed by the shadow of doubt.
‘Who could have started these rumours?’ Henrietta demanded.
Will was quiet for a moment. Sebastian Cowes came immediately to mind, but he didn’t think it was him. He suspected the rumour originated with someone far more treacherous. ‘Vanes
sa Lytton or her mother, perhaps.’
‘Impossible. Why should they have even known anything about the governess?’ Henrietta asked.
‘It doesn’t matter why, although the fact that you invited them to come to my house on my behalf might have something to do with it. They’re spiteful and jealous, and Miss Thomas is very pretty. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if they were behind this.’
‘What will you do?’ Eleanor asked again.
‘As I said before, I’ll just repeat the truth. Mary is not my child, and Miss Thomas is not my mistress.’
‘She’s your betrothed, then, is she?’ James asked sarcastically.
‘No, of course not,’ Will answered sharply.
‘You can’t pretend you didn’t plan for her to be your mistress all along.’
Will didn’t answer. He couldn’t deny his brother’s words, and he didn’t have a solution. He wouldn’t care about the rumour if others weren’t involved, but…
What would he do? Go to the country, maybe, and wait for the scandal to subside. He’d take Isabelle with him, of course. He wouldn’t let her go.
Luckily, Henrietta stepped into the silence before he had to think of something to say. ‘What was that?’ she asked, staring hard at the door. ‘I heard something.’
Chapter Nineteen
Isabelle backed away from the drawing room when she heard the woman’s shrill question, muffled only slightly by the closed door. Until then, she’d been frozen, wishing she could be in the room to defend herself. Will hadn’t done much of a job of it, and his words still raged in her mind:
‘…Miss Thomas is not my mistress.’
‘She’s your betrothed, then, is she?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘You can’t pretend you didn’t plan for her to be your mistress all along.’
And then he’d said nothing. His words made her angry, but the ensuing silence made her livid. He wouldn’t even try to deny it, and his actions in her bedroom that afternoon—and on so many other occasions—only supported the accusation. She felt ten times a fool. She’d truly thought he was trying to help her, but he was little better than Mr Cowes. At least Cowes was honest in his intentions.
She gripped her leather bag tighter in her hand and started walking briskly to the staircase. She’d packed quickly, stuffing in what clothes she’d need for the next few days and leaving the rest. She had money, too, both the money she’d earned and the money that was, without warning, to be her unscrupulous inheritance, at least until someone else came along to take it away from her. She’d left enough on her dresser to reimburse Will, though, so he would have no reason to seek her out. She still refused to be a thief.
She’d descended only a few steps when she heard the drawing-room door open behind her.
‘You’re not leaving.’
Will’s words hit her in the back, stealing her breath and forcing her to stop. She turned slowly. He stood at the top of the staircase, looking annoyed; his brother and two ladies stared at her curiously from a few paces behind him. How humiliating.
Running would do no good, since he would catch her easily. She’d probably just trip on the steps and make herself look even more foolish. Isabelle raised her chin, but since she stood at a disadvantage, a quarter of the way down the staircase, the gesture was of little significance.
She wanted to cry, but she tried to sound strong. ‘I am.’
He started walking towards her. ‘Where are you going, then?’
She said nothing, but stood her ground. Just six steps separated them.
One woman began to speak. ‘She could have started this scandal, William.’
‘Do be quiet, Henrietta,’ he said, not bothering to look at her. ‘Isabelle?’ He was in front of her now, his voice low. ‘Don’t cry.’
‘I’m not.’ She wasn’t, either, but denying it made the urge to do so even greater. She bit her lip, trying very hard.
‘I hope you didn’t hear anything that would have upset you.’
‘Perhaps we should go.’ The pretty brown-haired lady spoke now, sounding more sympathetic than Cousin Henrietta.
‘That’s a very good idea,’ Will replied, still looking at Isabelle.
‘I don’t think we should go,’ said Henrietta.
‘Ignore her.’ Will spoke quietly enough for only Isabelle to hear. ‘And come talk to me. I won’t let you leave.’ He took her hand and tugged gently. ‘My study. We’ll be alone.’
She glanced uncertainly up the staircase. His brother and the brown-haired lady—presumably his wife—looked considerately away, although his cousin was less tactful. She withdrew her hand, but answered, ‘Very well.’
‘An eventful day,’ Will said as he closed the door behind them. ‘I’m sorry about Henrietta. I did warn you.’
‘She thinks I’m your mistress,’ she said quietly, facing one of the tall windows that lined the room. It was still only afternoon, but she felt like so much time had passed since she’d gone out that morning.
‘You know what we were talking about, then.’
She nodded.
‘Was that the first you heard of these rumours?’
Should she tell him that she’d heard while looking for a new position? Why not, now that they were being honest. ‘Like you, I learned today. I went to an interview for another position this morning. The woman blanched when she saw I worked for you. I meant to tell you—’
‘You were distracted by other events.’
She turned to face him. ‘Mr Cowes implied that he’d heard it, too. I had worried that he would say something to you.’ She fell silent. ‘He might have started the rumour.’
His lack of surprise suggested he’d already considered this possibility. ‘I doubt it—how would he hope to benefit?’
‘Maybe he thought the rumour would force you to make me leave.’
He shook his head, walking closer. ‘I won’t let you leave.’
She looked away. His words thrilled her, and she wished they didn’t. ‘If he’s responsible, I’m very sorry.’
‘Don’t be sorry.’
‘I have to be, because your reputation has suffered. Mary’s, too, and it’s quite possible it’s entirely my fault.’
‘I don’t care what anyone thinks, Isabelle. Ignore my cousin. She’s just annoyed because she wanted me to marry Miss Lytton and this has ruined her plans.’
If one thing good came out of it…‘You have to marry someone.’
‘Not her. In my opinion, the Lyttons are most likely behind this talk. I didn’t part on good terms with them, and I’d expect them to do something like invent pernicious gossip. It’s a retaliation more suited to women than men, you must admit.’
He had a point, but the fact remained that even if the Lyttons had concocted the rumour, they wouldn’t have done so if not for her presence in his house.
‘But you must marry someone else, then. Eventually. You’ve told me so more than once.’
He didn’t deny it, didn’t say anything. The room was silent except for the tick of the clock. She couldn’t bear it. It hurt too much to think about him marrying anyone, which could only mean she’d stupidly allowed herself to love him.
She knew then that, no matter how difficult it would be, she couldn’t stay.
‘I’ll leave. That will be for the best.’
‘The best for whom?’ he asked angrily. ‘You have nowhere to go. You won’t find another position. You’ve no money, no family—’
‘The best for both of us. And I can find somewhere.’
‘How? Dr Collins?’
She closed her eyes briefly, then spoke slowly. ‘I did not invite him to visit, Will, nor did I encourage his attentions in any way. I merely meant that I have a bit of money now. I…I don’t quite understand it, but—’
He snorted. ‘Unless it’s as false as everything else your father touched.’
That hurt, but she went on. ‘Obviously my presence here has caused problems.’
&nbs
p; ‘Imagined problems, Isabelle, conjured up by jealous women.’
‘Not entirely imagined.’
He flushed at the reminder of how close they’d come, less than an hour earlier, to making the rumour true. ‘Very well then. Where will you live?’
‘I’ve enough money to take rooms again. That would suit me well enough for the present.’
‘I’m not letting you set off blindly, having made no arrangements—’
‘Do you think I want to leave like this? I haven’t a choice, though.’
‘You’ve plenty of choices. Choose to stay.’
‘I can’t stay! Do you think I want to be thought of as your mistress? Should I remain here to cast further doubt on Mary’s parentage?’
‘Isabelle—’
She was too upset to stop. ‘And do you propose to find your suitable wife with me still living in this house? Your mother might not have minded that your father married her while having designs on another woman, but I doubt most will be so accommodating.’
‘Perhaps he should have married the other woman to begin with.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean if I’m going to marry anyone, then I’ll marry you.’
Will hadn’t planned on those words coming out. He hadn’t even been thinking them. They came from nowhere, and he hoped he didn’t look as shocked as Isabelle did. The colour had drained from her face, except for a bright spot on each cheek.
‘How can you say that?’ she asked slowly, angrily.
He paused for several seconds before answering. Having said it, he didn’t feel too bad. He could think of a dozen reasons not to marry her, but actually…
There was no one he’d rather marry, and he very much doubted there ever would be. So why not?
‘I should have asked.’
‘Asked what?’
‘Will you marry me, Isabelle?’
Her lips thinned and her face darkened. She turned on her heel and walked quickly to the door. It wasn’t the response he’d expected.
The Earl and the Governess Page 20