Chapter 15

fifteen

A NGELINE HAD REGRETTED her words the moment Royston had disappeared into the night.

She rolled in the bed, but sleep wouldn't touch her with a barge pole.

Royston had stolen something from her mother, and who knew what Lord Havisham would do to her mama now. But Angeline had hurt Royston. Badly.

On the other hand, Mama was indeed a blackmailer, and of course Lord Havisham wanted the blackmail to stop, but Royston should have talked to her first. And he was right about her. She was her mother's accomplice. Worse, she benefitted from Mama's enterprise. In fact, she owed her education to Mama's money, which meant dirty money.

That was enough to keep her awake at night on any given day.

And she'd thought that being scorned for her scar was humiliating? A man finally showed interested in her, accepting her for who she was, and he'd learnt the truth about her family before she had the opportunity to tell him.

He'd told her the truth. He could have kept kissing her and pretended not to have a clue about Mama's crimes while taking advantage of her. Instead, he'd confessed.

Still, she'd be lying if she said his behaviour didn't hurt. He'd used her only to get those stupid documents. Maybe he didn't even like her. Although he'd sounded so sincere when he'd told her he liked her.

Her head and heart were going to break from the thoughts and emotions going through her.

"What's going on?" Carrying a lit oil lamp, Mama entered Angeline's bedroom.

"What? How?" Angeline bolted upright.

"You keep tossing and turning. You woke me up." She put the lamp on the nightstand. "Are you sick? Should I call the physician?"

"No. I'm all right."

"Tosh." Mama put a hand on Angeline's forehead. "You're hot and shivering. What is it?"

The combination of sadness, anger, and confusion burst out in the form of a sob. After the first sob came out, she couldn't stop a second one.

"Darling." Mama hugged her and caressed her head. "What is it? You can tell me anything." She didn't prompt Angeline further but held her and stroked her head.

"It's Royston."

"What did he do?" Mama's tone turned icy and dangerous. "Did he hurt you?"

"No. Not in the way you think." She wiped her face and took a deep breath. Staying silent could be potentially dangerous. She didn't know what Lord Havisham would do now. Mama needed to know the truth to protect herself from the earl. "While he was in your study, he took Lord Havisham's documents from your cabinet."

"What?" Mama sounded breathless.

"Royston came here tonight." Angeline gazed up at her mother, waiting for her to be shocked.

Mama looked more furious than shocked. "Why did he come here?"

"We agreed to meet at midnight, but anyway, Royston told me what he'd done and then left. Lord Havisham has his incriminating documents now."

"That sneaky, traitorous bastard." Mama clenched her fist.

Angeline didn't know if Mama was talking about Lord Havisham or Royston.

"I'm sorry. I'm confused. I don't know if he used our friendship to get the documents or not."

Mama's expression softened. She hugged Angeline again. "Sweetheart, I told you. You can't trust men. They use you and then discard you as if you were nothing. Don't let him hurt you. Don't give him that power. And you have nothing to be sorry for. You have a good heart and trust everyone. Men take advantage of that. It happened to me many times before I hardened myself to their cruelty."

Was Mama right? Was Royston nothing but a scoundrel? But he'd been so kind to her. His kisses had been so gentle, his words so true. A lone whisper from her heart told her Royston cared about her, but her brain screamed he'd only used her for a seat in Parliament.

"What about the stolen documents?" she asked.

Mama kissed her forehead. "Do not worry about that. Lord Havisham isn't my only source of income. I have others."

No, that wasn't what Angeline meant. "He could go to the police."

"And say what? That he's an adulterer who lies to his wife? Lady Havisham is a duke's daughter. Other women might turn a blind eye to their husbands' escapades. Not her. She'd ruin him."

"He could retaliate, though, now that you can't blackmail him anymore. He could hurt you."

Mama flashed a sad smile. "Well, that wouldn't be the first time a man had tried to hurt me. I have survived. I can do it again. I doubt he'll do anything. Yes, I don't have the photographs, the letters, and the bills anymore, but if I go to his wife and have a heart-to-heart conversation with her about her husband, she will believe me. I know intimate things about him only a lover can know. Or I can simply spread a rumour about him. Either way, he's aware I can harm his reputation badly if I want to. He isn't stupid. He won't provoke me."

"I hope you're right." She shivered, and Mama covered her with the quilt.

"That awful baron is another matter though. What do you want me to do? Shall I have a word with him? I can easily find a way to make him pay."

"Oh no, please." She shivered again at the thought of Mama using Royston to test her drugs. "Leave him alone. He saved my life. I can't forget that."

"Who cares? He hurt you, and no one hurts my beautiful daughter without consequences."

"Yes, but I don't want revenge. I want to move on."

She'd take her time to think about what had happened and carry on with her lonely life. Royston had been a lovely dream, but nothing more.

Royston's mood hadn't improved from the night of his confrontation with Angeline three days ago.

If he could write a proper letter to her and explain how he felt, he would, but his writing skills were worse than his speech. He'd changed his mind about what to tell her, how to tell her, and when to tell her a dozen times in the past few days.

He wanted to make her understand how important a seat in the House of Lords was, but at the same time, he couldn't ignore the fact she'd been aware of her mother's crimes and maybe even her accomplice.

Or maybe Angeline was right. He couldn't leave his past behind.

The worst part of the situation was that he couldn't retire to his house to think and stay alone. He had to mingle with London's society and show himself around since he was going to be a member of the House of Lords soon. Havisham claimed that showing oneself in society was vital to having the seat approved, especially since Royston didn't come from the nobility.

So here he was in Lord Fountaine's house for yet another sophisticated event where he didn't belong. With the Season in full swing, the society seemed to do nothing but dance, drink, and eat. Fountaine's grand ballroom sparkled with one year's worth of oil and gas. The chandeliers amplified the glow, bothering his eyes. And the banquet table held enough food to feed a rookery for a month.

He stood in a corner as the young debutantes twirled around in their pretty gowns, smiling. He lowered his gaze and focused on the pattern of the wooden floorboards.

When his mood was as low and troubled as it was now, his bad memories rushed out of the ugly dark corner of his mind where he stashed them. The last thing he needed was an anxiety attack.

A hint of nausea burned the back of his throat. He wished Angeline were here to help him through the darkness. One smile from her, and he'd calm. For someone who was supposed to mingle, he was spending too much time on his own.

He took a tour of the room and scowled when he spotted the infamous North, drinking and laughing with a debutante. Just because Royston had recently had a strained conversation with Angeline, it didn't mean he'd forgotten what North had done to her.

Judging by how North returned the scowl, he hadn't forgotten either. But Royston would rather stare into North's angry face than think about the brothel and his mother or the fact he hadn't recovered the list of fallen women.

Havisham broke the moment, stopping next to him. "I have news. We must talk."

"About what?"

If Havisham answered, Royston didn't hear it; his attention was focused on the set of double doors. Angeline and her mother entered the ballroom, smiling at everyone as the master of ceremonies announced them. Angeline greeted the hosts with a graceful curtsy in a froth of pink silk. When she turned in his direction, their gazes locked. The air between them was charged with energy.

Hot turmoil boiled in his chest. Meeting her was bound to happen sooner or later, but he wasn't ready for the deep unrest her presence caused him. He should talk to her again. Perhaps she would listen.

Her smile vanished, and she averted her gaze.

"For heaven's sake," Havisham muttered. "What is Mrs. Haywood doing here? Will I ever get rid of that woman?"

"You didn't confront her? She must have realised your documents are missing."

Royston wasn't going to inform the earl of his conversation with Angeline. Surely, she'd told her mother.

"What am I supposed to tell her?" Havisham said. "Don't underestimate her. She's quick-witted and resourceful. I got the documents, and she isn't going to extort another penny from me, but I don't want to provoke her further. I'm not that stupid."

Mrs. Haywood, Angeline, Miss Taylor, and Lady Redvers crossed the room towards them. Royston stiffened. He wasn't sure he had the energy to pretend everything was all right. To make things worse, even North joined the happy group.

Royston felt like prey surrounded by predators.

After a quick round of bows, fake, happy greetings, and curtsies, Royston couldn't stand still. Angeline was so close that if he stretched out his fingers he'd touch her.

"What a delight to see you here, Lord Wharton," Mrs. Haywood said. "I heard you didn't leave your house for days. I was worried you were sick." She added three ‘s' to sick.

He gave her a quick bow of his head. "I'm perfectly well, thank you, madam."

"You remember my daughter Georgiana, don't you, Lord Wharton?" Lady Redvers asked.

Bloody hell. That was likely the fifteenth time he'd been asked that question. Lady Redvers was on the path to beating a record in introductions.

"I do, my lady." He bowed his head again. His neck muscles would grow stiff by the end of the night.

"Georgiana loves dancing," Lady Redvers said. "Don't you, darling? And you, Wharton, haven't danced with her yet, despite what you promised."

Not this again. He started to think Lady Redvers's memory didn't work. "I didn't promise to dance, actually."

Miss Taylor lowered her gaze. "Mother."

Angeline shifted her weight.

"I don't remember you and Lord Wharton dancing together." Lady Redvers frowned.

"My lady." North shot a glare at Royston. "You won't remember having ever seen Lord Wharton dancing at all. There's a reason Lord Wharton never dances."

Royston whipped his head towards North. "What do you mean?"

Angeline whispered something he didn't catch. Havisham coughed politely in his fist.

Mr. North sipped his champagne, seemingly in no hurry to answer. "I happen to know?—"

"North, perhaps this conversation isn't apt for tonight," Havisham said, giving North a piercing glare.

North lifted a finger as he took another sip. "Forgive me, my lord. You're absolutely right, but Lady Redvers needs to hear the truth. Rumour has it that Lord Wharton's mother was tortured by a man who forced her to dance until exhaustion. The poor child was so shocked that he hated dancing from that moment. Obviously, he remains troubled to this day."

Lady Redvers gasped. Mrs. Haywood's eyes widened. Miss Taylor opened her mouth.

Angeline blinked, her eyes shining with sorrow. "Is it true?"

Royston didn't have the courage to answer. Fear and sorrow prevented him from saying anything. Earlier, he'd wished for Angeline's presence. But now he regretted his wish. She shouldn't hear about his past. Not like that.

"Are you accusing me of lying, Miss Haywood?" North's voice rose.

"You can't talk to Miss Haywood with that tone, North," Royston said.

The man bared his teeth. "I don't accept reprimands from a man whose mind is definitely troubled."

"So that's the reason why the infamous Baron Wharton doesn't dance." Lady Redvers fanned herself. "I don't understand, though. Why wouldn't you dance, Wharton? Only because of something that happened many years ago."

"A man who can't overcome his fears isn't worthy of holding a title," North chimed in. "The baron isn't of sound mind, I think."

"But anyone who witnesses the death of a loved one would be troubled," Angeline said.

North leant forwards. "That doesn't change the fact the baron is mad. He's unstable. Deranged. Troubled. Pick your definition."

Enough. Royston didn't have to explain himself to these people.

He turned and strode towards the set of double doors only to bump into a maid carrying a tray loaded with champagnes flutes. Tottering on her feet, she cried out as the flutes smashed on the floor in a splash of champagne and bubbles.

He went to steady her, but his foot slipped on the wet floor, and he ended up shoving her quite hard. The maid fell over backwards with a thud and a groan of pain.

"Shit. I'm sorry." He didn't have time to help her up before a footman intervened, shooting a reproachful glare at him.

"I didn't shove her on purpose," Royston said.

The footman arched his brow but didn't say anything.

The room had gone suddenly quiet. Even the music had stopped.

Sod it. Crunching the pieces of glasses under his shoes, he marched out among whispers, mutters, and laughter.

"Royston, wait," Angeline said behind him, but he didn't stop.