Chapter 6

“Well, you’ve gone and made everyone proud of you now, haven’t you?” Eleanor’s words echoed around the drawing room as she pushed her spectacles further up her nose and flung her rounded body down onto the nearest settee. Her hand rested on her stomach, quivering a little.

“Good morning to you too, sister,” Philip said drily as he and Aaron stepped into the room. Philip was still buttoning up his waistcoat, hiding all signs of his boxing though of course, Eleanor knew of the habit. She had not spoken of it to anyone, even to her friends, at his request.

“Are you proud of yourself?” she said in challenge, her voice surprisingly high pitched and ringing around the room.

Philip glanced back at Aaron, who winced a little at the sharp sounds.

“Drink?” Philip suggested.

“Coffee.” Aaron agreed with a nod.

Philip called for the maid, and coffee was arranged. Aaron sat down calmly in the room as Eleanor continued to seethe, her nostrils flaring, her gaze frenetic, unable to settle on anything around the room.

Philip refused to say anymore though until the coffee had arrived. He pulled the crumpled-up scandal sheet out of his pocket and read it again.

When the coffee did eventually arrive, he dropped the crumpled page on the table and snatched up his coffee cup. Aaron coolly picked up the scandal sheet as they waited for the door to close behind the maid.

The moment the door was shut, it was like the stopper had been taken off a champagne bottle.

“What the bloody hell did you think you were doing, Philip?” Eleanor raged, leaning forward.

“Careful, Eleanor,” Philip pleaded. “I doubt becoming this irate is good for your child.”

“I’ll decide what is right for my child.” She placed her hands protectively over her swollen stomach. “Based on your behavior last night, you can no longer tell me what to do in any regard. What a fine example my elder brother has set for me! Scandal!” She thrust a finger at the paper in Aaron’s clutches.

“You speak as if you haven’t had your own fair share of scandal,” Philip reminded her.

Aaron frowned a little more but said nothing. Eleanor looked angrier than ever, her jaw falling slack, her eyes narrowing to slits.

“Philip, you have compromised one of my dearest friends.” The tone broke him.

He turned away, the resilience he’d felt mere seconds before crumpling as that paper had done. He looked at Aaron, waiting to hear his thoughts.

“You don’t want to hear my thoughts,” Aaron said in a low tone, clearly reading Philip’s expression. “You know what I’d do at once.”

Philip grunted in acknowledgement.

Aaron had had his own fair share of difficulty and heartbreak in his life, but something Aaron always focused on was doing the right thing. A soldier, through and through, he toed the line and followed the rules.

Philip doubted Aaron would have kissed a woman out of wedlock in the first place, but to have been discovered doing so, Aaron would have undoubtedly gone to the lady’s house in question this morning and proposed.

Marry Grace? Can I?

An image of Grace walking down the aisle toward him filled his mind. She was wearing another one of those ridiculous dresses with the high collars and baggy material that hid everything about her. Something about the image infuriated him, he couldn’t stand the thought, but another thought curdled his gut even more.

I can’t do this to her.

“Have you seen her this morning?” Philip asked, turning back to face his sister.

“Not yet.” Eleanor huffed and sat back in her seat, offering Aaron a small smile as he passed her a coffee cup. That smile didn’t last. “After reading the scandal sheet, I resolved to come here at once. If I had known Celia’s dare would lead to this…”

“Celia’s dares tend to have a habit of leading to trouble for you all, don’t they?” Philip muttered darkly. He chose to ignore the glower his sister sent his way.

“That is beside the point,” she continued on with vigor. “This has happened now, and I would jolly well like to know what you’re going to do to help my friend. I see you haven’t denied it, have you? You did indeed kiss Grace.”

Philip knocked some of the coffee down his throat. It was too hot, and he burned himself. He slammed the cup back down on the table and turned away, grimacing.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Eleanor muttered, shaking her head. “Honestly, you of all people, Philip. You never are improper, ever! What possessed you to go and be improper with Grace of all people?”

“She is hardly the pillar of propriety, is she?” Philip asked, wheeling around to face his sister again.

“She has never kissed anyone before. I can tell you that much,” Eleanor protested. “But you, Philip. You!”

He couldn’t answer her anymore. Unable to sit as the others had done, he marched up and down his drawing room. He folded his arms but found himself too restrained then he thrust a hand into his dark hair and pulled on the tendrils instead.

“You’ll have to do something, Phil,” Aaron said after a minute of silent pacing. Philip was glad of his friend’s presence. It was calming in these minutes of turmoil. Philip nodded briefly at him.

“I cannot believe it.” Eleanor shook her head vigorously. “I must see her. I shall see her later today.” She was clearly resolved on the matter before her eyes flashed with anger, and she looked at Philip again. “The scandal, Philip. What have you done to her?”

Philip felt a rage burning within him. It was not he who had done this to Grace. She did it to herself by agreeing to go through with Celia’s ridiculous dare in the first place. Even though he insisted on this, a voice hidden deep within the folds of the back of his mind spoke up.

I still kissed her, didn’t I? I didn’t have to do that.

“Must I remind you again of what the scandal sheets said about you once upon a time, Eleanor?” Philip reminded her. “It’s a wonder you can sit yourself on any pedestal to preach at me now.”

“That’s different!” She shakily got to her feet, her hand trembling around her coffee cup with so much rage that Aaron snatched it from her before it could go tumbling to the ground. “I am in love with Dorian as he is with me. And we’re married now anyway, so it hardly matters.”

“Pff.” Philip waved off this fact with an errant flick of his hand. There was much he’d like to say about Dorian and that man’s actions. He might have begrudgingly accepted Dorian, even tried to like him, but he was hardly enamored with his sister’s choice of husband.

“At least he did the right thing,” Eleanor added, lifting her chin an inch higher. “He’s much more honorable than you, it seems.”

Philip jerked his head to look at his sister. It was as if a bucket of ice had been thrown over him, and the dregs had bled into his veins. Behind her spectacles, her eyes were watery. He saw for the first time just how much he had let her down, disappointed her.

“I shall leave you.” Aaron cleared his throat, excusing himself as he stood.

“Aaron, you don’t have to —”

“It’s best.” Aaron cut him off, holding a stilling hand. “I’ll still see you for the opera tomorrow night, as we agreed, but right now…” He cast a wary glance toward Eleanor. “It’s time for you to talk.” He nodded his head in parting and left the room.

As the door closed behind him, Eleanor lifted her glasses and wiped her eyes, stopping the tears before they could fall.

“Grace is one of the best souls I know in this world.” Her voice shook. “She has the best of hearts. She has had enough misery in her life, too; she doesn’t need anymore because of you.”

Philip flinched at this news.

What misery has Grace had in her life?

“She doesn’t deserve this,” Eleanor murmured. “Dear God, I can imagine her mother now. I can see just what she’ll say.”

Judging Eleanor was speaking more to herself than to him at this point, he ignored these words. He returned to the table and poured himself a fresh coffee, knowing that if he was going to get through the rest of this morning, he would need it.

“Eleanor, you never had any need to come and yell at me this morning.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that Aaron may have only thrust that scandal sheet into my hand minutes ago, but my mind was made up from the moment he did.”

“Oh? Is that so?” She stilled. “What will you do then?”

“Sister, don’t you know me at all?”

* * *

“What on God’s fine earth did you think you were doing!?” The shriek pierced the air so much that two maids scurried past the door of the parlor, diving for cover through the nearest servants’ doorway.

Grace stared after them with pure jealousy, wishing that she could hide from her mother’s outrage too.

“Mama, please.” Grace turned to look at her mother in the parlor, doing her best to remain calm. “It’s not how it reads. Not at all.” Despite her words, her hands shook around the scandal sheet in her grasp.

She looked down at it again. When it had arrived at their breakfast table only a quarter of an hour ago, Grace and Tabitha had been calmly talking about the ball the night before.

The first thing they had known of the scandal was Althea opening up the delivered sheet and shrieking as if a rat had run across her toes.

“You think not?” Althea snapped as poor Tabitha closed the parlor door hastily, clearly eager to keep the staff in the dark as much as possible.

Shutting the stable door after the horse had bolted if you ask me.

Grace looked at Tabitha with the thought, but she appreciated the effort all the same.

Althea marched toward Grace, her taller height towering over Grace for a moment. She snatched the paper out of Grace’s hand.

“You are ruined. Completely and utterly ruined, Grace. You might as well have lifted your skirts for the Duke of Berkley last night and become the harlot the whole of London now believes you to be.”

“Mama!” Grace complained.

“Aunt!” Tabitha exclaimed at the same time. She affected a perfect look of horror, a hand clasped over her mouth. Grace briefly wondered how Tabitha could look elegant and poised even in a mad moment like this, but she brushed it from her mind fast.

“I am not a harlot,” Grace said, cutting across her mother before Althea could rampage even more. “How could you even think that?”

“London will think it.” Althea waved the scandal sheet in Grace’s face, close to striking her on the nose with the sheer animosity of her movements. “Everyone in the ton will be reading it this morning. They’ll be laughing at us. All of us.”

“All of us?” Tabitha whispered in horror, moving her hand to her chest.

“Yes, all of us.” Althea looked between the two of them. “I am sorry, Tabitha, but it’s true. You are now tainted by association to my daughter. She has ruined us all.” She broke off and turned to face Grace. “You have ruined us!”

“Mama, would you please calm down, I beseech you,” Grace snapped. “There have been numerous scandals in the past that have blown over with the next coming breeze.”

“And you think they’re wholly forgotten, do you?” Althea marched toward Grace and held the paper toward her again, thrusting it into Grace’s grasp. “Read it.”

“I have already read it.”

“Then read it again then perhaps you will realize the true horror of this situation.” Althea stepped away, throwing her hands in the air wildly. She seemed to have forgotten all sense of propriety at all.

It had not escaped Grace’s notice that in Althea’s anger at her, she would frequently forget that her outrage could be overheard. She had made such a mistake at the ball the night before, and now, she seemed to have no fear of being overheard by the staff, just so long as she belittled Grace enough.

How I wish I could speak to father about this.

Grace looked longingly at the door, but he hadn’t been seen out of bed that morning. Sometimes, he wouldn’t rise at all.

“Perhaps Grace is right.” Tabitha moved toward her and took up Grace’s hand, protectively. “Perhaps this storm will blow over. The next scandal will come, and people will forget this one.”

“You are too benevolent of heart, dearest Tabitha.” Althea flashed a doting look at Tabitha that made Grace want to wretch. She could never remember being called ‘dearest’ in her life by her own mother. “You do not see the tragedy unfurling before us.”

Althea jerked her gaze to look at Grace. “Do you think a man like the Duke of Berkley will marry you to end this scandal?”

“Marriage!?” Grace spluttered.

“That is what happens when scandal occurs and people are seen in one another’s arms, rutting together like common animals —”

“Mother!” Grace practically shrieked to be heard. “That is not what we were doing.”

“I don’t want to hear what you were doing.” Althea cut across her, holding both hands in the air to stem the flow of words. “Men marry the women they have compromised, unless… unless they do not have to. I have seen the Duke of Berkley enough to know that he does not have to marry you. Why would he?”

Her eyes looked down and up Grace again, as if she was judging Grace at her debut all over again. “Why would he marry you, Grace? What sort of wife would you make for him?”

Grace felt as if she had been kicked in the gut by her mother. She took a step back, releasing Tabitha’s hand. Tabitha looked so shocked by the words that she had actually turned the pale color of sour milk.

Tears prickled the backs of Grace’s eyes as she considered how right her mother was.

The Duke of Berkley held a very high position. He could marry any woman of the ton that he wished to. Why would he possibly deign to marry the woman he had kissed one night because of a foolish dare?

All at once, she saw again the way the Duke had turned away from her in that garden after Violet’s reappearance. It was as if the kiss hadn’t happened at all, and the way he had threaded his arm around her waist hadn’t happened. He was back to being the aloof and proper elder brother of Eleanor, nothing more.

I had no idea he was capable of such passion. He kept it well hidden.

She could see all too easily how right her mother was. He would retreat, keep such a side hidden again until the scandal blew over from his side.

He owes me nothing.

“You know I am right,” Althea called to her again. Clearly, her mother was eager to continue this argument, but Grace had had enough. As far as she was concerned, her mother had won.

She planted her hands on the windowsill, turning to stare out through the glass and into the street beyond their townhouse.

“Grace, you have ruined us. You have ruined us all. Think what you have done to poor Tabitha’s chance of marriage now.”

The first tear spilled out of her eye. Grace hastily wiped it away, feeling the burn of humiliation and gut-wrenching disappointment.

It was just supposed to be one kiss, a momentary escape from the world. Nothing more.

Through her blurry vision, she saw a horse pull up outside of the house. A tall figure jumped down with athletic ease, throwing the reins of the horse to a passing lad. The man offered a coin for the trouble of looking after the horse, and the boy nodded eagerly.

It can’t be.

Then the man turned, taking off his top hat and facing their townhouse.

Grace’s stomach lurched.

“It can’t be,” she murmured though the words were lost in the room for Althea was shouting again, repeating herself numerous times.

“She’s harlotted herself. Made herself into nothing more than a promiscuous woman of the ton.”

“Aunt, please —” Tabitha pleaded.

“Dearest Tabitha, you do not know how you will suffer now because of what my daughter has done.”

In an instant, the Duke of Berkley was at the door of the house. Grace pressed her face as close to the glass as she could possibly get it, the better to keep the Duke in view.

Why is he here?

He was let inside by the butler.

Grace turned, perching against the windowsill as she watched her mother rant and rage with Tabitha beside her, trying to keep her calm.

“We are ruined. All of us, forever!” Althea wailed.

“Aunt.” Tabitha had hold of her hand. “Breathe a little, I beg you.”

There was the lightest of knocks at the door.

“Not now,” Althea snapped at the person knocking.

Yet the door opened of its own accord anyway. The butler skulked back in the doorway, for he was not the one to open it.

In front of him, his hand on the door handle, was the Duke of Berkley.

Those burnished eyes shot to Grace first. She swallowed around the lump in her throat, doing her best to keep her tears at bay.

“Good morning,” he said, turning to face the stunned gazes of Althea and Tabitha. “I’d like to speak with the Marquess of Garton.”