“I wish it could be another way,” Lady Margaret said, wringing her hands, “but I fear this is the only way to avoid scandal. Once more, I offer you a way out, Your Grace. A chance to save your family name by allying yourself with my family.”
“I had chosen to do just that. I was to marry your niece,” Horatio muttered scornfully.
“A niece who has cast you aside in favor of the Viscount Hemsworth,” Lady Margaret said, plaintively.
Horatio looked at her, face going still. “You lie,” he whispered.
Matthew Ainsworth stepped forward, raising his hands placatingly. “Remember that you speak to a lady and moderate yourself…” he started, “control your baser urges.”
Horatio realized that Ainsworth was afraid that violence was about to ensue. He gripped the walking cane in both hands, arms tight with tension. He was glowering at Lady Margaret and she shrank back from that stare.
“I have proof!” she cried, “letters written by my wretched niece to Viscount Hemsworth, professing her undying love. And replies too.”
“It is true, Your Grace, Lord Hemsworth was courting Juliet from before she attended your masked ball,” Frances put in.
“I have friends at court,” Ainsworth said, “I can promise you that you and your new wife will find a favorable reception with the Regent. Your history will be forgotten. I am prepared to put past enmities aside and act as a man of God alone. Let me help you, Horatio.”
There was an inevitability to it all…
This is where it had all started. An accident and a scandal with the only solution being a marriage of convenience.
Horatio had cared only for his family name and its restoration. He had been prepared to do anything to protect it, including joining his family to the Godwins. At least that would have resulted in a union with Juliet, a woman he was coming to love.
But it had never been in the plan of the Godwins. And now they would get their way at last. He did not believe that Juliet was part of that plot. If she had been, then there would be no reason for her to be sent away.
The anger left him like water from a holed bucket. In its place came weariness. He turned away, using the cane to stagger to a chair and sitting down with a sigh. The medicine's effects hadn't lasted very long this time, perhaps Jackton had reduced the dose too soon. He would have to speak to him.
“Very well. Let me think on it for a while. Leave me. All of you.”
Lady Margaret gathered her daughter and ushered her from the room. Matthew Ainsworth went last.
“Wait a moment, Matthew,” Horatio murmured with a languid wave of the hand, rooting the man to his spot. “Jane wrote to me not long ago to tell me of her widowhood. She told me that you hated me.Why?”
Matthew Ainsworth clasped his hands behind his back and looked Horatio firmly in the eye.
“…During our school days, I discovered that your father, William Templeton, had an affair with my mother. It had been going on for some time. Years in fact. I do not believe I am a…symptomof that liaison. I hope not. My father was a proud man and a learned one. When he discovered the infidelity, it destroyed him. I could not forgive the son for the sins of the father. Particularly when I saw you emulating his behavior. You were always an arrogant…selfishyouth. Caring for no one but yourself. I hated you for it.”
He spoke in a calm, emotionless voice, chin lifted proudly as he finished.
Horatio sighed. The revelation should have had him bolt upright, feverish with the accusations leveled at his old man. But he knew his father too well to presume they were baseless accusations. He dragged a hand over his face, wiping away the cold sweat, and then sighed again. “I am sorry for what my father did,” he muttered instead, “and I have certainly paid a price for my own sins, though I do not know what they were. I am not guilty of the crimes of which I am accused but have borne the punishment for those crimes regardless.”
“The only way to absolve yourself of sin is by admitting to it. Cleanse your soul and seek absolution,” Matthew said fervently.
“What doyougain from all of this?” Horatio asked suddenly. “Why do you aid the Godwins?”
Ainsworth's face reddened and he turned for the door.
“I stand to gain nothing,” he hissed. “I seek to right a historic wrong and save your soul.”
“I don't believe my soul is in jeopardy,” Horatio countered, “only my name. If I have misjudged you, I apologize.”
He hoped it sounded contrite. It was meant to be so. If Ainsworth was honest, then Horatio was maligning him by suspecting him. But something told Horatio that there was more going on behind the scenes than he could see. A trap had been closed about him.
But without Juliet, he could not summon the strength to fight against it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Juliet could not recall the color of Horatio's eyes. Were they brown, hazel, or even gray?
