The rage in Thomas’s gut began to roil again. He set aside his teacup and pushed back in his chair, one leg bouncing.
“You know there was a duel.”
They all nodded.
“Dorothea didn’t. Neither did Rose. They didn’t tell her for weeks, until they knew she would recover. By then, Mr. Bentley had started the rumors, including that he had been the one to call the duel.”
“And no one challenged him on that?” Philip asked.
Emalyn placed her teacup and saucer on a small table beside the wingback. “Someone did, but no one really knows for sure who it was. Rumor had it that Mr. Bentley’s second had had enough of his lies and told him that White’s would be informed if he continued on that path, as well as the gossip sheets. Mr. Bentley quietly withdrew from Society, and Lady Dorothea begged her husband to let sleeping dogs lie. She did not want to perpetuate the scandal.”
“No matter what it did to Rose.” Thomas could barely speak through the anger.
Emalyn leaned forward, her voice low. “What we are discussing is not talked about.Ever. Even among women. I would not tell you any of this, if Lady Rose had not already explained why she will not see you in this way. Roger Bentley destroyed something precious. None of the doctors, not even the midwives, can tell her if or how well she has healed. Whether she can conceive a child, or if she can, if she can carry one until its birth. And obviously, there would only be one way to find out. When Bentley spread his vile rumors, Lady Rose’s next inquiries were from married men who wanted to take her as a mistress. That’s when she made the decision not to be courted—ever—and she found another way for herself. You will respect this, Thomas, and you will not”—she looked around at all the men—“noneof you will repeat a word of this outside this room.”
Thomas’s rage threatened to boil over. His breath lodged in his throat as he fought to contain it, and his fingers curled around the wooden arms of his chair and tightened until his knuckles were reddened and dark with rage.
“Careful, Thomas,” Robert murmured. “That’s a Chippendale.”
Thomas bolted from the chair, lunging for his brother. Philip stepped in front of him, blocking his path. Thomas stumbled trying to stop, and Philip braced him with one arm against his son’s chest.
Philip’s words rumbled low, barely audible. “This is not about Robert.”
Thomas backed away, running his fingers through his hair, turning, pacing, aimless with no outlet for his fury. “I will kill him.”
Philip remained still. “No. You will not.”
“He deserves to be destroyed.”
“Yes. But it is not your place to do so.”
Thomas stopped, breathing hard. “This is not right!”
Emalyn stepped from behind Philip. “No. It’s not. But life doesn’t always turn out the way you most desire.”
Thomas stared at her. “That’s what you said to me when Grandfather died.”
She nodded. “Yes. It was true then and it is true now. And will be in the future.” She reached for him, rubbing his arm with a comforting, motherly touch. “That does not mean the truth will not hurt. It’s clear how much you have grown to care for Lady Rose, that you have a concern for her. But if you truly do, you will respect the life she has chosen. If she does not want you to court her, then you must not pursue her, and you will need to turn your attentions elsewhere.”
“And watch this vibrant, beautiful, intelligent woman disappear into the wilds of Yorkshire to spend her days caring for a spinster aunt and endless fields of sheep.”
“Yes. If that is what she chooses.”
Thomas released a long exhale, then drew his mother in for a hug. “You are right. I know this.”
She smiled. “I always am. And I will always love you. Even when you behave like a boorish rake.”
“I love you as well.” Thomas kissed her forehead.
Emalyn glanced at Philip. “I will still see you at two. That’s when Beth has her first caller today.”
“I will be there, hovering and ominous as always.”
“Glad I’m not courting Beth,” Robert muttered.
Their mother scowled. “You, sir, would not be allowed to.”
“Ouch.”
