The Earl's expression shifted to something approaching sympathy, though it was the kind of sympathy a cat might feel for a particularly entertaining mouse. "Your Grace, perhaps we should discuss the Richmond property another time. I can see you have... other matters requiring your attention."
"No," Adrian said firmly. "We'll discuss it now. Graves, show Lord Hatherleigh to my study. I'll join you momentarily."
"Of course, Your Grace," Graves said, clearly desperate to escape the scene of what would undoubtedly become the scandal of the season.
The Earl lingered a moment longer, his gaze moving between Adrian and Eveline with undisguised fascination. "Miss Whitcombe," he said, executing another of those perfectly correct yet somehow mocking bows. "I do hope your injury heals quickly. Such accidents can have... lasting consequences."
The double meaning was clear to everyone present. He swept from the room with Graves, leaving Adrian and Eveline alone in the morning light that now felt harsh rather than gentle, exposing rather than illuminating.
"Adrian," Eveline began, but he held up a hand, his expression closed off in a way that made her chest ache.
"Return to your work," he said curtly, not meeting her eyes. "We shall discuss this later."
"My work?" She laughed, but it came out bitter and broken. "You think I can simply return to cataloguing after what just happened? After what everyone will think happened?"
"What would you have me do?" He turned on her then, and she saw beneath his icy control to the fury and frustration roiling beneath. "Challenge Hatherleigh to a duel? Demand his silence? Offer him money? Any of those actions would onlyconfirm his suspicions."
"His suspicions are already confirmed. You saw his face, his knowing looks. By luncheon, his wife will have spread this story across half of London, embellished with whatever sordid details her imagination can supply."
"Then we deny it."
"Deny it?" Eveline stared at him incredulously. "I was seen leaving your library at dawn, disheveled and obviously having spent the night. What possible denial could counter that?"
Adrian raked his hands through his hair in that gesture of frustration she'd come to know so well. "I don't know. I need to think, to plan, to..."
"To what? To fix this? There is no fixing this, Adrian. I'm ruined." The word tasted like ashes in her mouth. "Everything I've worked for, everything I've built, my entire future...gone because of one night, one storm, one moment of weakness."
"Weakness?" His eyes flashed dangerously. "Is that what you call what happened between us?"
"What else should I call it? A moment of madness? A terrible mistake? The precise thing you warned me about repeatedly?" She could feel tears threatening, but she refused to let them fall. She would not cry, not here, not now, not in front of him. "You were right about everything. About the consequences, about society's cruelty, about the price of association with you. I should have listened."
Something flickered across his face—hurt, perhaps, or guilt. "Eveline..."
"Don't." She backed away from him, needing distance, needing space to think through the catastrophe that had just befallen her. "Just... don't. Go to your meeting with Lord Hatherleigh. Discuss your Richmond property. Pretend that you haven't just witnessed the complete destruction of your cataloguer's life."
She turned and fled before he could respond, running through the library she'd come to love, past the shelves she'd so carefully organized, past the table where last night she'd discovered what passion truly meant. Her vision blurred with unshed tears, but she didn't stop, couldn't stop, had to get away from the scene of her downfall.
But even as she ran, she knew there was no escaping what had just happened. The Earl of Hatherleigh had seen her, had drawn his conclusions, would share those conclusions with his wife, who would share them with everyone. By evening, the story would have spread through London society like wildfire, growing more scandalous with each retelling.
She could already imagine the whispers, the knowing looks, the way doors would close to her that had never been particularly open to begin with. Her mother would be devastated when she would hear about it as she had gone to visit her brother Charles at present. Charles would be furious, and she... she would be branded forever as the woman who'd spent the night with the Duke of Everleigh, who'd traded her virtue for what? Position? Money? The chance to catalogue his books?
The bitter irony was that they'd think her calculating, when the truth was somuch more dangerous. She hadn't planned any of it, hadn't schemed or manipulated. She'd simply fallen in love with a man she couldn't have, and for one perfect-terrible night, she'd allowed herself to pretend otherwise.
Now she would pay the price for that pretense, and it would be everything.
In his study, Adrian stood at the window, ostensibly listening to Lord Hatherleigh drone on about drainage issues at the Richmond property but actually watching Eveline flee across the courtyard below. She'd thrown on her cloak but hadn't bothered to button it, and it streamed behind her like wings as she ran. Even from this distance, he could see the way she held herself; spine straight despite everything and chin lifted in defiance of the doom bearing down upon her.
"Your Grace?" The Earl's voice cut through his thoughts. "Have I lost your attention?"
Adrian turned from the window, fixing the older man with a stare that had frightened many people in the past. "Let us dispense with the pretense, Hatherleigh. You didn't come here about Richmond. You came fishing for gossip, and you've caught more than you expected. The question now is what you intend to do with your catch."
The Earl had the grace to look slightly abashed, though not enough to actually deny the accusation. "Your Grace, I assure you..."
"You assure me of nothing. We both know your wife's proclivities, her network of gossips and scandalmongers. By noon, she'll have heard some version of this morning's events. By evening, it will be the talk of every drawing room in Mayfair." Adrian moved closer to the Earl, using his height advantage to full effect. "I'm asking you, as one gentleman to another, to prevent that."
"You're asking me to lie to my wife?"
"I'm asking you to protect an innocent woman's reputation."
