She folded her arms. “And you remind me of a moth, forever singing itself on flames it cannot resist.”
His smile soured. “You would do better to humor me. I am a man of influence.”
“And I,” Christine said sweetly, “am a woman of sturdy boots.” She brought her heel down hard on his foot.
The old man yelped, staggering back, hopping on one leg. Christine swept past him without a glance. “I will give your wife my regards,” she tossed over her shoulder, striding for the stairs.
“Lady Gillray? May I have a moment of your time? It is most important,” Christine said, holding up the invitation in both hands.
Lady Gillray had iron-gray hair and a face to match. Her lips were thin and often pressed together. Her chin was pointed andfrequently lifted. Of Lord Dreadford’s wife, there was no sign, and Christine did not miss her.
“I am taking tea and catching up on my correspondence, Christine. This is not an appropriate time,” she said.
“I disagree, Lady Gillray,” Christine said, breathing deep to keep her racing pulse under control. She wanted to clench her fists, but contented herself with clenching her stomach, not wanting to give the outward signs of anger.
She has the power to evict me from this house, and I have nowhere else to go. I will not impose myself on Selina while she goes through this difficult pregnancy. It will be too much! I will not be burden to her, not now of all times.
“What is the meaning of this?” Lady Gillray’s voice cracked like a whip as her patience crumbled.
Christine held out the invitation.
“The meaning, My Lady,” she used the honorific that she knew Lady Gillray expected of her, even though Christine, as daughter of an Earl, outranked her, “is that you tampered with my correspondence. This invitation was addressed to me. You had no right.”
Lady Gillray’s eyes narrowed. “Ungrateful girl. We take you in, feed you, clothe you, and this is how you repay us? With insolence?”
Christine’s temper flared hot, bubbling up before she could slam a lid onto it.
“You take me in to scrub your floors and make your beds. And as pay, it seems, I must endure your spite until my sister is ready to shelter me herself.”
Christine clamped her lips tight, clenching her teeth behind them.
Have I gone too far? Selina always said my temper would get the better of me. Oh heavens!
Lady Gillray sniffed. “Or perhaps your brother, Charles, will shelter you. Oh, no, you do not know where he is hiding, do you? Where he belongs, I imagine, in a debtor’s prison, if justice is served. Many who trusted him with their savings found themselves beggared.”
Christine stiffened, shame and fury mingling. Charles’s ruin had splattered across her name, across Selina’s, like filth that would never wash away.
Charles is the brother who was always there for me when I cried. He was the hero I looked up to. And he abandoned us. I do not know if I want him to return to me or…
Christine opened her mouth to speak, but Lady Gillray cut across her. Her voice was smooth and deliberate.
“Finally, I suppose you would have prevailed upon Lord Bingley, your betrothed.” She poured scorn onto that word. “A good man. But I was obliged to turn him away after your scandalous behavior with him. He deserved better than to shackle himself to a ruined woman.”
Christine felt the world tilt. She gaped at Lady Gillray, who stared back with a superior smile.
“Scandalous behavior? I ended up in his company without a chaperone! It was not even deliberate. We were in company with another couple who suddenly had to leave.”
“You were alone with an unmarried man. Had I chosen to reveal that to your sister, it would have caused her much distress.”
“I did nothing to be ashamed of!”
“Then why did you so readily agree to my terms?” Lady Gillray said with a raised eyebrow, “To work off your moral debt to me. You would not have accepted the position I have given you in this house unless you felt guilt.”
Christine could not answer. She had accepted her position as an unpaid servant, as a slave, in order that Lady Gillray would not reveal the scandal to Selina. Christine would not risk any harm to Selina’s unborn child. But she had not known that it had not been Bingley’s silence, his rejection. It had been Lady Gillray’s without Christine’s knowledge or consent.
Rage surged, but she caught Lady Gillray’s watchful gaze, measuring her like a hawk watching a particularly tasty mouse. When Christine found her voice, she made it as calm and meek as possible. Let her voice quaver with rage, and Lady Gillray would take it for fear. She would not give her the satisfaction.
“Is that true? You sent him away?”
