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She’d penned that little tattle of a engagement, and Mr. Bell had praised her for days. His paper that day had sold in record numbers as everyone seemed happy to wonder if their favorite duke might be hunting an heiress of immense wealth and unblemished breeding and reputation.
She had done her research and had not found much printed about Carlyle beyond humanitarian motions he supported in parliament, and the articles of support he penned to whichever causes he lent his credibility and reputation. He was seemingly loved by all of society, the rich, and the downtrodden.
No hint of scandal had been printed. Well, none that Pippa found. And that had surprised her considering the Duke of Carlyle seemed well spoken of by society. A man of his reputation should have one or two skeletons, surely.
Despite attending quite a few events for the season, Pippa had never met the duke. The rumors mentioned he had no time for frivolities, so he hardly appeared at any society functions, of which she could attest. Since she was unlikely to be asked to dance or take a stroll about the room, Pippa sought out her mother, and a few minutes later they departed the ball without the story Pippa had hoped for tonight.
A few days later, having just returned from another ball where she'd spied Lady Dunwood sneaking into the gardens with a known libertine. Pippa had started penning her story before even undressing from her gown, for Lady Dunwood was married to a marquess.
Lady W reports seeing a Lady D sneaking into the garden with Percival Gooden, at Lady Kasterlee’s ball…
Pippa paused tapping the quill on the desk impatiently. She was always careful not to be too evident in the names she mentioned in her tattle sheet, not wanting to lead anyone to ruin, but to create a stir of speculation and fodder to feed the throng. At times she crossed Mr. Bell with her refusal to be too specific, but he was quite happy with the sales of his gossip column since she had started working for him and did not grumble too much. His sheets were touted as golden, and many speculated that the ever-increasing famous Lady W was a member of the upper set of society. How it thrilled the consuming public to know that such a possibility existed. Rumor already abounded that there were bets at White’s about the author’s identity.
She dipped her quill into the ink pot only to release it as if she had been singed when her door shoved open without the courtesy of a knock.
“Miranda, you are home! What has happened?” Pippa asked, hurriedly shoving the sheaf of paper into the upper drawer of her writing desk. Despite their close friendship, she had not confided to Miranda of her Lady W identity.
Miranda covered her face with her hands, her blonde ringlets shaking with her distress. “Oh, Pi…Pi...Pippa, I've been such a fool!"
“Please Miranda, dry your tears and speak clearly,” Pippa cried, frightened by the copious amount of water work her dear friend shed.
“Something dreadful has happened over the weekend at Lady Burrell’s garden party, oh what a fool I’ve been!”
She hurried over to her friend, clasped her by the shoulder and led her to the bed where they lowered themselves onto it. “Dear Miranda, please tell me what it is so I may help you.” And I’ll help you, she vowed, owing much to her friend for the kindness she and her family showed to Pippa and her mother these last few months. “What is it?”
“I fear I am ruined,” Miranda whispered.
Ice congealed in Pippa’s heart. Ruined? Miranda was the most sensible girl she knew. How was this possible? “I don’t believe it!” declared Pippa, trembling with indignation.
Surely, no libertine had been foolish enough to turn their rakish charms on the daughter of Earl Leighton and then abandoned her. “Please let me see your face,” Pippa whispered.
Miranda lowered her hands, and took a bracing breath, before lifting her gaze to Pippa's. Miranda's eyes were vast pools of pain and shame, and Pippa almost cried.
“What happened?”
“Promise you’ll not tell a soul,” her friend whispered. “Vow it as we’ve vowed to be friends and sisters forever.”
Unease shifted through Pippa. “But the Earl and countess must surely know too—”
“No! Mamma and Papa cannot know. Surely I would be banished to the country.”
“Or they may force this bounder to do the honorable thing!”
Miranda’s lips pinched. “He has no honor. No heart. And no character. How deceived I was of his nature. I declare mamma and papa would not be able to sway such a man any more than I did.”
She gripped her friend's hand and cradled them between hers. "Tell me."
“Vow it first,” Miranda cried.
Pippa nodded. “I vow I shall keep your confidence.”
“It…it was the Duke of Carlyle. He has used and embarrassed me most abominably.”
“The Duke of Carlyle!” There must be some mistake. But if dear sweet Miranda who is far too good-natured to abuse people has named the duke as a libertine of the first order, there must be some truth to the matter. “What has he done?”
Miranda’s lips trembled. "Oh, Pippa. I…we were in a room together. Alone. I…I was bared to him. He saw me naked and has refused to make me an offer.”
Shock almost felled Pippa, and she dropped Miranda’s hand. “Naked? No shift or chemise?”
