Ravenshaw turned on her. “Caroline.”
“Do not look at her,” Andrew snarled. “Look at me.”
Ravenshaw’s gaze snapped back. There was hatred in it now.
Good.
Andrew preferred hatred to lies.
“You cannot prove the child is mine,” Carrington scoffed.
“No?” Andrew asked.
“No.”
Andrew folded the letter once with deliberate care. “Then you will not object when I place this before every man in White’s by tomorrow evening. Nor when I send copies to your wife’s family, to your creditors, to the bishops who dine with you, to every hostess still foolish enough to receive you. Society may forgive a seduction. It may even forgive a child. But threatening an infant?” He took one step nearer. “That, Ravenshaw, has a less elegant sound.”
The man’s face darkened.
Lady Ravenshaw whispered. “Daniel, stop.”
Andrew’s eyes moved to her. “You knew.”
Her lips parted.
“You knew,” he repeated. “And instead of protecting the woman your husband had ruined, instead of protecting the child, you protectedhim.”
Her composure cracked then. Women like Caroline Ravenshaw had spent years learning how to break attractively and never too far, but enough.
“I did what I had to do.”
Her husband hissed. “Caroline.”
“No.” Her voice shook. “No, Daniel. He has the letter.”
Andrew watched her without pity.
Lady Ravenshaw pressed a hand to her mouth, then lowered it slowly. “Yes. I knew. Not at first, not until Mary was already gone. I found enough to understand. I knew what would happen if it came out.”
“To him?” Andrew asked. “Or to you?”
Her eyes flashed. “Do you know what becomes of a wife when her husband’s disgrace is made public? Do you know how many doors close to her for sins she did not commit?”
“I know what becomes of a maid without protection,” Andrew said coldly. “I know what becomes of a frightened young woman carrying a child while a man with rank threatens her life. I know what becomes of an infant when cowards find her inconvenient.”
Lady Ravenshaw flinched.
Ravenshaw’s mouth tightened. “This is absurd. Caroline acted rashly, perhaps. That is all.”
Andrew turned to him. “The child is yours.”
The silence that followed held no pretense. Ravenshaw looked away first. It was not a confession in words. It did not need to be. Andrew’s hand closed around the letter.
“Say it.”
Ravenshaw’s gaze returned furiously. “Why should I satisfy your–”
“Say it.”
