“Do you still go to the theater tomorrow evening?” Markson asked, looking dubious over the idea.
“Yes, I will certainly go. The YBC will be there in full force to show our support for Lady Viola.”
Markson nodded. “Just don’t take no more swings at anybody. If you bruise the other eye, you’ll be staggerin’ round like a blind man. You won’t do very well at a duel if you can’t see!”
Roland lifted his chin. “I am an earl. I will not seek out a fight, but if a fight comes to me, I will fight it.”
*
Viola had beenso startled when Darden had come crashing into the drawing room. Of course, as soon as he’d said he’d heard a terrible report, she’d known what it was.
They’d had a lengthy and painful discussion about her father. It had always been settled between all his children that he ought not be troubled over anything. They had done surprisingly well with the effort—her father had not been vexed since Cordelia had last accidentally set the house on fire.
This circumstance, though, could not be concealed. It was far too public to be hidden. The only thing worse they could conceive of, aside from telling him themselves, was that he heard it from an outsider.
The earl had gone out to play cards at his club and so they’d decided between them that they would see him after breakfast on the morrow.
That breakfast had been a solemn affair, with nobody very cheerful. The earl had not seemed to notice—he was, as usual, buried in his newspapers.
Now, and with heavy hearts, Viola, Darden, and Miss Mayton went to the library to find her father. Before going in, Viola asked Tattleton to see they were not disturbed and, while he nodded his acquiescence, he also looked as if he might faint.
Their poor butler was so high-strung these days. She really did not know the cause of it and supposed it was some personal problem they were not privy to.
Darden knocked and they entered the room.
Viola’s heart nearly broke upon observing how happy her father looked to see them.
“Gracious,” the earl said, “what is the occasion for this happy visit? You’ve not gone off and got yourself engaged already, Viola?”
“She has not,” Darden said, “and I am afraid this visit is not a happy one.”
The earl leapt to his feet. “Is somebody ill? Is it Beatrice? She is with child, you know. Oh, I do fret about that.”
“Everyone is in good health, father,” Viola said. “I am afraid I have made a mistake. A mistake in society which I imagine you will hear of soon enough.”
The earl sat down slowly. Viola placed herself in the chair in front of the desk.
“I really view it as more of a mix-up than a mistake,” Miss Mayton said.
“What is this mix-up or mistake,” the earl said gravely.
“Well, you see,” Viola said, “my sisters and I have spent years discussing what would be most important to us in a husband.”
“Yes, I have heard quite a bit of it.”
“Of course you have, and you’ve been very patient with us all. I have always felt that, for me, it must be loyalty. Papa, I just could not bear to find I’d wed a fickle man whose feelings might change over time, or who might resent me for doing something wrong. I’m bound to do something wrong sooner or later, am I not?”
“Sooner has arrived, I’m afraid,” Darden muttered.
The earl’s brows furrowed. “Child, I do not see anything mistaken in wishing for a loyal husband.”
“It’s the proving of it that’s brought on the difficulty,” Miss Mayton said, as if that clarification would answer all questions.
“The proving of it?” the earl asked.
“Lord Baderston has indicated his admiration for me so I thought,” Viola said, “that he must prove that he would always be loyal to me.”
“Is that the fellow with the red hair?”
