Page 69 of Sinfully Daring

Miss Morcombe gave a derisive little sniff. “You mean I’m your charitable project? Your good deed?”

“My what?” Rosamund said, taken aback. “Is… Is that what you think? Is that how I’ve made you feel?” she asked, horrified by the idea.

Miss Morcombe’s face was set in hard lines as she turned to meet Rosamund’s gaze, but then all at once the rigid mask fell away, replaced by a look of sheer misery. Her eyes filled, and she shook her head. “No. No, I don’t think it. Oh, my lady, you were only ever kind to me. He said that’s what you thought of me. He said you weren’t really my friend, only pretending to make yourself look good, but then he said a lot of things that weren’t true, and I was a fool to listen to him.”

“Oh, my dear.” Rosamund’s heart clenched at the agony she heard in the woman’s voice and fumbled for her handkerchief as she saw the first tears roll down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. Oh, if only I’d known, but… but this man you speak of. Is it… Is it Mr Price?”

Miss Morcombe nodded, sobbing now. “And you warned me, didn’t you? You told me over and over not to take him seriously, but I thought I knew better. He was so kind at first, you see. So attentive, and he promised… he p-promised….”

She put her head in her hands and wept, and Rosamund could do nothing but hold her as the poor girl broke her heart.

“Miss Morcombe,” Rosamund began, and then tried again, for she could not ask such a question of the girl in such a formal manner. “Hannah, I hope you believe that I am your friend, for I swear it is true. And because I am your friend, I can promise you that if you were ever to find yourself in… in a difficult situation, I would help you. You can trust me, I swear you can. I will do all I can for you, if ever you should need me.”

Miss Morcombe stared up at Rosamund, a look of such utter resignation in her eyes, Rosamund wanted to weep herself.

“You know, don’t you?” she said, her shoulders slumping. “Not that it matters now. I shan’t be able to hide it much longer. Then everyone will know I’m ruined. Soiled goods. A—A harlot.”

“Oh, no!” Rosamund said, taking her hands and holding on tight. “No, Hannah. I shan’t let that happen. We will find a way, I swear it. We will make it all right, I promise. Papa will help us. He’s a duke, remember, and if anyone can help you—”

Before she could say another word, the young woman leapt to her feet, her face creased in such misery and anger, Rosamund could only stare.

“You can’t!” she shouted. “You can’t help me, no one can! Not after… not after… Oh, leave me alone, please!”

She ran, fleeing for the door with such speed, Rosamund could not hope to stop her. She tried all the same, hurrying out, but Miss Morcombe had already plunged into the crowded ballroom and disappeared.

“Oh, my word,” Rosamund said, agitated. Well, there was nothing else for it. She must find her father and Hargreaves. She needed help.

Finding her Papa and Sebastian was rather easier than Miss Morcombe. The two men stood with Lord Montagu and Gabriel Knight, and most people seeing the Duke of Bedwin, Lord Montagu and Mr Knight standing together, knew better than to approach them at such an event unless they were family or close friends. As everyone knew well that they were here for a reason and were ready to wring the necks of those gossips who insisted on throwing mud at Hargreaves and Rosamund, it was unsurprising to discover a large area of clear space between them and the rest of the room.

“Papa!” Rosamund said, hurrying up to him. “I spoke to her. It’s just as we feared, but the poor girl is in such a state. She’s terrified, and she ran away before I could persuade her we would help her.”

Her father muttered a curse. “Well, we must find her.”

“Did she confirm the father’s identity?” Sebastian asked quietly.

Rosamund nodded, wringing her hands together. “Oh, Sebastian, she’s so frightened and unhappy. I could weep for her. Humphrey Price ought to be horse whipped for what he’s done.”

“Price?” growled Mr Knight, his expression darkening. “Why, that slimy, disgusting excuse for a man.”

“Gabriel?” Montagu frowned at his friend.

“The bastard only spoke to me yesterday,” Gabriel said, his fury evident.

“What about?” Rosamund asked.

“He wanted to ask permission to court Evie. Well, I know full well Evie doesn’t like him, so I told him to sling his hook, but he did that, knowing full well….” His eyes glittered dangerously as his temper rose. “I’ll bloody kill him!”

“Wait, Gabriel,” her father said, reaching out to take the man’s arm and finding it closing on air.

“Oh, the devil take him, now we’re for it,” Montagu muttered. “Come along, before he murders the wretch.”

“Very well, but I must ask, why are we stopping him?” Papa demanded, hurrying after Montagu as Sebastian and Rosamund followed. “Do we care?”

“For Mr Price? Not a whit,” Montagu returned. “But I’ll not have Gabriel gain a reputation for murder and brawling when I’ve worked so damned hard to make him respectable.”

“Fair enough,” Papa replied, nodding, as they rushed out of the ballroom in pursuit of Gabriel Knight.

Chapter 18