Page 44 of Scandal’s Daughter

“Good girl,” he replied, nodding with approval. “We’ll get through this, don’t you worry,” he said, patting her hand. “And then I have every intention of killing my best friend.”

***

Sebastian forced his feet to move, to take him away from the scene that had just played out.

It couldn’t be.

It simply couldn’t be.

His head was seething, like his brain was full of writhing snakes and he just ... couldn’t ... think!

He forced his way through the crush, unheeding of gasps of disapproval, trying to block out the malicious whispers as the gossips fell upon the latest juicy morsel he’d provided for their entertainment.

He’d been determined to cut The Siren, to turn his back on her and show the ton that the Duke of Sindalton did not approve of her arrival among their select ranks. But it had been she who had cut him. And it hadn’t been the woman he’d imagined seeing here. She had been brassy and knowing and far too vulgar for anyone to wish to know.

No.

That hadn’t been her at all.

It had been his own sweet, Georgiana, the girl he’d been determined to run back to tomorrow because his heart was breaking without her. Except it couldn’t be because if it was that would mean ...

The facts and the dreams he’d built up around the woman he’d fallen for collided and spun in his head. She couldn’t be the daughter of Lady Dalton. The woman was an heiress and Georgiana was a nobody, a doctor’s daughter with no name and no fortune.

Unless ...

He ground to a halt, one hand leaning on the wall beside him for support because the pain of it was so fierce, he could hardly draw a breath.

Unless she had known who he was from the start.

Unless she had planned it to avenge herself on him and his family. Perhaps she hadn’t meant to, the way they’d met had been improbable after all but once she’d realised ...

But he’d said he was Beau. The thought occurred to him now that Beau must know what he’d done? and nausea roiled in his gut. Good God.

And Beau was determined to marry her.

No.

No. No! What had he done?

What had she done?

Blind with rage and shame and heartbreak he strode down the stone steps to the foyer and out into the night.

***

Beau forced her to dance with him and with Lord Nibley, who was terribly kind and gallant though he trod all over her toes and was the most dreadful dancer she had ever encountered.

Between the two of them and Céleste and Seymour who had sought them out the moment they’d realised what had happened, she was sheltered as far as they could manage.

They spoke to her with care, moving her from one spot to another and away from the eager chattering that seemed to follow her like a plague of locusts, chirruping in her ears so loud she thought she might lose her mind. But through it all her mind spun around the impossible truth.

He was the Duke of Sindalton.

The son of the man who had shot her father and ruined her mother, ultimately leading her to her death. Had he known? But how could he have known who she was when she hadn’t known herself? No. She dismissed the idea. It was too inconceivable that he should have met her by chance, guessed who she was and set out to ruin her ...

Wasn’t it?

But then she remembered that he hadn’t ruined her at all, though he could have done. He could have taken her because she’d been too wrapped up in him to refuse him anything. And yet he hadn’t.

He hadn’t taken that from her which was irreplaceable, and he’d said it was because he loved her. But why? Why had he pretended he was Beau when he was a wealthy duke?

The thoughts swirled in her head until finally, she was ushered into the carriage and taken away into the blessed darkness of the night. She allowed the gloom of the street to swallow her up and take her back to a place where she could go and tend her wounded heart in private and try to consider what on earth she could do to mend it.