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“Where is my sister?” Victoria demanded.
The startled girl nearly dropped her bundle of washing. “She’s—she’s downstairs, my lady,” she replied weakly.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“I—I don’t wish to say, my lady,” the servant said, looking down.
“You’ll say or you’ll be dismissed without wages or references.”
The girl blanched. “Her ladyship was brought in from the gardens this afternoon by Lord”—her gaze flicked over to Julius—“Withington, my lady. He said she had taken a fall, but…”
Victoria’s cheeks drained of color. “But? Speak!”
Cringing, the girl did as ordered. “When Lord Withington brought her back, the footman who helped them in said that her ladyship was laughing and that she smelled of liquor.” Her forehead wrinkled with upset. “Oh, my lady—I’m so sorry! ’Tis said she’s ruined!”
“You may continue with your work,” Victoria said absently. “And speak of this to no one,” she added sharply as the miserable girl turned away.
Together, she and Julius made their way downstairs.
“This is my fault,” she said woodenly. “I have to find Papa at once, figure out what happened, and explain myself.”
“It is as much my fault,” he replied. “We will both speak with him.”
Hurrying to her father’s office, they arrived just as the door was closing. She made to push it open, but Julius heard voices inside and stopped her.
Signaling for silence, he pressed his ear to the wood and heard Lord Richmond’s voice. After a moment’s hesitation, Victoria followed suit.
“I hope you’ve a decent explanation for what you were doing with my eldest daughter in your arms when you are practically engaged to Victoria—and don’t think I bought your story about her suddenly taking ill, either! I smelled the brandy when I went in to see her,” Richmond rumbled, displeasure evident in his clipped words and dark tone. “I want answers, and I want them now!”
“I swear to you, Your Grace, I had no idea she would react so to only a few sips from my flask. Evidently, her delicate constitution simply isn’t able to handle spirits.”
Victoria’s mouth hung open as she turned to Julius. “What has he done to Amelia?” she whispered.
He held up a finger and urged her back to the door. He felt like a child, eavesdropping like this, but they needed to know what was going on.
“Amelia has the constitution of a bloody horse,” snapped Richmond. “She’s far less delicate than most people might think—including me, and I ought to know! But answer me this: why would you even offer her spirits?”
“It was bitter cold, Your Grace, and she had come out with no cloak. I just thought that—”
A bitter laugh erupted from Richmond. “Well, that explains why she was wearing your jacket, at least. But what it doesn’t explain is why she was out in the gardens with you in the first place.”
There was a long pause, and then came Withington’s halting response: “I’m afraid we’d had a bit of a disagreement earlier this afternoon, Your Grace. We parted after some rather unfriendly words. I went to the garden seeking her out to try and make amends.”
“A disagreement about what, may I ask?”
“She objects to my marrying Lady Victoria.”
Soft, derisive laughter. “She is not the only one, young man. I do not think you well suited for each other, myself, but she does. And I know Victoria. If I forbid the match, she’ll only find a way to get what she wants by some other, far more foolish means. She is stubborn to a fault, and I cannot afford any embarrassments.”
Silence.
“I mean no offense toward you, you understand,” Richmond went on, sounding rather awkward. “You seem to get on with each other well enough, but my instincts tell me something isn’t right. Mine are simply the objections of a father wanting what is best for his child.”
“Completely understandable, Your Grace.”
“Understandable? Ha! Young man, when you’ve a daughter of your own and are looki
ng at potential matches for her, then you can tell me it’s understandable! Until that day arrives, I advise you to keep your tongue behind your teeth.”
