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“Love? Love’s got nothing to do with it, girl! You’re ruined! Everyone knows you were caught together in this house!”
Her cheeks paled another shade. “Something horrible must have happened. First Amelia, and now me. Something…”
With a roar of frustration, Papa threw down his newspaper. “I shall speak with His Grace about this immediately! How dare his son renege after, after—I shan’t stand for it, I tell you! The pair of them are devils, both of them, and I shan’t stand for it!” He strode out of the room, bellowing for his secretary.
Victoria stood there, shaking. Alone. What in heaven’s name had happened?
SOCIETY HAD A field day over the news. All parties involved were frustratingly unforthcoming regarding the details, but the servants’ gossip more than made up for their silence.
The result was absolute uproar.
Victoria remained cloistered at Richmond Manor. Nothing short of the end of the world could persuade her to emerge from her chambers. She barely opened her door except to receive food and drink, which were sent back largely untouched. In the darkest hours of the night, just before dawn, she thought she might die of the pain in her heart.
Amelia went on as if unaffected by it all, just as cool and untouched by emotion as ever.
Victoria began to hate her. She knew Amelia was tied to this somehow but couldn’t for the life of her figure out how. Night after night, she wracked her brain, ending in heartbroken tears until exhaustion took her at last, giving her a few hours’ peace until the joyless dawn awakened her.
Finally, at Papa’s imperative, after two weeks she emerged from her chambers. She waited quietly for him to acknowledge her presence. When he finally looked up from his papers, she spoke. “Papa, I have a request to make of you.”
“I’ve spoken with the duke,” he said over her. “I have attempted to salvage this to the best of my ability, but he refuses to force his son to marry you on the grounds that you broke troth.”
She looked at him, confused. “What?”
“His son told him he had evidence that you and that Withington fellow had maintained what he termed an ‘inappropriate association’ and that he could not marry a woman of questionable virtue.”
Victoria stared at him, her entire body suddenly numb. But she’d given her virtue to—
“I shall never live down this disgrace,” her father barked. “If your poor mother—God rest her soul—were still alive, she’d die of humiliation.”
Anger flooded through her, hot and revitalizing. “He’s wrong, Papa! And so are you for believing it! I never had any interest in Withington. He was only—”
“Have some dignity, girl, and don’t shame yourself further,” he cut in angrily. “You’ve been caught and have lost the game. Accept it. There’s nothing more to be said on the matter. You’ve ruined yourself. In the worst possible way.” He drew himself up. “Let us hope that your sister manages to somehow escape your taint. As it stands, I seriously doubt we can hope for an offer this Season. Perhaps next year…”
His words faded in her ears. He truly thought she’d been with Withington. Her stomach clenched and nausea threatened, but she held her spine straight as she addressed her father once more. “I am innocent of this accusation,” she interrupted with as much dignity as possible.
“Even if I believed you, there’s nothing can be done about it, now. You compromised yourself with Cavendish under this very roof. Now neither your intended nor your lover will have you,” he said, shooting her a disgusted look.
“He is not my lover!”
“Had he still wanted you, the devil would have come forward by now,” he went on, ignoring her. “But he hasn’t. And he won’t. You’re soiled goods, and if I were to force the issue with Withington’s father, everyone would guess at the truth and your sister would suffer for it. That I cannot do. She has suffered enough already. As long as Cavendish does not disclose his reason for reneging, I shall count us fortunate.”
So. It had come down to it, at last. Everyone thought her a whore. Even her own father. She stood, head bowed, tears dripping onto the thick Anbusson carpet below. “I should still like to make my request.?
?
“Make it,” he snapped. “But don’t expect to have it granted.”
“I wish to leave London,” she all but whispered, forcing the words from between her lips. She gathered her courage and forged ahead. “My cousins in France have often asked me to visit. My being absent will ease the situation, if only a little. You won’t have me round your neck and in the way of your ambitions for Amelia.”
“You think to simply run away from your shame?”
She looked at him squarely. “I see no reason to remain here and be punished for a crime I did not commit, regardless of whether or not you believe me,” she insisted through clenched teeth. She swallowed her bile. “I’d like to leave as soon as possible. Within the week, if I may. You can send me with a letter. They won’t refuse me.”
“Perhaps it would be best for you to take a sabbatical,” he agreed.
“No sabbatical,” she said, shaking her head. “Once there, I shall build a new life for myself. I am well educated and I speak the language. I can make my own way. And you can restore your dignity by telling everyone that you sent me away, that you’ve disowned me. You can pretend that I never existed. I care not. All I require is enough money for the journey to France.”
He stared at her in silence for a long moment, and she wondered if he felt anything for her other than shame. “If you wish to go, I’ll allow it,” he finally said. “I’ll write the necessary letters and make the arrangements. But let us not say it is permanent,” he added. “If this is all the result of some horrible mistake, then the truth will eventually come to light.”
