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“Please, Lady Conroy, just think…I’m sure...I’m sure Lizzy cares about you much too much, and you for her—”
Lady Conroy made what sounded like a snort of derision. “I don’t care particularly for Lizzy, and I know she’s always thought me a spineless creature. With good reason. But I know what love is, and I’d have died for it six years ago. Well, I’m dying for it now. For all that was ruined and lost. For my mother’s duplicity. She destroyed my life and now she’s destroying Lizzy’s. And she’s doing it through me.” She heaved in another breath. “I’m sorry, Lady Fenton. I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused, and the trouble I’m about to cause. But my life is no longer worth it. I just wish I could have helped Lizzy, though God knows I tried.”
“No!” screamed Fanny as Susan took a step out into the darkness. “Don’t do it!” She could see the silver spangles of Susan’s dress a blur as she reached out her hands in a futile attempt of doing what she was incapable of doing.
And then she heard another scream which she thought at first was Susan’s death cry as she made her fatal plunge. But when Fanny peered more closely into the gloom, she realised Fenton had reached the battlement in time—and was leaning over the edge. From his arm clung Lady Conroy, her hair wild about her shoulders, her gown swirling about her.
And although she hung perilously, she was gripping Fenton’s wrist with one hand, and the thick root of the tenacious ivy that hugged the edifice, with the other.
Chapter 23
Theo went through the motions of dressing, barely attending to anything.
The ball was due to start in two hours, and dinner was being served in the dining room.
He knew he couldn’t show his face where his battle scars would confirm his reputation with so many of the guests who’d avoided him, so he confined his restlessness to the Long Gallery. It was vast enough with sufficient screens and large statues offering sanctuary that he’d be unlikely to see anyone while he collected his thoughts.
The fire had gone out in his own bedchamber and the cold and gloom had become intolerable. He suspected the other guests were better attended to than he was. The initial welcome from Lady Quamby had been followed up by a distinct lack of enthusiasm, and he knew his presence was barely tolerated.
He shouldn’t have been surprised, of course. He had become used to it.
It would take a while for society to adjust to his new status as Amelia’s husband; the man who’d kidnapped yet another heiress on the way to her wedding.
“Theo!” At least there was someone who sounded pleased to see him. Smiling, he watched Amelia’s progress across the room. He was surprised she’d seen him in the dim light amidst the statues and sculptures.
“You’re dressed early,” he remarked. She looked prettier than he’d seen her in a white silk dress with a blue net overdress, her hair piled up in a fetching topknot that reminded him of Lizzy.
“I’m borrowing Miss Scott’s maid. Mrs Lemming is still not well. Which is a good thing.” She nibbled her fingernail, her thoughts obviously elsewhere just as Theo’s were—then suddenly cried out, “Theo! What happened to you?” adding, when he frowned in apparent confusion, “Your face! You’ve been fighting!” Her hand went to her breast and she stepped back.
“Why should you think that?” Theo glanced at his feet, weighing up what to say next when she added fiercely, “I know what fighting looks like! Good lord, you’re not one for fisticuffs; I know you well enough to be satisfied on that score. But—” She sucked in a breath. “You look exactly as you did after you returned from confronting Lord Leighton.” The blood drained visibly from her face as she whispered, “Pray, tell me what has happened. Don’t spare me the truth.”
Theo raked his fingers through his hair and glanced up to ensure they were still alone. “Gad, Amelia, I should not be telling you, but you know more of life than you should…” He scratched his ear. “Truth is, I stumbled upon Dalgleish trying to force himself upon Miss Scott—”
“No! Miss Scott?” She shook her head and said wonderingly, “Why, Mabel, her maid has been chattering to me for the past half an hour as she did my hair and she said nothing, though she’s been most forthcoming on many other scores.” She worried at her lower lip as if she might say something else, but Theo was too impatient to learn how Lizzy did. “Did she mention Miss Scott at all? By God, I wish I could say I did worse to Dalgleish than this.” Gingerly, he touched his swollen lip.
Amelia’s expression was a picture of concern. “Mabel said only that her mistress had retired to her chamber with a megrim—most unlike herself—until Mrs Hodge summoned her.”
“That woman,” Theo muttered, causing Amelia to raise her eyebrows but instead of remarking upon this, she added, “Mabel said she took some persuading to do Mrs Hodge’s bidding but she did, and for that reason she had come to attend to me early, and she hoped I didn’t mind.” Amelia stroked Theo’s lapel. “Poor Miss Scott. But now I’m worried for you. I hope there isn’t bad blood between you and Mr Dalgleish.”
“Why should that matter?” Theo asked, surprised. “You and I are running away tonight. We won’t see Dalgleish again.”
“But he’ll be the first to blacken your reputation when we return.”
“Return where, Amelia? To society?” He shook his head. “It won’t be safe to return for some time. You know what Leighton is likely to do. He’ll hunt me down; I have no doubt.”
Amelia made a small noise of protest. “Surely not, Theo! We’ll be safely married!”
Theo knew his smile was more grim than reassuring. “We will be married, but I’m not sure how safely. You know how vengeful he is. He’ll pursue me with his usual relentlessness, just as he did in the months after Catherine died. He only stopped when your uncle offered you in your sister’s stead.” Of course, he should be trying to soften the impact of his words, but he was weary. The blow to his head seemed to have affected him more than he’d realised.
“Theo, I…I’m so sorry.” She dropped her gaze. “I know you’ve suffered. I know how much you’ve suffered. It’s…why I hoped that what we are doing tonight might have been some atonement.”
?
??I all but killed your sister, Amelia!” Theo responded with energy. “If I hadn’t made the decisions I did, and left her alone at that inn, trying to elicit your uncle’s help because I knew how ill she was—yet not knowing she was on the verge of death…” He gulped in air, forcing himself to relive it all over again, “When I had no ready funds to convey her to where she’d get all the help she needed at the time. Do you know how much I reproach myself for that?”
“You didn’t know how utterly vile my uncle was, Theo. Or how much he was complicit in what happened to Catherine.” Amelia flung away from him and began to pace in the small area between a Byzantine sculpture and a Mongol statue in a suit of leather armour. “And you did what you could. You took her home to your household where she infected Jane. Your sister died.” Amelia wiped away a tear as she turned back to face Theo. “You lost your sister and your reputation because I begged you to go after Catherine and save her from Lord Leighton’s clutches. Do you know how heavily that sits on my shoulders?”
For a long moment they were silent, staring at each other. Finally, Theo managed a rueful smile as he put a hand on Amelia’s shoulder. He thought of Lizzy and her lively spirit all but crushed by Dalgleish. But at least he was confident she’d no longer marry the villain. There was comfort in knowing he’d helped ensure that no longer came to pass. But there was so much more for which he had to atone. “Guilt is a corrosive thing, Amelia,” he said. “Let’s try not to let it spoil our marriage. The coach-and-four will be waiting just inside the park gates. Can you meet me there at 9 p.m.?” Placing both hands on her shoulders, he kissed her brow. “That will be during the peak of the festivities during which little attention will be paid us, I trust.”
