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His hand in marriage? This cannot be real. I have only walked into a dress shop, and somehow my life has been yanked out from under me, and I am to be married?
“Ella! What is going on? You look awful! And why is everyone looking at us like we have stolen the king’s crown?” Mary’s voice is shrill with desperation.
“Come. Sit with your friend.”
“She’s my cousin.”
“Well, good. Someone is trying to ruin her reputation. Day say Lady Ella has had carnal relations with a Scottish captain. I hear dem saying it dis morning.” Sylvie comes over and wraps me in her arms, humming the sound of a sweet lullaby. “I have seen ‘dis too many times. The ignorant lies the haut ton craves to make their days more interesting. They never lift you up…only drag you down. You must be stronger than ‘dat. Never let society get the upper hand.” She is rocking back and forth, rubbing my back firmly. “Strong, little dove. Be strong…stay strong.”
Listening to the conviction in her voice is making me want to cry. Not only for the ruination of my reputation—that my poor mother held sacred—but for Sylvie and her country and the murderous terror they have had to endure.
“I cannot believe this has happened.” My voice is barely a whisper.
Mary comes over to sit in front of me. “Ella, dear. Look at me.” She takes my hands in hers. “Lord Stewart will make this right by you. He will not let you be ruined.” The sympathy in her voice makes the tears spill over.
“I know he will. But that does not change what has happened. It does not change why we would be married. It shall be tainted with scandal forever. My mother’s—oh God, and my father’s—hearts will be broken.” I look up at Mary. “Will they ever be able to trust me again? I could not bear it if they don’t.”
I stand up abruptly, anger replacing the sadness and fear. “It’s that bastard, Percy. I know it is. He forced himself on me yesterday, and Lord Stewart let him know, quite convincingly, that it will never happen again! This is his revenge.”
I look over at Mary, her eyes shiny with emotion. “Please don’t overthink this, Mary. I didn’t want to worry you unnecessarily. Lord Percy is a demented man, and I am now fearful of Lord Stewart’s retaliation. I literally had to beg him not to kill him yesterday after what Lord Percy did.”
The emotion is welling over, and now Mary is the one consoling me. She gently rubs my back as I fall into her arms. “I knew something was amiss with that toad. Thank God Lord Stewart was there to protect you!”
I can’t help but wonder about his reaction to the rumor that has spread through London.
“Mary, I think I want to go home. I’m sorry to have spoiled your day.”
“Nonsense. This is not your fault.”
“Ladies, I will put together an ensemble for each of you and have it delivered. I know what will look brilliant on you and bring out your magnificence.” Sylvie puts her arm around my shoulders. “You go home and rest, child. If I hear any more talk of dese lies, I will diffuse them as best I can.”
“Thank you, Sylvie. You have been so kind.”
The ride home was somber. Mary did not force any conversation on me. She let me be quiet and stare out the window, wondering what my future will hold. More than anything, I dread telling my parents what has happened.
“We’re here,” Mary announces quietly. “Do you want me to stay?”
“I would love that, but I need to face my parents alone. Thank you, Mary.”
The footman helps me out, and Mary gives me a hug and a few more words of encouragement. Donovan greets me at the door with his usual welcome, but the look in his eyes belies the truth in his words. He is giving me a warning that the rumor has arrived before me. With a slight nod and a deep breath, I acknowledge his silent message.
My poor mother. She must be beside herself. I wish I could simply run upstairs to my room and cry in Beatrice’s arms. But, that will never do, for I am no longer a child.
When Donovan reaches for the polished doorknob of the sunroom, a wave of anxiety washes over me. There is another voice mingled in with my parents, it is deep and accented, and the meaning of its presence sends a chill across my body. I open the door and all I see is Alasdair. He is stunning, standing there with undisguised confidence, dressed as if he were going to be presented to the king. I am torn between a spark of happiness—this incredible man is here to ask for my hand—and intense indignation, freely choosing my husband will not be my liberty.
Lord Stewart is the first to speak. My parents are clearly distraught and must not know what to say. I see my mother has been crying; her eyes and nose are red, her mouth drawn down in a devastating frown.
“Lady Ella, may I speak wi’ ye in private?”
My spine straightens.
“It would appear thatnois not an option.”
I look at my father, who offers a half-smile and nods his head. I trust him implicitly, so I take Alasdair’s proffered arm and allow him to escort me to the terrace.
The clouds are thick overhead, casting a gloom that seems to mirror the sense of dread that is making it hard to breathe.
“The first thing I want ye to know is that Percy will pay fer what he has done. He will be paying fer a very long time to come.”
