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Chapter Two
Chastity stuffed a finger through the hole in her slipper, waggled it and grimaced. There would be no repairing them. Damn that man, whoever he was.
Of course, the damage to her shoe paled in comparison to the fact a man had hanged himself at her sister’s wedding ball. She stiffened to avoid a shudder at the memory of the poor young man. At least none of her sisters had seen the body and Eleanor was tucked safely away in boot room of all places.
Now she must focus on Cassie. Her sister had not seemed at all fazed by the discovery of a body and that was either due to how in love she was, or the fact Cassie was rarely daunted by much. People thought of her and Cassie as quite similar at times, but Chastity envied that ability. She had certainly not bounced back from her husband’s death. It had been more like a slow crawl. Uphill.
Regardless, Cassie might need her comfort and she would not neglect that duty. Their mother was long gone and Aunt Sarah was a dear but about as useful as a bucket with holes in when it came to real life problems.
Like dead bodies and rude men.
She dropped the shoes on her vanity table.
Why had she expected any different? With the exception of her sister’s husband Luke, all men were awful.
Admittedly, the man who’d ruined her shoes had tried to protect her from that sight. But that was the only gentlemanly part of his behavior that night. There was something so galling about how unapologetic he had been. His dripping disdain for her still lingered in her mind.
She sighed, smoothed her palms down the lemon-yellow gown then tweaked the sleeves, giving herself a nod of approval. Cassie would not care if she looked a mess one jot, but she could not allow herself to be anything less than perfection if people were going to see her. It ensured no one had a single bad thing to say about her. Unless one counted that man, of course.
Scowling at herself, she stepped away from the mirror. She would not waste another moment on the rude stranger.
She stepped out of the room into the long hallway and paused at the corner by the Rembrandt when she spotted Demeter and Aunt Sarah. Gathered outside of Eleanor’s room, her sister had her ear pressed to the door.
“What is going on?” Chastity asked.
Aunt Sarah straightened and lifted the cat in her arms. “Simon is worried. Eleanor will not come out of her room.”
Chastity ignored the black and white cat who blinked lazily at her.
“Something bad has happened,” murmured Demeter. She handed a piece of paper to Chastity.
Chastity looked it over. “A scandal sheet. Why are you—” Her throat tightened, her heart giving a sudden, sickening pulse. She gasped. “That’s Eleanor.”
Demeter nodded grimly.
The caricature depicted a man in a noose with a cruelly exaggerated drawing of their sister. There was no denying it was her. The caption named her as Lady E and the artist had colored her skin entirely black. How many other Lady Es were there with Eleanor’s skin tone?
“Lady E. and her lover? They think she is his lover?” Chastity laughed. “But that’s ridiculous. Eleanor has no interest in the opposite sex and everyone knows that.”
Demeter made a face and rose. “S-She was seen talking to the man—alone—before he died apparently.”
“Well, he was a footman. It’s hardly scandalous.” Chastity waved a hand.
“They’re trying to suggest she had a hand in his death.” Demeter jabbed a finger at the caricature.
Indeed, the woman depicted had her hands upon the rope, declaring she would help him with all his needs. Chastity’s stomach lurched and she swallowed the bitter taste rising in her throat. Eleanor was no stranger to spiteful talk. Being the illegitimate, if claimed, daughter of a duke drew attention and the fact she was half-Jamaican made it even worse. But they had never weathered anything so awful and vile—especially an accusation of her having a hand in this man’s death.
“She would not let me in.” Demeter pressed her ear to the door again and made a face. “I think she is crying.”
Chastity crumpled the paper in one hand. How dare someone make her sister cry. How very dare they. She pressed a hot breath between her teeth.
“I will find whoever did this,” she declared.
“It will not stop the gossip, my dear,” Aunt Sarah said. “I remember when I wore quite the daring gown to the ball of ‘75 and they drew me with the most ridiculously large bosoms.” Her aunt chuckled. “Of course, I would not mind such a drawing so much now. Especially now my bosoms are not quite where they once were.”
“This is libel. Anton should sue.”
“If you can even find out who was behind the drawing,” Demeter pointed out.
