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“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know what to think!” Louisa said. “He showed up in the Meltons’ box Wednesday night, told me he forgave me, of all things, and then proposed again. It seems I am of sufficient status that London Society will quickly forget what happened and move on. Kerridge suggested that I am simply to end the betrothal to William and marry him—just like that.” She snapped her finger to make her point. “But it also became patently obvious that he doesn’t care about me, not really, no matter what he said. I’m supremely suitable, you see, so it’s worth his time to give me another chance. That’s what he was really saying, and the more I’ve thought about it since, the angrier I’ve gotten.” She didn’t tell them about her fiery conversation at Vauxhall with William; what she’d said was sufficient.
Imagine that, she thought with irony. She’d been judicious in her use of words and hadn’t babbled, despite how turbulent her emotions and her stomach were at the moment.
“The devil you say,” Anthony said. “I wish I’d known about it before now.”
“At any rate,” Alex interrupted, “Kerridge asked to speak with me privately, which is when I learned of his second proposal, by the way. Perhaps you aren’t giving him enough credit, Weezy. Perhaps he cares about you more than you think. He told me he was worried about you, so I agreed to go with him briefly and hear what he had to say.” He took a deep breath and then cleared his throat. “Weezy . . .” He trailed off and then slid closer to her and pulled her to him in a gentle hug.
“Is it really that bad?” she asked.
He didn’t immediately respond; he simply held her close and stared somberly at Tony, who pulled up a chair to sit across from them, their knees nearly touching. Finally, Alex heaved a big sigh. “Louisa, Kerridge said he saw Farleigh assist a woman into a carriage, follow her inside, and drive off together. A fairly young, unusually attractive woman, she was, according to Kerridge.”
“The devil you say!” Tony hissed.
Louisa’s stomach convulsed, nearly doubling her over. Of all the things Alex could have said, she would never once have suspected anything like that.
Alex began rubbing her back. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“No, of course I’m not,” she managed to grind out. The world swirled around her in a haze of black and red. She fought for breath and squeezed her eyes shut. A young, attractive woman surely meant only one thing . . .
“Does she have any smelling salts?” she heard Tony ask frantically.
“I don’t know! Maybe at her dressing table?”
Louisa heard rather than saw Anthony jump up and begin rummaging through her things. “I’m fine,” she said. “I don’t need smelling salts.”
“No, you’re not.” Alex’s ministrations to her back became even more vigorous. “I’m not fine, so you can’t be fine.”
“I promise you I’m not going to faint.” She opened her eyes and immediately closed them again, surprised by how dizzy she was. She could still hear Anthony opening drawers and cabinet doors and muttering some fairly harsh language he would never say in mixed company in other circumstances. She concentrated on getting her breathing under control. “Tony, sit down. You’re only making things worse.”
He walked over and dropped heavily into his chair.
Louisa tried opening her eyes again. The world around her had ceased to spin, so she sat up, which forced Alex to stop rubbing her back—frankly, it had been getting on her nerves too. “What more do you know that you haven’t said yet, Alex?” she asked, bracing herself. For there had to be more, else he wouldn’t have been so grave all day long or as upset as he was now.
“There was luggage on the carriage, Weezy. Her luggage, according to Kerridge, and quite a bit of it. Kerridge owns a house nearby and was in the process of leaving that morning when he saw Farleigh with the woman, although they didn’t see him.”
“And this happened . . . ?” It was a pointless question; she knew when it had happened. But she still had to hear Alex say the words aloud.
“Thursday morning, when you received his note informing you that he was again leaving town,” he answered quietly.
“I see.” She doubled over again, clutching her middle to hold the pain at bay. Alex pulled her even closer to him, and she turned and buried her face in the folds of his shirt. She could feel Tony patting her knees.
She felt cold and hot and empty and small.
A mistress. The woman was surely William’s mistress. Kerridge and Alex both thought she was. Undoubtedly, Anthony did too. They knew more about such matters than she did, and from what Kerridge had seen and told Alex, it seemed likely. Was William so desperate for her money and connections that he would hide something like this from her? Would he manipulate her in this way? He’d seemed truly sincere in his care for her at Vauxhall, and this evening, his emotions had been raw as he’d tried to open up to her. And he had tried; she knew he had.
And yet, he held things so deeply inside that she didn’t know him well enough to be confident either.
Gradually, the black and red began to clear from her vision, and she released herself from her brother’s arms and stood. She walked over to the window. She needed space. She needed to think.
“Whatever you want me to do, Weezy, I’ll do,” Alex said. “I’ll go to Farleigh’s place and pummel him into the ground, if you like. Tony will too; won’t you, Tony?”
“It would be my pleasure,” Anthony replied.
“I know I’ve brought you bad news, and I’m truly sorry about that,” Alex said. “But in the long run, it’s better to learn about it now, while you still have time to change your mind about marrying the chap.”
She continued looking out the window, out at the garden lit by a large, bright moon, and mulled over what she’d learned so far. “This is what I have concluded about Lord Kerridge,” she said. “He has been arrogant and condescending and, quite honestly, Alex, I doubt he can look at anything William does with the least amount of objectivity.”
“Are you saying you don’t believe him?” Anthony asked. “Do you think he made it up to cause trouble?”
