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Chapter Twenty-Four
Lydia’s heart pounded as she led her mother and uncle up the stairs of the duchess’s manor to a small study. In the darkness, she barely noticed the bouquet of flowers on the desk or the delicate furniture that alluded to the woman who typically occupied the space.
Martha closed the door behind her with a resounding thud, echoing the terror in her chest. When she turned around to face them, Uncle Francis’s face was a deep shade of red. Lydia noted a small muscle clenching in her mother’s face.
“I think we need to know how much of this letter is actually true,” her mother said, holding out the shameful pamphlet.
Lydia blinked back tears, overwhelmed, ashamed, and afraid. She wrung her hands in front of her, staring down at her feet.
“All the words are true; I wrote them in a letter to Trinity. But whoever published this has left out whole sentences, making it seem much worse than what it is.”
“And you expect us to believe that you did not surrender your virtue to that vile man?” her uncle asked, his voice rising with each word.
“He is not vile!” she cried out. “He is a good man, just misunderstood. I am still virtuous. We just-”
“Just what?” her mother asked, coolly. “If you were intimate with him in ways that you would not want your uncle or I to see, then I do not see any difference.”
“I do not see how it makes a difference, either, if she did or did not,” her uncle added, gesturing to the letter. “If even one person tonight keeps a copy of this pamphlet, it can be republished, reprinted. Frankly, I do not see how you are anything but ruined after tonight.”
Clasping her hand to her mouth, Lydia turned, choking back a sob.
“Once Mr. Weller hears word of this, or the marquess, there may very well be a chance that your sisters will be abandoned,” her mother said.
“There must be something we can do!” Lydia cried, tearfully. “I cannot let them be ruined over this.”
“You should have thought about that before penning such scandalous words,” her uncle told her.
“Would it have mattered?” Lydia asked. “Whoever published this could have simply lied, said that I wrote these things.”
“I do think we need to determine who would expose you like this,” her mother said. “Someone very much wanted to ruin your reputation and I do believe they have succeeded.”
“What do we do now, mother?” Lydia asked frantically. “There is no way to know if the girls will claim all the papers. Someone might pocket one and refuse to give it up.”
“I think we need to return home at once,” her mother said.
“Would that not be a confirmation of the scandal?” Lydia asked. “Should I not just go to deny the claim?”
“We must act quickly to see you married at once. If this gets out tomorrow and you are a single woman still, no man would have you,” her uncle said decisively. “I must go find the duke at once, have him marry you, or I shall be forced to duel him.”
“You must not duel him!” Lydia pleaded. “I cannot see him hurt in any way. I truly love him!”
“May I remind you that your duke is currently downstairs, perhaps already telling everyone that your engagement has been broken off?” her mother pointed out.
“What?” Uncle Francis shouted, looking from Martha back to Lydia. “Is that what you meant by charade, your engagement to the duke has been a lie?”
Lydia stared down at the floor, trying to blink back tears.
“So, he had no intention of marrying you at all,” he continued, in a low whisper. “You have lied to me for weeks. What good does love do you now, niece? It is deplorable enough that you would act in such a way with any man, let alone a man you knew you would never marry!”
Lydia grasped the back of a chair, trying to steady herself. The words her uncle threw at her, wounded her deeply. The embarrassment of the scandal and the pain of Michael’s abandonment made her feel weak and nauseous again. Somehow, she had held out hope all along that he would change his mind, but with her circumstances now, she realized that she was closer to ruination than she thought she ever could be.
When she said nothing in return, her uncle scoffed. “Then this is what you deserve,” he looked to Martha. “And you knew about this?”
She said nothing either. Her uncle shook his head. “The whole lot of you. I cannot believe it. You had better hope Mr. Weller and the marquess will still have Johanna and Trinity, as I will not have a single one of you left in the house after this.”
“You’re throwing us out?” Lydia asked in horror. The fury on his face answered her question.
Martha ignored him, calmly taking charge of the situation. “We should go home and make a plan. Let us see if we can find you a suitor willing to marry you after this, and as quickly as possible. I must also speak to Mr. Weller and the marquess to explain the situation and encourage them to go through with their wedding plans. And you will speak to no one. I believe you have helped enough as it is.”
