by Merry Farmer
“You wicked, wicked man,” her mother shouted on as Dr. Pearson hissed and sputtered in his attempt to calm her. He had not, however, bothered to let go of Lavinia yet. “My Lavinia has been ruined by your salaciousness. Whatever shall become of her now? However will her honor be restored? What shall we do?”
Lavinia had a horrible feeling that she knew exactly what would be done.
Chapter 4
Armand pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose where it met his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut, praying his headache would go away. Both the pain behind his eyes and Lady Prior.
“This is an outrage,” the old windbag continued to rail, appealing to the disturbingly large crowd that was flooding into the open center of the hedge maze. Was nobody in the ballroom dancing? “My poor girl is ruined.”
“She is not ruined, Lady Prior,” Armand sighed at last. The only way he was going to escape the awkward situation intact was by facing it head-on.
“She must be,” Lady Prior insisted, appealing to Alex. “Just look at her.”
Everyone assembled glanced to Lady Lavinia in the dying sunlight. The poor woman’s dress was torn in multiple places. Even in the dim light, faint, angry scratches stood out on her skin. Her hair had spilled out of its style and framed her frightened face and pale shoulders. Most damning of all, in the tug-o-war to free her from the rose bushes, one side of her bodice had been pulled askew, exposing far more of the plump mound of her breast than she must have been aware of. Armand tried not to stare at the half-circle of dusky areola that peeked above the ruined neckline.
He cleared his throat and stepped in front of Lady Lavinia, shielding her from the others, then nodding to her bodice. Lavinia glanced down, then gasped as she tugged her bodice back into place. As she did, she peeked up at him with tears in her eyes, as though she knew something he didn’t. The one thing Armand knew beyond a shadow of a doubt was that poor Lavinia was not complicit in anything that was happening to them.
Armand gritted his teeth and turned back to the others. “Lady Lavinia was being pursued by Dr. Miller,” he said, glancing particularly at Alex. Alex instantly tensed, balling his hands into fists and searching the growing darkness. Armand went on. “She was forced to attempt to hide from the man inside the rose bush.” He flung an arm out at the bush to emphasize his point. “I happened across her in distress. After chasing Dr. Miller away, I attempted to extract her from the thorns. That is all.”
“Yes,” Lavinia insisted, stepping up to his side. “I swear to you, Mama, that is all.”
But Lady Prior snorted and brushed away the truth with a wave of her hand. “A likely story. No daughter of mine is foolish enough to throw herself into a rose bush to escape a suitor.”
“He wasn’t a suitor,” Lavinia hissed, both angry and miserable. “He was…he was inappropriate with me.”
“You see?” Lady Prior turned to the curious onlookers. “She confesses that the doctor was inappropriate with her.” She pointed to Armand.
“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” Lavinia protested, but already her shoulders were dropping and Armand could hear the defeat in her voice.
Armand watched her with equal parts pity and horror. Lavinia sent another apologetic look his way, as though she knew what was coming and how it would tangle them. He cleared his throat and made a last effort to explain. “I assure you, my coming to Lady Lavinia’s rescue was entirely innocent. I simply wanted to help.”
“Help yourself, you mean,” Lady Prior said, raising her voice and picking up steam all over again. “You saw a beautiful, innocent young woman in a vulnerable position and you swooped in with your lust and depravity. I saw the way you were holding her.” She pivoted toward the others. “It was a passionate embrace, I tell you. He was kissing my poor Lavinia’s neck and trying to remove her gown.”
“No!”
“I was not.”
Armand and Lavinia protested at the same time. Armand glanced to his friends, appealing to their rationality and good sense.
But rather than jumping to his defense, Malcolm had his head together with Peter. The two of them wore amused, calculating grins as they discussed the situation behind their hands. Marigold Croydon had her arms crossed as she studied the scene with thoughtful eyes.
“We demand satisfaction,” Lady Prior said when the silence had gone on too long.
“Satisfaction?” Armand blinked at her. “Who would you suggest I fight a duel with?”
“No, no.” The impossible woman shook her head and clucked, as though Armand was being purposely difficult for not instantly understanding what in Hades she was talking about. “You’ve compromised Lavinia’s honor,” she explained with all the precision of an Oxford lecturer. “That means it’s your responsibility to marry her in order to restore it.”
Armand’s eyes snapped wide and a chill ran down his back. “Marry her?” He glanced to Lavinia, alarmed. Unfortunately, the poor woman didn’t look remotely shocked by her mother’s pronouncement. In fact, she drooped as though she’d been waiting for the suggestion to be made from the moment the confrontation started. When she lowered her head farther and gulped in a breath as though staving off a sob, twin shards of compassion and aggravation sliced at Armand’s insides. On the one hand, he remembered how she had told him not two days ago how eager she was to build an independent life for herself. On the other, was he really such a horrible choice for a husband?
As soon as the thought hit him, he shook sense back into himself. “I’m not inclined to marry,” he said, pulling himself to his full height. A tiny moan from Lavinia had him deflating again in a moment. “It’s not you,” he said in a soft voice, just for her. “It’s just that….” He stopped himself from telling her he intended to be on a ship bound for India in two days’ time. Instead, he said, “I’ve been married to my work as a physician all these years. I never considered matrimony. It isn’t any reflection on your worth.”
She glanced suddenly up at him as if he had, in fact, told her she wasn’t worthy. Her lower lip wobbled and her eyes grew even more glassy. Armand let out a breath of defeat. Everything he said or did was wrong, just like the last several years of his life.
“I’m sorry,” he began, “but—”
“I think you’re going to have to marry her,” Malcolm interrupted.
Armand froze, the muscles in his back clenching so fast and so hard that pain flared through him. He turned a furious glare on his friend.
Malcolm merely shrugged, his eyes dancing with mirth. “There’s nothing for it,” he went on. “You’ve compromised the woman’s honor.”
“Yes,” Peter agreed, having a hard time not chuckling as he spoke. “It’s a time-honored duty, after all, to marry a woman whose honor you’ve impinged on.”
“But I haven’t done anything,” Armand argued, raising his voice in spite of the part of his mind that urged calm. “I was merely trying to help her get free of the rose bush.”
“You have to marry her,” Lady Prior said, as though declaring victory. “Even your friends say so.” She treated those friends to a grateful smile.
“It isn’t fair to Dr. Pearson,” Lavinia appealed their audience. “If he doesn’t want to be married, he shouldn’t be forced into it. And neither should I,” she added in a voice so small Armand wasn’t sure if anyone other than him heard it.
“I think it’s for the best, dearest,” Marigold said, coming forward and sliding her arm around Lavinia’s shoulder. She leaned closer and whispered something in Lavinia’s ear. Lavinia’s face pinched and crumpled, but then she let out a breath, her shoulders sank, and she nodded grimly, lowering her head.
Armand had the terrifying feeling his fate had just been sealed. “I don’t think Lady Lavinia, or the rest of you, fully understand the situation,” he said, jaw tight, staring directly at Malcolm. The man should know better after what they’d been talking about not an hour earlier. He was leaving England. He was abandoning his title and lands immediate
ly. Malcolm knew that.
Then again, Malcolm knew that. He likely also knew what it would take to change Armand’s mind, even if by force.
“Are you going to explain the situation to her?” Malcolm asked, daring Armand to confess all.
Armand refused to let his wily friend cow him. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I will.” He turned to Lavinia, offering his arm. “Lady Lavinia, would you be so kind as to accompany me out of the maze so that we may discuss this matter?”
Lavinia swallowed. She pulled away from Marigold and made a weak attempt to square her shoulders and face him. Her eyes glistened with tears, and she nodded. “Yes.” She took his arm.
Armand felt terrible for her as he escorted her away from the onlookers in the center of the maze. Behind them, he heard Lady Prior squeal with delight and Alex say, “Search the maze for signs of Miller. If you find him, flay him alive.”
“I wouldn’t want to be Dr. Miller,” Armand said, attempting humor in a situation where there was none. At least, not to him.
“I expect you frightened him off long before the others came along,” Lavinia said, her words filled with exhaustion. She glanced up at him as they turned a corner in the maze, taking the easy path that would dump them out at the far end of the hedges. “Thank you, by the way. I don’t think I was given the chance to say that.”
Armand answered with a wordless hum of acceptance. The two of them were silent as they made a few more turns, then followed a long corridor out into the open. The moon was rising over the hills as they walked into a clearing far enough from the maze that he would see anyone who attempted to come after them to eavesdrop. The breeze had picked up, fluttering the torn pits of Lavinia’s gown. She shivered, rubbing her arms. Armand hesitated, knowing every move he made would be judged, but gallantry won out. He unbuttoned his coat, removed it, and settled it around Lavinia’s shoulders.
“I know you don’t want me,” she blurted all at once. “I know that this was all a wicked, wicked plot of my mother’s. She’s been trying to marry me off to a gentleman for years now. I’m so ashamed that her plots have actually borne fruit. But I promise I’ll be a good wife to you.”
Armand was so stunned by her outburst that even though his mouth dropped open, no words came out.
“I won’t get in your way,” she went on, sniffling and wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of his jacket. “I can manage your house and represent you well in society. And I’ll give you children, if that’s what you want.” Her voice nearly disappeared at the suggestion, and he could see the flash of fear in her eyes. “We may have been pressured into this, but I won’t let you down.” Without further ado, she burst into tears.
“Don’t cry,” Armand said, his heart squeezing and adding to the pain in his head and his back. He felt as lame and useless as a ship without a rudder. He couldn’t bloody well stand there and let the poor woman weep, but if he followed his instinct and took her into his arms to comfort her, it would be the nail in their mutual coffin. “I know that you had no part in setting this up, if that makes you feel better.”
She glanced pitifully at him. “You do?”
He nodded.
“That does make me feel a bit better. I would hate for you to go forward believing I’d deceived you.” She took a quick breath, then rushed on with, “I promise you that I’ll never lie to you. I’m not like my mother that way. I believe in honesty in all things. I swear I won’t become manipulative like she is.”
A stab of guilt piled on top of the morass of emotions Armand wrestled with. She deserved the same promises she was making to him. She deserved to know about his plans for India. Perhaps he could reply to Dr. Maqsood, beg him to delay sailing, or to allow him to sail to Lahore on his own in a few months. He could marry Lavinia, get her settled at Broadclyft Hall and…and what? Abandon her along with his title, estate, and other responsibilities? Walk out on her when she most needed a friend? It would be better for him to jilt her now…and ruin any chance she might have for another offer of marriage, if the story of the two of them being caught together made it past the grounds of Winterberry Park. And with so many spectators, that was a distinct possibility. Lavinia had told him she longed to be independent, but he doubted the isolated life of a fallen woman was what she’d had in mind.
At long last, he dripped his shoulders and let out a heavy sigh. Her mother had sprung the trap with devastating efficiency. “We’re not going to be able to wiggle out of this, are we?” he asked.
Lavinia lowered her head and shook it. “This is what my mother has been waiting years for. She’s not going to let it go.”
“And I have the sinking suspicion my dear friends are keen on the match as well.”
She sniffled, wiped her nose, and tilted her head to the side. “As Marigold said, it makes perfect sense. We are close friends, you have been friends with her husband for decades. It completes the set, so to speak.”
“Is that what Mrs. Croydon whispered to you?” Armand asked, one brow raised. Lavinia nodded. “Are we a tea service, then?” She wrinkled her brow in confusion. “A matched set? And now all the pieces have been assembled?”
A wry twist pulled at the corner of Lavinia’s soft lips. “I feel rather like a shattered sugar bowl at the moment.”
He didn’t know why, but something about the comment and her attempt to make light of things pierced Armand’s heart. Risks be damned, if he was going to have to marry the woman anyhow, the least he could do was provide some comfort for her. He stepped toward her, taking her into his arms and rubbing her back bracingly, to give her strength.
“We’ll muddle through,” he said with a resigned sigh.
She leaned her weight into him and let out a breath as she rested her head on his shoulder. A flash of fear and protectiveness zipped through him. He knew she wasn’t happy with the situation, and yet she trusted him enough to turn to him for support, physically if nothing else. Given how Miller had behaved toward her, she should have been shrinking from him in terror. Perhaps marrying her wouldn’t be so bad after all.
“That’s an encouraging sight.” Malcolm’s comment—a little too much glee in his tone for Armand’s liking—pushed them apart. Lavinia gasped and took a step back, seeming to shrink into Armand’s coat as the party of his friends and Lady Prior approached them from the edge of the maze. “So, we can send off for a special license right away then?” Malcolm went on. He elbowed Peter in the ribs as though the two were fifteen years old and sharing a bad joke.
“Oh, this is glorious,” Lady Prior gushed, speeding forward to hug her daughter. “I knew this house party would be our opportunity. I just knew it.”
“Mama, please,” Lavinia muttered.
“We shall get started with wedding plans immediately,” she said, looping an arm around Lavinia’s waist and steering her back toward the house.
Armand opened his mouth to stop them and ask for his coat back but thought better of it. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair instead.
“Katya will be happy to hear of all this,” Marigold said, flanking Lavinia’s other side, along with Mariah, as they headed back to the house.
“Lady Stanhope,” Lady Prior snorted. “She’s probably inside, flinging herself at men half her age.”
“She probably is,” Malcolm grumbled as the ladies turned a corner and disappeared into the dimming twilight.
Peter came up behind Armand and thumped him on the back. “So you won’t be able to flee the country after all,” he said with a smile. “There’s nothing like marriage to teach a man where his true responsibilities lie.”
“I’m not defeated yet,” Armand muttered, starting back toward the house. Malcolm and Peter walked on either side. Armand glanced around and said, “I suppose Alex went hunting for Miller?”
“Miller and Gilbert Phillips,” Peter answered.
“Why Phillips?” Armand asked.
“To give him an extra task tomorrow,” Malcolm said, grinning impishly. When Armand raised a que
stioning brow at him, he went on with, “Phillips was already slated to take our letter outlining the plan for the new parliamentary session in November to Gladstone. Seems that now Alex wants to task him with picking up a special license for you while he’s in town.”
Armand nearly tripped over his feet. “You weren’t joking, then?”
Malcolm assumed an air of mock seriousness. “I never joke about matrimony.”
Peter laughed. “Might as well get it over with sooner rather than later, eh?” He thumped Armand’s back again. “You’ll like being married to a younger woman. It’s amazing what it does for your vitality and outlook on life.”
Armand narrowed his eyes at his friend. He suspected that vitality was the reason Peter was now expecting his second child within eighteen months of marrying Mariah. Something told him Lavinia wouldn’t be quite so biddable in bed. Although if she was….
“I love it when plans come together,” Malcolm cut short his thoughts. His friend was in far too good a mood. Katya had better watch her back. “Armand here is about to discover the joys of married life and Parliament is shaping up to plan. Once that letter gets into Gladstone’s hands and he approves of our plan of action, we’ll have Shayles and his lot running for their lives.”
“It’s hard to say which of those two things is more important,” Peter said. “Love or politics.”
“Tricks, you mean, not love. Love is a long way off,” Armand mumbled. He just hoped his friends hadn’t maneuvered him into the biggest mistake of his and Lavinia Prior’s lives.
Chapter 5
It was over. Everything Lavinia had hoped her life would become was ruined. As ruined as the basket of fractured pieces of porcelain that sat on the folding table in the center of her circle of friends. Two gloomy days after the ball, the skies had opened up with rain—which seemed all too poetic, given the circumstances—so rather than strolling through the gardens or running pointless errands into the village, Marigold had all of her female guests scattered throughout the morning room, working on various craft projects. Her footmen had erected temporary workstations by setting folding tables between the clusters of sofas and chairs that usually decorated the room. Lavinia was supposed to be constructing a mosaic tile using the bits of shatter plates and teacups, but it seemed like a pointless exercise when there was no way she could piece her dreams back together.
