How to Ruin Your Reputation in 10 Days (Ladies of Passion)

by Harmony Williams

  Julian stepped in front of me, angling his body so he shaded me half from view. It wouldn’t fool everyone, but I had some hope Panicle couldn’t see my leg. I nudged Julian, urging him to sidle past the bacon-brained young lord.

  “I assure you, she’s been here the entire time.”

  “Oh?” Panicle said, raising his eyebrows. “I didn’t see you during the performance, Miss Annesley.”

  “I was in the garden,” I said tightly. Since he’d attended the botany lecture, surely he would understand.

  Then again, when I’d glimpsed his notes, I’d seen only doodles, no information.

  “I see,” Panicle said. He turned to Julian. “And where were you?”

  I nearly gasped at so blunt a question. From Julian’s stiff posture, he didn’t care for the insinuation, either.

  “I sat in the back row.”

  “Did you?” Panicle shrugged, a knowing look on his face. “I also sat in the back. I must have missed you.”

  “You must have,” Julian bit out.

  I cleared my throat, hoping to cut the tension. “We were just on our way to the buffet table.”

  “What a coincidence,” Panicle said. “So was I. I’ll accompany you.”

  Julian and I exchanged an alarmed glance. The buffet table resided on the far side of the rows of seats from the doorway. How would we navigate that much land without exposing my ripped skirt? My stomach lurched.

  Catching my eye, Julian mouthed, “Fall.”

  I didn’t question him. I threw myself to the ground, landing on the damaged side of my skirt. The impact smarted. I didn’t feign my grimace.

  Julian knelt by my side. “Miss Annesley, are you hurt?”

  “My ankle,” I said, clutching the offending appendage. It had already been injured, but hopefully Panicle didn’t know that. While walking leisurely, the limb didn’t give me too much grief.

  Panicle frowned. Out of disbelief, disappointment, or genuine concern? I couldn’t be sure. He stepped closer. “May I be of assistance?”

  “Perhaps you should fetch a footman,” Julian suggested.

  The frown on Panicle’s face deepened, but he said, “Of course. Right away.” He slinked off to perform his chore.

  Unfortunately, the performance attracted other viewers. Men and women hovered on the fringes of the spectacle. Not close enough to be called upon to help, but near enough to witness the ruckus for themselves.

  Mother elbowed her way to the front of the crowd. “Francine, what happened?”

  She crossed to me and fell to her knees beside me, heedless of the damage to her skirts. As a married woman, she wore darker colors than us unmarried ladies and debutantes. Grass stains shadowed the deep blue muslin she wore, rather than marred it. Given the lack of thought as she rushed to my aid, I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been in the habit of dirtying her clothes as a young woman like me.

  When she leaned close enough, I whispered, “I ripped my skirts. I can’t get up or they’ll see.”

  A deep furrow formed between Mother’s eyebrows. “How have you hidden it so far?”

  “I’ve stood close to Julian.”

  She considered the man in question then shook her head. “No, much too noticeable. You’ll stay by me. Logically, I must keep a close eye on you with the rumors floating about.”

  I winced at the reminder. “Sorry, Mother,” I murmured. “Rose is counteracting them.” If that counted for anything at all.

  Mother squared her shoulders and beckoned Julian closer. “Let’s help her stand.”

  She wormed her way beneath my right arm, on which side I laid. Julian grasped the other. Together they hoisted me to a standing position. I plastered my hip against Mother’s skirts to hide the rip.

  To Julian, Mother ordered, “Fetch the baron, would you? I think it’s best we leave.”

  He nodded once, curtly, then turned to do just that.

  As the gawking group realized I was not, in fact, grievously injured, their interest waned. They returned to their various conversations. Mother and I made slow progress toward the door as she smiled and waved to various matrons, most of whom turned their backs.

  Rose, shouldn’t you be counteracting the rumors? Thus far, I’d seen little signs of her accomplishing that goal. At least, not with my Mother’s generation.

  “What do you have in your hand?” Mother asked.

  I still clutched the handkerchief enclosing the azalea clipping. During the fall, I’d clenched my hand. I swallowed as I loosened my grip, hoping I hadn’t done irreparable damage. The few dents in the handkerchief smoothed. I’d have to wait to assess the specimen at home.

  “A clipping.”

  “Oh?” She leaned closer, as if her gaze would incinerate the fabric and reveal the treasure it held. “A clipping of what?”

  A tall man placed himself in our path. “Lady Valentia,” Mr. Dendroid said stiffly. He inclined his head to Mother then to me. “Miss Annesley, I haven’t seen you since the performance.”

  I mustered a wan smile. “Forgive me. I took a stroll around the garden to clear my head.”

  “To clear it of what? The music was divine.”

  “Indeed it was,” I agreed. His hostile expression eased.

  When he examined me closer, I shifted nearer to Mother’s form.

  Dendroid said, “Miss Annesley, are you quite all right?”

  “Yes,” I said quickly. “Perfectly well. Invigorated, even. The music and the, er, walk, you know.”

  Although it was difficult to tell with so stiff an expression, the slight creases around his mouth might indicate a frown. Or merely indigestion.

  Rose flounced up to join us. “Francine, there you are.” She noticed Mother’s presence with alarm. “Lady Valentia, I didn’t see you there. Might I borrow Francine for a moment?”

  “Certainly not,” Mother said. She delivered the words as serene as if she uttered them on a calm, cool day, rather than one layered with scandal. She had poise in abundance, unlike me.

  Sweat beaded on my upper lip at the thought of getting caught. My reputation likely wouldn’t survive the most miniscule of smirches.

  Mother added, “Francine has found a clipping. We must return home posthaste.”

  Knowing Mother, she likely thought that a valid reason to leave a luncheon gathering. Bless her. I’d happily use the excuse to my advantage.

  Unfortunately, Rose refused to be deterred. “You can’t leave so soon,” she said. “Francine has barely had any time at all to socialize.” She glared at me pointedly.

  I studied the cloudless sky. Perhaps I ought to have made some effort before disappearing into the gardens, no matter how great the lure.

  Mother said, “I’m afraid Lord Valentia has already called for the carriage to be brought out front.”

  Mother’s excuses were getting flimsier by the minute.

  As Rose opened her mouth to combat that excuse, I leaned forward and whispered, “I ripped my skirt.” Only four words, spoken so low I wasn’t sure she heard.

  Understanding dawned over her face. “Oh.” She cleared her throat. “In that case, I’ll see you tomorrow at the Chatfield ball.”

  “Certainly,” I said with a smile.

  Caressing her stomach, Rose said, “Edmund, would you kindly escort me to the chairs? I must sit. My condition, you know.”

  “Of course,” he said.

  I let out a breath of relief when he moved off.

  “Quickly,” Mother murmured in my ear. “Before someone else speaks to us.” With her arm entwined in mine, she struck a beeline for the doorway.

  We reached the cool shade of the hall without incident. Once we were out of sight of the gathering, Mother’s stiff form relaxed. She beamed down at me, looking for all the world like she’d already forgotten the scandal I’d mired myself in.

  “Now show me this clipping,” she said with glee.

  With a rueful shake of the head, I relinquished my prize.

  Chapter Ele
ven

  “Francine.”

  The whisper roused me from sleep. Darkness weighed against my eyes. I must have imagined the voice.

  A hand pressed over my mouth, silencing me. I struggled. My thrashing jarred my ankle, making me cry out. The sound weakened against the callused palm pinning me to the bed.

  “Hush,” Julian said. “You’ll wake the household.”

  I stilled. Was I dreaming? He used to sneak into my bedroom to rouse me in the middle of the night as children, but we were no longer children.

  When he retracted his hand, I asked, “Why are you in my bedroom?”

  “You had to leave abruptly this afternoon. I wanted to ensure you were all right.”

  All right? I couldn’t begin to figure that out, with the pressure of Papa’s ultimatum on my shoulders and the rumors flitting about. I released a long, heartfelt sigh. He shifted to gather me closer.

  A shriek pierced my ears. “Take that!”

  A heavy thump sounded and Julian stumbled toward me. “Run, Miss Francine,” Pauline shouted. She brandished what, from its shadow, I judged to be a candlestick holder.

  I tottered to my feet and stepped between her and Julian, hands raised. “Pauline, wait! I’m fine. He wasn’t accosting me. This is Julian. You met him yesterday, remember?”

  She hesitated, lowering the makeshift weapon. “Your friend from Leicestershire?”

  Julian groaned, rubbing his head. “The same.” His voice was tight.

  A moment passed in silence as Pauline processed the information. “What is he doing in your bedroom?”

  I half turned toward him. “I asked him the same thing.”

  Rapid footsteps descended down the hall. Pauline’s shriek had woken the house. She shuffled forward, hand outstretched to Julian. He backed away.

  “Quick,” she said. “Hide under the bed.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  I joined Pauline in urging him to his knees and then behind the hanging coverlet. I sat on the bed over his position, using my legs to obscure him further.

  Papa barged into the room so forcibly the door banged into the wall. I cringed.

  “Francine, are you safe?”

  “Here, Papa.”

  The shadows were quickly chased away by someone bearing a candle down the hall. Mother appeared with the light.

  Papa tried to shoo her away with his hands. “Blast it, Bess. I told you to stay in bed.” He put his body squarely between her and my room. The halo of light outlined him until he resembled an avenging angel. “Are you hurt, Francine? I heard a scream.”

  “That was me,” I said. “I had a nightmare. I’m sorry.”

  He peered into the room, searching for an intruder nonetheless. “You aren’t being attacked?”

  I mustered as genuine a smile as I could under the circumstances. “Not at all.”

  He grunted.

  “Sorry to wake you,” I added. “It won’t happen again.”

  Grumbling under his breath, Papa left, lumbering back to his bed. He dismissed the servants who had hurried down from the noise.

  Mother lingered in the doorway. She shielded the candle flame with one hand. “Are you certain you’re all right?” she asked.

  Julian stirred beneath me. “I’m perfect,” I said quickly. I inwardly cringed at my choice of words. Who said that?

  Still, Mother hesitated. “Would you like to talk about your nightmare?”

  My face softened into a genuine smile. “No, Mother. But thank you for offering.”

  She nodded. “Good night, then.” She shut the door to the hall. The light faded as she, too, returned to bed.

  Pauline retreated to her temporary pallet in the dressing room, put there so she could help me in the night with my injured ankle. She returned with a lit candle, which she then set on the vanity. At least now we could see. I coaxed Julian out from under the bed.

  He dusted off his breeches with an irritable expression. “You couldn’t have hidden me in the wardrobe or the dressing room?”

  I grinned at him. “Sneak into women’s bedchambers often, do you?”

  His sour expression dissolved as he matched my smile.

  Pauline crossed her arms over her chest. “Why are you here in the middle of the night?”

  He glanced at me but answered her. “I thought Francine could use a walk in the park.”

  “At midnight?” I asked, incredulous.

  “It’s only half past ten,” he said. “You went to bed much earlier than I anticipated.”

  It had been a long couple days. For all of us. Frankly, I was surprised Papa and Mother had been asleep as well. Or…

  No, I did not want to contemplate what they had been doing if they hadn’t been sleeping.

  I shook my head ruefully. “Go home, Julian,” I said, forgetting for a moment that his home was leagues from here.

  He reached for my hand. His glove was cold against my skin, but I squeezed his fingers back nonetheless. Pauline watched with a small smile on her face.

  “Come out with me,” Julian said. “Forget about the ton and their machinations for a while.”

  “It could be good for you,” Pauline added.

  I shook my head. “In the morning.” I tugged my hand from Julian’s grasp and tried to shoo him toward the door. “It wouldn’t be proper to go now.”

  He didn’t budge. “Who will see? We’re still friends, aren’t we?”

  “Yes.” The best of friends, which made my recent desire to kiss him all the more confusing. “But…”

  His eyes twinkled. “I found a rare plant.”

  Damn him. He knew those words were akin to magic to me.

  I narrowed my eyes. “In Hyde Park?”

  “The very same.”

  I’d been over every inch of those grounds several times over the years. With so little greenery in London, I didn’t have much to study. He couldn’t possibly have found a plant I’d overlooked.

  Had he? I hadn’t had much time this summer to study Hyde Park for new growth.

  Pauline sensed the change in my mood. “I’ll ready a walking gown for you.” She wagged her finger at Julian. “You, sir, should leave. She’ll meet you outside.”

  He grinned and acceded to her request.

  Pauline dressed me quickly. She didn’t bother brushing my hair properly, seeing as it had been tightly wound in a braid for bed. She wove a fresh braid through my hair to ensure that no stray strands had escaped. My appearance was readied inside ten minutes.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmured, “for keeping you up so late. You should be asleep.”

  Her gaze was lively with mirth, a joke to which I wasn’t privy. All she said was, “I’m happy to help you, Miss Francine.”

  So happy, it seemed, that she accompanied me downstairs, scouting out the way to ensure we didn’t cross any servants. She snuck me out a side door.

  “At least go back to sleep,” I begged her.

  “I won’t wait up,” she said. “And I promise not to whack you with a candlestick when you return.”

  I chuckled. “I appreciate it.”

  I slipped into the cool night air.

  Julian waited on the corner of my property, pacing. His form was lit by the wan yellow glow of a streetlamp at the nearest junction.

  The moment he spotted me, he stopped in his tracks. A broad smile lit his face. “This way,” he said, catching me by the hand. The cold leather of his gloves against my bare hands sent a chill along my arm.

  He tugged me forward and tucked my hand onto his arm. “How is your ankle?” he asked. “I have a hack waiting around the corner.”

  “Well enough to walk,” I answered. I’d snuck out of the house with relative ease.

  We strolled along the street to the hack. Julian helped me inside and instructed the driver to take us to Hyde Park. He climbed into the hack and shut the door as the driver urged the horses to a quick trot.

  To my surprise, he sat directly beside me, not across from me. Then ag
ain, nothing about this midnight carriage ride was proper. He raised his arm over my shoulders and enfolded me against his side.

  “Are you tired?” he asked. “You can sleep while we ride.”

  I laughed. “If I do that, you’ll have a devil of a time rousing me.”

  “I roused you easily enough only moments ago.” The light of a streetlamp shone through the window, lighting his grin for a brief moment.

  I smiled back, too weary to retort. Maybe he was right—I did need an evening away from the ton and my predicament.

  I shifted closer to his warm body, finding a comfortable position. I laid my head on his shoulder. I expected it to be a bit bony, but because of my height I ended up at just the right position to rest against the fleshy part. He made a surprisingly comfortable headrest.

  “Tell me about this plant you saw.”

  “You know I can’t do it justice.” Mirth infused his voice. “I once described a rose to you as ‘red.’”

  I chuckled. “Well, you weren’t wrong.”

  “I also wasn’t very observant, as you pointed out for the next hour.” He shuddered. “It was very like schoolwork. I think you made me memorize the parts.”

  I lifted my head. “I did not.”

  “You made me repeat them so often, it felt as though you did.”

  I smiled. “You didn’t get it wrong after that, did you?”

  “Of course I did.” He barked out a laugh. “You know I have no head for that kind of thing.”

  “No?” I shifted to study his face while we spoke. “I’d wager you could describe your crops to the tiniest detail.”

  He shook his head. “Not even if you threatened my life. But I can look at them and tell you if they look…wrong.”

  I laughed. “Is that the technical term?”

  “You know what I mean.” He threw his free hand into the air. “Weak. Sickly.”

  I grinned. I was only teasing him. Judging by the half smile turning up one corner of his mouth, he knew it.

  “You did an admirable job describing the problem with your crops. The one I helped with.”