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

by Harmony Williams

“You care for her.” Speaking the words out loud cut me like a knife. I tried not to show it.

  He looked at me with surprise. “Alyssa? I told you—”

  “You told me that you didn’t love her, and that might be true. But you care for her, I can see it.”

  He stared at the contents of his plate. “I suppose I do. We’ve always been friends. Not like you and me, but friends. She’s endured more than anyone should have to.”

  In a way, we were going to voluntarily endure the same hardship. Neither Julian nor I would die, but it would amount to the same pain. I didn’t know whether it was better or worse that he was destined to marry a woman he got along with and respected.

  I picked at the wrinkles in my skirt, smoothing them. “Why did you come to London? You never said.” Would it have been easier if he’d stayed in Leicestershire?

  But then I would never have known what it was like to kiss him, to be held in his arms. We would never have made amends over his prolonged silence. No, I wouldn’t trade these past few days for anything. Not even my untarnished reputation.

  Julian shrugged. “Mother was adamant I see London once before I’m married. I’m not sure why.”

  Smiling, I teased, “You mean all the soot in the air hasn’t captured your heart?”

  “The lack of plants,” he countered with a smirk.

  “The traffic.”

  “The lack of stars at night.”

  “The constant press of bodies.” I shook my head. “Seems to me the country is much preferable.”

  Upon meeting my gaze, his smile faded. “There’s one thing the country doesn’t have.”

  “What is that?”

  “You.”

  My lips parted, but I didn’t know what to say. I stole a tart from his plate to buy me a minute to think and regain control over my emotions. After a moment, I confessed in a whisper, “I wish things were different.” I love you. I didn’t dare speak those words out loud in public.

  The back of his hand brushed against mine, sending a tingle of awareness up my arm before he retreated to a proper distance once more. A distance we would have to maintain for the rest of our lives.

  Chapter Nineteen

  My heart thundered as I knocked on the door to Papa’s study. He hadn’t asked to speak with me since the incident with Julian.

  His voice, muffled from within, called for me to enter. Straightening my shoulders, I opened the door. The interior was dark, lit only by a single candle. Sunlight seeped beneath the heavy drapes, not quite strong enough to penetrate the cracks. The shadows cast an unforgiving air over Papa’s face. He sat staring into a snifter of brandy with a letter open on the desk in front of him. His dark, hooded eyes penetrated me as I walked in.

  “Francine.” He straightened in his seat, setting the glass away.

  I crossed the room with a stiff stride. Although the chair beckoned, I didn’t sit. Instead, I locked my knees into place. If I sat, I might never stand up again.

  His gaze caught mine and held it. “I received a letter from Lord Cheswick this morning. He, Lady Cheswick, and their nephew will be coming to dinner after all.”

  I fisted my hand to hide the sudden tremor. If they still wished to socialize with us, that must mean Sir Scandent still wanted to marry me. He was my one shining beacon of hope, at least in Papa’s eyes. From the drawn look on Papa’s face, I didn’t want to know what he had offered to entice Scandent not to withdraw his proposal. No doubt I was being offered on a silver platter, amongst a horde of treasure.

  Papa’s voice turned stony. “I expect you to be on your best behavior. I trust I don’t have to tell you how important this is for our family. I’ve gone to considerable length to ensure that his interest didn’t wane despite the recent scandal.”

  As I’d suspected—he had bribed Scandent after all.

  I swallowed around a thick lump of dread in my throat. Maintaining eye contact became too much to bear. I studied the varnished wood desk.

  No. I don’t want to marry him. I can’t.

  Instead, my traitorous mouth whispered, “Of course.”

  Why? Why couldn’t I stand up to him the way I had Mary? Although she was angry with me, she remained my friend. Surely he would love me just as unconditionally. He was my father.

  But he’d never approved of me. I did the same things, acted the same way that he found charming in Mother. In me, those aspects were flaws. There was nothing I could do to win his approval.

  Nothing except marry Scandent. I didn’t know if I could do that. I didn’t want that future.

  “May I go?” My voice warbled a bit.

  I barely waited for his nod before I hurried from the room. As I reached the corridor, I found Pauline waiting next to the door. She caught me by the hand and leaned close.

  “The corner of the garden opposite the hothouse. Go now.”

  She sounded urgent. Desperate for a moment of solitude among the plants, I wiped my cheeks and did as she bid.

  The air outside was balmy. The sun hid behind clouds today, yet it seemed to trap in the humidity. I took a deep breath, gathering myself, before I turned down the garden path. It cut in a square around our property, one side leading toward the hothouse and the others forming a complete circuit. Bushes and trees provided shade and privacy along the path. As I strolled slowly, so as not to agitate my ankle, I tried not to face the eventuality my father had set down before me. The future I didn’t want.

  I couldn’t run from it, as much as I’d like to. Would I accept if Scandent asked for my hand? The thought of kissing him and coupling with him made me sick to my stomach. I couldn’t do it. Perhaps it was selfish of me to think first about myself and second about my family’s standing, but this was more than a week’s torture. It would be years, decades. It would be for the rest of my life.

  What could I do about it? Ruining my reputation hadn’t worked, except to scare off anyone else interested in marrying me. I needed a new plan, and I had precious little time to form one. For the first time in my life, I considered running away.

  That will cause more problems than it will solve. I swallowed hard and tried not to think of the consequences such an action would have if I went through with it. For the moment, I craved the fantasy.

  As I turned the far corner of the walkway, a figure shifted position. Nestled on the ground between two bushes, with his head buried in his knees, was Julian. He lifted his head at my approach, no doubt alerted by the crunch of my footsteps on the gravel. Although I wasn’t as surprised to find him here a second time, especially considering Pauline’s insistence that I come, I stopped short at the look on his face. His brows were drawn together, his mouth turned down. His eyes were a bit bloodshot. My heart pinched at the sight of his misery.

  I lowered myself onto the ground next to him. I wanted to hold him, but I didn’t dare.

  “What happened?” I kept my voice low, in case anyone crossed from the manor to the hothouse. I didn’t bother asking if something was amiss; it was clear from his demeanor that it was.

  He stared at his hands. “Alyssa arrived in Town this morning.”

  The blood rushed in my ears at the sound of her name. Why? Julian and I hadn’t been intimate since I’d learned the name of his fiancée, but I’d still thought we had more time. Time before reality slipped in and we were ripped apart.

  Are you going to tell her about me? I pressed my lips together. There seemed no point in asking; it would only hurt Alyssa further to know that her future husband was in love with somebody else. Would he one day feel the same for her as he did for me?

  I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. “I take it you weren’t expecting her.”

  “No.” He fell silent for a moment, then added, “She came to purchase her wedding trousseau.”

  A lump formed in my throat. I forced myself to speak around it. “When is the wedding?”

  “Too soon.” He buried his head in his hands. When his shoulders started to shake, I
realized that he must be crying. I’d never seen him reduced to tears before. Even as a child, if he fell down, he stood up again and continued walking.

  Tentatively, I rubbed my hand over his back. Touching him, even something as simple as this, made me ache for more. To be at liberty to embrace him, to kiss him. It hurt, how much I wanted that. His eyes were red-rimmed when he lifted his head. Tears shone in his eyes, but he didn’t let them fall. “I can’t do it,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I can’t marry her.”

  Then don’t. Ask her to cry off.

  He wouldn’t. I couldn’t ask him to do that, not even for me. It wouldn’t be fair, and it might ruin our friendship. Right now, the only beacon carrying me forward was the knowledge that I would still have him in my life in some way.

  When he looked at me, he paused to trace the curve of my cheek. A tear leaked from the corner of his eye. He brushed it impatiently away. “How can anyone expect me to marry her, to touch her and kiss her, when I’m in love with you?”

  My eyes stung with unshed tears. “Don’t,” I whispered. It was probably the most selfish word I’d ever uttered in my life.

  His face crumpled in pain. “I have to. It was the last request my brother ever made of me. Jonathan and Jeremy are already married, so it isn’t as though I could ask them instead…” He shut his eyes, shaking his head. Softly, in an agonized voice, he whispered. “I have to.”

  “I know.”

  I’d known that the moment the plea had left my lips. I hadn’t truly believed that he would turn his back on such a promise. In fact, if he had, I didn’t know if he would still be the man I loved. Julian was so many things, and one of them was honorable. Loyal. He loved his family. I cherished that about him.

  Improper or not, I couldn’t watch him cry in front of me and not offer him comfort. I wrapped my arms around him and held him close. He wept into my shoulder.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  His arms snaked around my middle and my stomach flipped. This might be the last time he ever held me this close. The thought pushed my composure past its limit and I started crying, too. At least he was too distraught to notice. I wanted him for myself. I didn’t know if I could ever love another the same way I loved him. He was and always had been my best friend on top of everything else.

  After a moment, he lifted his head and rested his forehead against the curls at my temple. He kissed my cheek softly. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to burden you—”

  “I’d rather you came to me than tried to endure this alone.”

  At some point in the future, before my impending wedding, it would be me crying on his shoulder. If his future wife would allow it.

  “It’s an impossible choice.” My voice was hollow.

  “It is.” His didn’t hold a shred more hope than mine did. “I don’t know what to do.”

  Run away with me. Our problems would both be solved if we eloped. Yes, we would be letting down our families. We would be disappointing some people in our lives and hurting others outright. But we would be together. If love conquered all, wouldn’t that be enough?

  “We have to face the consequences of what we’ve done, even if it isn’t fair.”

  For Julian, that had been making a promise to his brother that he hadn’t known might tear him asunder. For me, it was ruining my reputation. The only way to fix the strife caused by both situations would be to marry matches we couldn’t fathom living our lives with. At least he had a camaraderie with his future wife. I had nothing to look forward to in my marriage, not even friendship.

  He trembled in the circle of my arms as he seemed unwilling to pull away. I didn’t want to, either. I sat in silence, holding him, and wishing with all my heart that we could somehow make the situation different.

  “I will always love you,” I whispered into the silence.

  He leaned his head against my shoulder once more. “Always.”

  Chapter Twenty

  I gripped Pauline’s wrist as she set down the brush. Sympathy encroached on her expression. “Are you nervous?”

  I wasn’t nervous; I was petrified. In only a few short moments, I would face the dinner party I’d dreaded all day. But I swallowed and admitted to nothing. I still held a glimmer of hope that only Rose and Mary would attend.

  “I don’t want to do this.”

  She laid her hand over mine. “Don’t give up hope, Miss Francine. You’re much more intelligent than most. You can do anything you want.”

  I released her and stepped into the hall. Mother’s voice drifted from downstairs as she greeted one of the guests. I paused to steel myself for a grueling night to come. Maybe Pauline was right. I could do anything I set my mind to. At the moment, I had to find a way to avoid marrying Sir Scandent. If I didn’t permit him to corner me, he wouldn’t have the opportunity to propose. It had worked for Rose in the past. Perhaps it would work for me, too.

  As I descended the stairs, I noticed Mother disappear into the formal parlor alongside Rose. It heartened me to know both my dear friends lingered nearby to offer their support, albeit in very different ways. Taking a deep, steadying breath, I followed them into the room.

  Lord and Lady Cheswick had already arrived with their nephew. From the lack of gentlemen present in the parlor, the men had likely adjourned to Papa’s study to pass the time. I inclined my head to the gray-haired Lady Cheswick. The little old lady beamed at me. Hadn’t she heard the rumors about me? She sat beside Rose’s slim form. My friend had likely chosen that seat to serve as a buffer between Lady Cheswick and Mary, who lounged lackadaisically in the winged-back chair. I didn’t know where to sit, so I stood by Mary.

  Rose conducted the conversation, a relief. My stomach knotted to such a degree I doubted I could utter a word, let alone entertain the guests. Before long, Papa entered with the gentlemen. Lord Cheswick’s portly form followed Papa, then Hartfell and Sir Scandent himself. I picked invisible bits of fluff from my gloves but still felt Scandent’s leer as he looked me over.

  I beseeched Mother with my gaze, but she didn’t seem to notice my alarm. She offered pleasantries to Lord Cheswick.

  She clapped her hands in delight. “Now that we’re all here, shall we proceed to the dining room?”

  The announcement saved me from having to speak to Scandent, at least. Unfortunately, it didn’t spare me his company altogether. He offered me his arm.

  “Miss Annesley, if I may escort you?”

  The stares of everyone present incised me. I placed my hand on his sleeve. “Of course.”

  He pulled me closer, settling his hand over mine. The weight of it sent uncomfortable chills up my arm. I snapped my fan open with my free hand and used it to shield my face. We led the procession into the dining room, where he pulled out my chair and settled himself beside me. I shut my fan and placed it on the table beside the cutlery. I couldn’t shelter myself throughout the meal.

  The servants served cold pea soup as the first course, my favorite. I plied my spoon to my bowl, avoiding the stilted conversation.

  The courses dragged on almost unbearably. At one point, Scandent’s fingers brushed my kneecap. I firmly removed his hand. I stabbed my fish viciously with my fork to ensure he received the message not to touch me. If only Mother had seated Mary a bit closer to me. Rose shot me a concerned look. She, too, sat on the far end of the table.

  The moment the servants cleared the last of the dishes away, I stood abruptly. “Shall we ladies adjourn to the parlor for a sip of sherry?” I peered around the table desperately, hoping for a volunteer. Mary looked as though she might, but Rose put a restraining hand on her arm.

  Why, Rose?

  Beside me, Scandent made a show of standing. “Actually, Miss Annesley, I hoped you might join me for a turn around the gardens. I know how you dearly love flowers.”

  I loved all plants, not only flowers. I couldn’t refuse without casting a grievous insult not only on him, but also on his esteemed aunt and uncle. Fearing to say so
mething out of turn, I laid my hand on his arm.

  Rose jumped to her feet. “What an excellent idea. We should all go. Mary, would you care to accompany us?”

  “No.”

  Rose kicked her under the table.

  “Oh, very well.” She glowered as she leaned down to rub her shin.

  Once again, Scandent and I headed the procession. Rose and Hartfell took up position behind us, with Mary in the rear. I led them outside.

  The sun had set. Bugs flitted around the various lanterns scattered around the walk. Mother must have instructed the servants to light them, anticipating this turn of events. Usually I ventured to the hothouse to admire plants, a far from romantic location. I nearly suggested we visit. I bit the tip of my tongue to curb the desire.

  Scandent tugged me along the square path with enthusiasm. When we reached a bench, he prompted me to sit. Mary strode forward to take the seat next to me, but Rose caught her by the hand. She shook her head. To my mortification, the group moved on, essentially leaving Scandent and me alone.

  He took me by the hand. Although I wore gloves, his touch curdled my stomach. He sat so close to me our knees touched. Would he kiss me? I feared he might try.

  “Miss Annesley, would you do me the honor of giving me your hand in marriage?”

  That was my proposal? Nothing about how he’d fallen violently in love with me or looked forward to spending the rest of our days together? I studied his gaze. He appeared smug, superior even. He felt none of the tender things a man should feel for a woman upon marriage.

  I snatched my hand away. “No, I will not.”

  He reached out again, but I stood, stumbling out of reach. I turned to him with determination. If he refused to pretend I was dear to him, I felt no remorse at all in rejecting him.

  He also stood. With a laugh, he said, “Of course you will. What other choice do you have?”

  The weight of his words threatened to pull me to the ground. But I was made of sterner stuff. I would weather this, and anything that may follow. I lifted my chin.

  “I have any choice I please, which is not you.”