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

by Harmony Williams

  His mouth settled in an infuriating smirk. “Of course it is me, my dear. Who else will have you?”

  I raised my chin. “I don’t need to marry. I would rather live as a dull, piteous spinster than marry you.”

  Rage twisted his features. The air thickened with the imminent urge to do violence.

  With my heartbeat battering my rib cage, I retreated behind a bush. For a moment, I feared he would lunge over the bramble to strangle me. The obstacle stymied his advance.

  “We’ll see. Obviously your father hasn’t yet taught you the ways of the world. You’ll learn soon enough.” He turned his back. “See you at the wedding.”

  He was right, of course. My legs threatened to collapse. Papa would force me to marry him. I didn’t have a choice, after all. I groped for the bench as tears clouded my vision. What could I do? I couldn’t leave. Without my dowry, I wouldn’t be able to survive. I could attempt to find work as a governess, but what family would hire a woman with a reputation as marred as mine, let alone one turned out by her own father?

  The very last nail had been pounded into my coffin. All I wanted was a man who understood and encouraged my scientific pursuits. A man who loved me. A man whom I loved. If that man was Julian, all the better.

  I wiped away my tears, but more sprang to replace them.

  “Did that lobcock hurt you?”

  I shook my head at Mary’s fierce question. A moment later, she sat beside me. She patted my shoulder awkwardly.

  “He didn’t…”

  “No.” I wiped my eyes again. I laid my head on Mary’s shoulder. She was a good deal bonier than Rose, but I took comfort in her presence nonetheless. A fresh wave of tears stung my eyes. “What am I going to do, Mary?”

  “You told him no, didn’t you?”

  I nodded. A lock of her hair tickled my nose. I blew at it, but it only came back. “I tried, but he wouldn’t accept my rejection.”

  “I’ll make him accept it,” Mary said darkly. The glimmer of a smile teased my lips as I imagined the tortures she concocted for Scandent. In fact, I almost encouraged her to confront him. But it wouldn’t help.

  “Your father can’t force you to marry him.”

  I pushed myself upright. “He can, Mary. Of course he can. Where will I go if he turns me out? I’ll starve. I don’t have any money or any means of earning some.”

  “You’ll stay with me.”

  I met her gaze. The lamplight glinted off her spectacles, obscuring her eyes. She said it with such a flat, matter-of-fact tone, I wondered why I hadn’t considered the solution before. In her eyes, it must be the obvious answer.

  “You’re always welcome.”

  How could I, for a second, have believed I relied only on my own devices? My reputation might be forever mired in scandal, but in no way did I stand alone.

  I clutched Mary’s hand. “Thank you,” I murmured. I blinked away my tears.

  She squeezed me back. “It will all work out, you’ll see. By this time next week, everyone will have forgotten about your scandal, anyway.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Didn’t you hear?” She laughed. “Lord Sutton was seen kissing a boy. I’m certain that’s a much bigger scandal than you visiting a friend.”

  Among other things. I liked my solitude; I didn’t know what I thought of the prospect that it might only be temporary. Not knowing what else to say, I released her hand and murmured, “Let’s go inside.”

  Mother met me inside the door. She looked bewildered and not a little hurt. “Would you mind?” I asked Mary. “I’d like to speak to Mother alone.”

  She nodded. “I should be getting home, anyhow.” She slipped past, continuing through the house toward the front.

  Mother waited until she strode out of earshot before beseeching me. “Francine, Sir Phillip just informed us you spurned his suit.”

  “I did.” My back ached from holding myself so straight, but if I relaxed for a moment, I feared I would wilt to the ground.

  Mother shook her head. “I don’t understand. I did everything you asked. I found you a man willing to allow you to continue with your scientific pursuits. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  The forlorn look on her face threatened to undo me. I softened my expression and clasped her hand. “It was, Mother. But I realized that isn’t what I want anymore.” I squared my shoulders. “I think it’s time I talked to Papa.”

  “He’s in the study.”

  The enormity of what I planned to say weighed down on me as I knocked on the study door. Papa’s muffled voice bade me to enter. When I opened the door, he sat behind his desk, nursing a brandy. His eyebrows snapped together as he beheld me. He slapped the tumbler onto his desk as he stood. It shattered. Amber liquid stained the wood.

  I stormed into the room.

  “Sit down, young lady.”

  “No.” I cut short his tirade with a slash of my hand. “I have something to say now, Papa. You sit down.”

  Whether due to astonishment or the tone of my voice, he reluctantly sat. I clasped my hands behind my back to hide their tremors.

  “I will not marry a man I do not love.”

  I raised a hand to stall Papa’s argument, no doubt contesting romantic love as essential criteria for marriage. “At the very least, I want a man who has the same measure of respect for me as you had for Mother upon your marriage.”

  Papa said nothing, but the heavy set of his eyebrows and the stiff set of his jaw warned that he hadn’t changed his mind.

  “I will marry a man of my choosing, who I deem suitable, or I will not marry at all. And I will not give myself to God.”

  His mouth dropped open as he prepared to speak. I cut him off, raising my voice.

  “If you do not accept my terms for marriage, I will leave this household. I don’t care if you withhold my dowry. I’ll find my own way, and Papa, I’ll be perfectly good at it. I might even join a botany expedition.”

  His mouth twisted. “You’re a woman. No one would take you.”

  I stood taller. “Yes, Papa. I am a woman. And any expedition would be lucky to take me, as I know more about botany than most men. Whatever I end up doing, it will be my decision. I am as intelligent as a man, I am as knowledgeable as a man, and I will not live my life by strictures laid down by anyone other than myself.”

  My knees threatened to buckle, but I held firm. “Good night, Papa.”

  I strode past Mother’s shocked form on my way out of the room.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I made it all the way to the door to the hothouse, my sanctuary, before moisture leaked down my cheeks. I wiped the tears away. I’d cried enough already for a future I would never have. Now I had to make the most of the choices that did lie ahead of me.

  I opened the door. My orchid beamed at me from the workshop table, its glossy leaves spread wide. Its petals were pearly with health, as though it hadn’t wilted near to death only days past.

  I shook my head. What a fickle plant.

  Although my orchid appeared to be thriving without me, I always had something to tend, and I had never needed to lose myself in my work more than I did at this moment. My heartbeat stuttered as I relived the confrontation in my head. I’d done it. I’d finally stood up to Papa and told him how I felt.

  But had it helped at all?

  When the hothouse door opened, I flinched. Was that a servant, come to tell me that I’d been turned out? Papa would never encroach upon the hothouse. That was my and Mother’s territory.

  “Francine, darling?”

  Not Papa at all, but Mother. Hastily, I ran the backs of my fingers over my cheeks, drying my tears so she wouldn’t see. My face probably looked splotchy. I squared my shoulders. “Yes, Mother?”

  As I turned, she stepped closer. Uncertainty was written in the hesitation in her steps and the crow’s feet framing her eyes. A furrow formed between her eyebrows. She must have noticed I’d been crying. I looked away.

  “Would you
like some help tending your plants?”

  Plants. That was what Mother and I had in common. It was the way we communicated. Inquiries into the health of our respective plants were akin to asking about each other’s health. Sharing clippings, or notes, or our opinion on the newest article in the Royal Botanical Gazette was our manner of saying “I love you.” I didn’t think I’d ever had a serious conversation with my mother that didn’t involve plants in one way or another.

  I took a deep, shuddering breath and shook my head. “No, thank you. I can handle my plants on my own.”

  I was a grown woman, capable of taking care of myself. Perhaps I’d never tried, always content in staying in the controlled environment of my father’s house. Here, I was provided with everything I needed. I didn’t have to work for it. Out of his shadow, I would be subject to the glaring realities of the world. Simply because I’d never had to weather them didn’t mean that I couldn’t. I was hardier than I looked.

  Mother fell silent. She crossed to her side of the workbench, her expression drawn. As she reached the corner, she hesitated. “I didn’t know you wanted to leave.”

  “The expedition? It’s an option.” That’s all I considered it as right now, an option. If I tried to find my way in the botany world, I would meet with resistance. No doubt, I’d find a lot more men like the swindler who had tried to take Julian’s money than I would men like Julian. Julian genuinely believed in and respected my expertise and intelligence; most men would look at me and see a pampered, freckled young woman with wild hair.

  To be honest, as thrilling as it might be to discover new plants in their natural habitat, I liked the array in my greenhouse. I liked the variety and the ability to take my time in nurturing and studying them. I wouldn’t have that if I went abroad.

  Mother seemed hurt at the prospect. “I’d hoped you might choose to settle down with a man in London. We could keep your spot in the hothouse and you could still come here to tend to your plants. It would be much the same as now, except you’d be sleeping elsewhere.”

  Is that what she wanted? I rubbed at my forehead, only then realizing that I’d tested one of the pots for moisture. I’d likely left a smear on my forehead. As I scrubbed at it, I said, “If you want me to remain here, then why are you and Papa so set on me marrying at all? All of this heartache could have been avoided.”

  Perhaps not all. Julian would still be engaged to someone else. Regardless if an unwanted marriage stared me in the face, I would not have been able to endure the prospect of his marrying another woman without some sting. I suspected I would have been just as heartbroken if I’d received a letter from him with the news.

  Though seeing him in person, learning what it was like to be kissed and held by him, had opened my eyes to what I would be missing when he left. That made it nearly unbearable, but I had to pick myself up and continue with my life. Crying about it wouldn’t change anything. It would only make me and Julian feel worse about the future.

  “Your father wants to see you settled and taken care of. He isn’t getting any younger. If his health should fail before you’re married…”

  The dowry. Why didn’t he settle it on me regardless of my unmarried state? Or could he? I would need to ask Mary; she knew more about legal matters than I did. As a woman, I couldn’t inherit my father’s title or his estate.

  “I don’t care about the dowry. Keep it. I’d rather have my freedom.”

  Mother shook her head. “You say that now, but without him we won’t have the hothouse. We won’t have any means of supporting ourselves. We would be destitute.”

  “We have our minds, and Papa isn’t at death’s door. I don’t know what’s overcome you both. I was perfect just as I was.”

  Albeit that had been before I’d encountered Julian again, before I’d contemplated the way I envisioned my future. I tried to forget what I couldn’t have.

  Mother drummed her fingers on the worktable. “Were you? Perfect, that is. You spend most of your time in the hothouse. These past few months, you’ve seemed lethargic. I’m worried you might be lonely. I only want to see you happy.”

  Swallowing hard, I looked down. Had I been out of sorts these past few months? “That might have been when Julian stopped writing.”

  “Your friend from…”

  Mother trailed off. What had she intended to say—my friend from the Carnavon townhouse? Julian was more than a friend. We both knew it.

  “Julian Beckwith, yes.”

  “You love him. You have all along. Why did you lie to me when I asked?”

  I hadn’t known I loved him then. I hadn’t realized what an integral part of my life he was. Tears welled in my eyes. I squeezed my eyelids shut, hoping to contain them.

  Fabric rustled. A moment later, Mother wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Why don’t we go sit in the garden? It’s more soothing there.”

  The lanterns were still out, lining the walkway. Mother guided me only as far as the bench. We sat side by side. It was hard to believe that less than an hour ago, I’d rejected my first proposal here. My only proposal.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Mother asked. She clasped my hand. “You’ve been wilting. I might have been able to help.”

  “Help how?” My voice was just as watery as my eyes. I wiped my cheeks with my free hand. “Tell Papa? He challenged Julian to a duel when he refused to marry me. It didn’t solve anything.”

  “He said he was engaged. Did you know about this?”

  I swallowed hard around the lump in my throat. “I did. He doesn’t love her. He—” I sounded like I was making excuses. I rubbed my eyes. “He has to marry her. That doesn’t mean he wants to. He made a promise.”

  “A promise to who, to her?”

  I shook my head. “It’s complicated.” I was weary just thinking of the explanation. Besides, it was his to tell, not mine. “He promised someone that he would look out for her if the worst should happen…and it did.” I took a deep breath. “Julian will marry Alyssa Danby.”

  It was painful to say out loud, but I managed it. Maybe now that I’d spoken those words, admitted it to myself, the poison of them was purged from my system and I could begin to heal. I hoped as much, but at the moment it hurt terribly to contemplate, even more so when I recalled him earlier in the day, as distraught over his impending future as I was over mine.

  Mother still held my hand, but she seemed miles away. “You said he doesn’t love her. You’re certain of that?”

  I nodded. He loved me.

  “Does she feel the same?”

  Could Alyssa have fallen in love with Julian? I didn’t even want to think about it. I shrugged. “I don’t know, Mother. I’ve never asked.”

  I could. I could march into Juliana’s townhouse and demand to know the truth. But would it make me feel better? I didn’t think any answer would assuage my grief over the subject. Better I kept my distance.

  Mother hugged me. “Don’t worry about what your father says. I would never let you wither in a harsh environment. You will thrive, Francine. I promise.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Pauline found me as I was leaving the library with a book in hand. Fiction, this time. I badly needed to lose myself in someone else’s struggles. Perhaps when their situation resolved itself to satisfaction, I would find the courage to set my future on a path I found palatable. Despite the fact that the Season had officially come to its close yesterday, Papa had yet to eject me from the house. Perhaps Mother had managed to talk sense into him, after all.

  “Miss Francine, you have a visitor down in the front parlor.”

  I clutched the book to my chest. Was Mary right—could Society have forgiven me for the scandal I’d caused? Once they heard of the way I’d spurned Lord Cheswick’s nephew, they might reconsider.

  “Who is it?” Mary or Rose would have walked in to try to find me themselves; given recent visits, Julian would have snuck into the garden.

  “Grimsby said her name is Miss Danby.”
<
br />   Alyssa? I felt the blood drain from my face. The edges of my vision looked a bit gray and my ears rang. Why would she be here?

  I knew why. We had been friends, once upon a time, before Papa had moved the family to London permanently. Alyssa was here for the polite visit Julian should have made when he’d arrived in Town.

  Pauline gripped my elbow. “Miss Francine, are you all right? Is your ankle giving you pain?”

  No. For once, the blasted appendage seemed to be well on the mend. “Did Grimsby tell her I was at home? Or did she ask for Mother perhaps?” My voice was weak. I leaned against the wall.

  I didn’t want to go down and face her. I couldn’t.

  “She asked for you directly. Grimsby said you were at home, but I can say you’re abed with a headache. Perhaps you ought to lie down for a moment, after all.”

  I pressed my lips together and shook my head. Alyssa was my friend—or she had been. To pretend I was ill when she called would be a grievous insult, especially considering how long it had been since we were in close enough proximity to visit. I had to face her with my head held high, even if she was set to marry the man I loved.

  Did she appreciate him? I hoped she would. Julian was loyal to the bone. He worked hard, even if his teasing attitude might not make it seem that way. He’d put his heart and soul into that plot of land he farmed. I’d never seen it. Now, if Alyssa was to be its mistress, I doubt I ever would. It was painful enough to face her, knowing that she would soon be married to Julian. But to face her after she had known the same intimacy with him that I had? Impossible.

  I steeled myself. “How do I look?”

  Pauline frowned. “You’ve been down in the hothouse, haven’t you? Come, I’ll tidy you up a bit.”

  That must mean I’d gotten a bit of dirt on my hands, face, or dress that I couldn’t see. I submitted to her willingly. Once she’d neatened my appearance, I thanked her and ventured below stairs to face the dragon.

  The moment I saw her, my heart broke again. Why did she have to be beautiful? She’d always been a bit of a gangly child, all elbows and knees, with an elfin shape to her face. Womanhood had been kind to her, filling out her figure and giving a bit more softness to her face. It was still much the same shape, her sharp chin and the shape of her mouth giving her a mischievous air. Her copper hair spilled from the knot in the back of her head to frame her face in perfect corkscrew curls. She was so beautiful she might have been a porcelain doll. Compared to her, I was an unruly weed. Julian would forget about me in a month. If Alyssa had grown up the same kind woman she had been as a child, there was no way he could avoid falling in love with her.