by C. J. Archer
Samuel shoved Bert back against the wall so hard I felt it vibrate through the doorknob still in my hand. "Enough," he snarled. "You sicken me. My own brother…" The crack in his voice worried me, yet I spoke up anyway. The opportunity had presented itself and I had to take it. Had to put an end to the foolishness he harbored about the two of us being together.
"It's true," I whispered. God help me, I hated hearing myself. But letting him think that of me was for the best. One day, he would understand.
He turned to look at me. He was breathing heavily, anger still burning in his eyes, sharpening his features. But slowly, slowly, it dissolved. He uncurled his fingers from Bert's tie and let go. "No, Charity," he said. "It's not."
Why wouldn't he believe me? "Your brother is a wealthy man and I'm afraid old habits are hard to break."
"Stop it."
"This is what I do, Samuel. This is how I survive. You know it. You've known it all along."
Bert smoothed his wrinkled tie and shot his brother a triumphant look.
But Samuel didn't notice. His intense focus drilled into me as if he could look into my thoughts, my soul, and see the real me. "You're right, Charity," he said in a calm voice that I hadn't expected. "I know a great many things about you, including what you've done in the past, both willingly and not. And that's why I don't believe you. I've experienced what you went through and I've felt every emotion you felt at the time. I know you wouldn't sell yourself to him. To anyone."
Hot, burning tears sprang to my eyes. I desperately willed them not to spill, but they spilled anyway. Why did he have to ruin everything and say such a thing? Why couldn't he believe the lie and walk away? It would have been so much easier to have him hating me, or, at the very least, disappointed. I could have gotten away without breaking my own heart, but now, after hearing him defend me to his brother, I knew it was in grave danger of shattering.
"What makes you so sure?" Bert asked defiantly. "She may have changed."
"Because I know that an arrangement like the one you propose would sicken her. No matter how much you deny it, Charity, I can't believe you want it."
"Why would she lie to you?" Bert's defiance had vanished. He sounded genuinely confused and in need of an answer.
"That's between Charity and me."
I couldn't hear any more. Couldn't face seeing Samuel's troubled, sad eyes imploring me to go to him, accept him. The coward within me urged me to flee and I did. I stepped inside the bedroom and shut the door on the Gladstone brothers.
I flung myself on the bed and let my tears flow unchecked. I stayed like that, hardly moving, my mind numb, for a long time. It wasn't until the door opened and Sylvia rushed in that I roused myself.
"Charity," she squeaked, rushing to the bed. "Charity, you have to help me."
I wiped my cheeks and blinked at her. She was in quite a state. Her hair tumbled down her back in blonde waves. The buttons on her jacket were undone, the two sides flapping open to reveal her gown underneath. Her face was pale and pinched as she fought back tears.
"What is it, Sylvia?" I clasped her hands, my own problems momentarily set aside. "What happened?"
"It's awful." Her hands shook inside mine. "So awful."
"Tell me," I said as calmly as I could. "It'll be all right. I'll help you, but you must tell me what happened."
She turned wild, unseeing eyes on me. "I…I'm not entirely sure, but I think I've been compromised."
The hair, the buttons…oh God. Not sweet Sylvia. "Who?" I whispered.
"Lord Malborough."
I gasped. The snake. I hadn't liked him, but I'd not thought him capable of such a thing as this.
"What shall I do, Charity? I was seen."
"Tell me exactly what happened."
She screwed up her face. "I can't."
"You can. Take a deep breath and tell me how he…compromised you."
"That's the thing. I don't remember what happened."
I narrowed my gaze. "Then are you sure you've been compromised?"
"Oh yes. Mrs. Gladstone and Miss Carstairs saw me emerge from his room like this." She indicated her clothing. "What else could have happened?"
I knew Sylvia was an innocent when it came to the sexual relationship between a man and woman, but I didn't think she was completely naive. "Does it feel strange between your thighs?" I asked her. "Is there any pain or unusual sensation?"
"No. But I do feel like I've been kissed on the mouth."
That was a relief. "Then you've been kissed, not compromised."
"It's practically the same thing!" She threw her hands in the air. "I might as well have been lying naked with him. That's what Mrs. Gladstone and Miss Carstairs must think. Soon, the whole world will know."
"They're hardly likely to tell anyone."
She tilted her head to the side. "Oh, Charity, are you really so naive?"
I blinked at her. It was strange hearing my own thoughts flung back at me. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that a lady seen coming out of a gentleman's bedchamber in a state of undress is ruined. Her life is over. She cannot show her face in society again. It's the way things are in our world."
I knew that, of course, yet surely no one could believe Sylvia capable of such a thing with Lord Malborough. On the other hand, no one knew her like we did. Her reputation couldn't protect her in the broader world because she had none.
"It's fortunate that you have very little to do with society anyway."
That earned me a glare so sharp it could have pierced steel. "That is beside the point." She flopped back on the bed and covered her face with her hands. "I cannot believe this has happened! What in God's name possessed me to go into his room in the first place?"
"You truly can't remember?"
She lowered her hands and sighed. "I had a little too much wine to drink. It was all that supernatural talk over dinner that did it. I couldn't bear the thought of the lovely Miss Carstairs thinking us all crackpots for believing in the paranormal. Now she thinks it anyway. If I hadn't ruined myself with Douglas, then I was on the way to becoming a social nobody thanks to this horrid place."
"Sylvia, if anyone's to blame, it's Lord Malborough. I didn't like him before and I certainly don't now. The man ought to be made to pay for what he did to you."
"That's the thing. I don't even like him either, and now everyone knows I kissed him, and worse." She suddenly sat up, her mouth open, her eyes wide. "Tommy," she whispered. "What will he think of me now?"
I placed a hand on her arm and squeezed until she looked me in the eyes. "Don't worry about Tommy. He'll recover." Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise if he found out. Perhaps he would decide that Sylvia loved another and wasn't worth pursuing anymore.
Yet even as I thought it, I knew he would never believe that. He would lay the blame at Malborough's feet, for taking advantage of an intoxicated girl. I only hoped he wouldn't do something nasty to Malborough once he found out.
"It's late and there's nothing we can do tonight," I said. "We'll sort it out tomorrow. I'm sure Mrs. Gladstone and Miss Carstairs can be convinced to overlook the incident."
Sylvia's bottom lip wobbled. She shook her head. "I don't think they will. But we must try."
I hugged her as she cried into my shoulder. As horrible as her situation was, at least it served one good turn. Her troubles distracted me from my own.
***
We emerged together from our bedroom in the morning, determined to right the wrong done to Sylvia. We didn't get more than two feet from the door when Tommy stepped out of the shadows. He must have been waiting for Sylvia.
"What did he do?" he said, voice low.
"Who?" Sylvia asked, blinking those big eyes of hers.
"Don't play games. What did Malborough do to you?"
Sylvia's bottom lip wobbled and her face crumpled. I clasped her hand in mine to lend her my strength and she rallied a little.
"Christ," Tommy muttered. "It's true."
"What
have you heard?" I asked.
"Maud told me Sylvia was seen coming out of Malborough's room last night in…disarray."
If the servants knew then the entire household knew. All except Langley, hopefully.
Tommy dragged a hand through his dark hair and pressed his lips together, as if stopping himself from asking the questions he needed to ask. But he failed. "Did he…? Christ."
Sylvia seemed incapable of answering. She simply shrugged and wouldn't meet his gaze.
"Did he hurt her or force her?" I offered. "No. Did he take advantage of her? Yes, and ruined her reputation in the process."
Tommy wheeled around, presenting us with his back. He swore under his breath and thumped the wall with his fist. Then he strode off without looking back.
"Don't do anything foolish," I called after him.
A nearby door opened and Cara poked her head out. "I heard banging."
"Do you know what's happened?" Sylvia whined. "About me?"
Cara winced then nodded. "The maid told me this morning. Oh, Sylvia. What's to be done?"
"Nothing," Sylvia said heavily. "There's nothing to do. I can't show my face in London, now. I can't go anywhere, not even to the village! Just think how the Butterworths will look down on me."
"They needn't find out," Cara said, appealing to me.
"We'll talk to Mrs. Gladstone and Ebony," I said. "Something can be done, I'm sure." Yet we both knew it was hopeless. Once a young lady was sucked into the well of scandal, she could never claw her way out again. Not only would Sylvia be an outcast, she would never secure a good husband. For someone like Sylvia, a life as a spinster was a prison sentence.
We made our way down to the dining room where Mrs. Gladstone, Ebony, Bert and Samuel were already tucking into bacon, toast and sausages. If I'd thought dinner was a tense affair, breakfast was positively tortuous. Ebony didn't meet anyone's gaze as she sipped her tea, but Mrs. Gladstone's tongue clicked at the sight of Sylvia. If Bert and Samuel noticed, they didn't show it. They hardly took their gazes off me. I wanted to slink away and not see them for the rest of the day, but forced myself to remain. If Sylvia could face her problems, then I could face mine.
In a way, her situation was far worse. Her life was unraveling, her future uncertain, whereas I still had gainful employment to return to and a life away from Frakingham. Nothing had changed. I could endure a few awkward moments between myself, Bert and Samuel. I would, however, be doubly certain never to be left alone with Bert again.
Mrs. Gladstone finished her breakfast just as we sat down with our laden plates. She rose and cleared her throat.
"My dear," she said, peering down her nose at Sylvia, "I ought to tell you that I will speak to your uncle this morning."
Sylvia gasped and almost dropped her plate. "No! Please don't, Mrs. Gladstone."
"It must be done. He ought to know."
"Know what?" Samuel asked. Bert echoed his brother's question.
"Miss Langley was seen emerging from Lord Malborough's room last night."
Samuel stared at Sylvia. "Is that true?" She lowered her gaze and he swore under his breath. "Was it…did he…?" He appealed to me.
"She'd had a little too much wine," I said. "He coaxed her into his room, kissed her and attempted more. She left at that point."
"The bloody cur. Want me to talk to him, Sylvia?"
"And say what?" she cried. "It's as much my fault as his."
"I doubt that," he growled. "I doubt that very much. He took advantage of your state. No gentleman would do that to a lady. Mother, surely you can see how he manipulated her. You can overlook this."
"We cannot. Miss Carstairs and I both saw her leaving. What sort of people would it make us if we turned the other cheek?"
"Kind, forgiving people."
She seemed to consider it.
"We can't dismiss what happened," Ebony said quietly. "Mr. Langley ought to be told. It will be up to him to decide what to do with her, but regardless of his decision, there will be no place for her in society now. I am sorry, Miss Langley," she said gently, her eyes brimming with sympathy. "But you understand that standards cannot be lowered for one and not others. What will become of the world if we did? We'd be no better than the beggars and thieves living on the—" She shot a glance at me. "Than others."
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I'd heard it all before and been disparaged by more formidable people than her.
"It wasn't Sylvia's fault," Samuel ground out. "Why aren't you demanding that Malborough be called out for what he did? Why aren't you shaming him?"
"You know that's not the way it works," Mrs. Gladstone said. To Sylvia, she added, "It would be unfair to your future husband to let him think you innocent. After all, we only have your word for it that nothing more happened. I have to tell your uncle. Besides which, the entire household knows now, including the servants. Once it gets beyond these walls, the whole world will know."
"And who told the servants?" Samuel snapped.
Both Mrs. Gladstone and Ebony wisely kept their mouths shut.
Lord Frakingham took that moment to sail into the dining room. "Good morning," he declared robustly. "Fine morning for ferretting around attics."
Sylvia emitted a small cry and ran from the room. I followed and caught up to her at the base of the staircase.
"It'll be all right," I said, taking hold of her arm so she wouldn't flee on me.
"How?" she cried. "How will it be all right?"
"Perhaps you can go traveling for a while until the scandal blows over."
"It will never blow over," she sobbed. "I'll be stained by this forever."
"Dear Sylvia!" The voice from above us on the staircase boiled my blood. It was Lord Malborough, smiling down like a man without a care in the world. "Hear me out," he said, as she turned to go.
"She doesn't wish to speak to you," I said.
"I think she will after she hears what I have to say."
"Let him talk, Charity," Sylvia whispered, holding a lace handkerchief to her red nose.
I sighed. Perhaps it would do no harm to allow him to apologize. It might lift her spirits somewhat.
"Thank you," he said. He cocked his brow at me, waiting.
"She's staying," Sylvia said, looping her arm through mine and lifting her chin. "Whatever you have to say, say it in front of her."
"Very well." He shifted his stance on the bottom step, but did not come down to our level. "I've thought of a way to fix everything."
"You're going to tell everyone you weren't in your room at the time?" I suggested.
"No. I'm going to marry her."
CHAPTER 9
I should have seen it coming, but I was as surprised as Sylvia by his offer. So surprised that neither of us responded immediately.
"Did you hear me?" he said. "Sylvia? What do you say?"
"I…I…" She began to giggle. It was not the answer I expected.
Malborough looked offended. "You find the thought of marriage to me amusing? I expected you to welcome it. Compared to what you face otherwise, it's paradise."
He thought marriage to him would be paradise? The man was delusional.
Sylvia dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. It was difficult to tell if she was laughing or crying. She seemed to be experiencing some sort of hysteria. "I am sorry, my lord. I don't know what's come over me."
"Call me Douglas. If we are to be married—"
"She hasn't said yes," I told him.
"How can she refuse?"
"Give her time to think about it."
"Why would she want to think? What is there to consider? She can have a pariah's life or one of luxury here as my wife." He sniffed. "Anyway, it's not your place to influence her."
"Charity is allowed an opinion," Sylvia cut in. She seemed to have regained some of her fortitude, thank goodness, although her eyes were still watery. "The decision will ultimately be mine."
"Of course." He gave a brief bow. "So what is it to be?"
<
br /> "I'll let you know this afternoon."
He took her hand and kissed the knuckles. "Until then, dear Sylvia."
He walked off toward the dining room, and greeted Samuel with a cheerful "Good morning" as they passed one another. Samuel looked as if he would challenge him to a duel then and there.
"Samuel," I said curtly before he could do or say anything he would later regret. "Care to join us for a walk?"
"What did he say to you just now?" he asked.
"Guess," I said.
His eyes darkened. "Bloody hell. Did you say yes?" he asked Sylvia.
She pouted. "How do you know he asked me to marry him?"
"It's obvious. He's been flirting with you with no success, and last night he made thoroughly sure he trapped you. Today, he's offering you a way out of that trap. What did you say?"
"That I'll think about it." She screwed up her nose and glanced past him to the dining room. "I'm going to turn him down. I think. Perhaps." She sighed. "Oh, I don't know. Is that the best thing?"
"Let's head outside," I said again. For one thing, we could talk without being overheard, and for another, we were less likely to bump into Tommy. It was a difficult enough decision for her to make without his interference.
We put on jackets and hats and headed into the cool morning air. The sun was out and the day promised to be a fine one. We ambled down to the terraced garden where we could wander in peace near the flowerbeds and enjoy the scents of spring while we discussed the rapidly moving events surrounding Sylvia.
"Do you like him?" I asked her.
"Not at all."
"Then you can't marry him."
"Agreed," Samuel said.
"You're right." Sylvia walked on slowly, her hands clasped behind her back, her head bowed. "On the other hand, what is the alternative? Exile to the continent?"
"Would a visit to Paris and Florence be so bad?" I asked.
She sniffed and I saw that she was about to cry again. "I don't want to leave Frakingham."
I put my arm around her shoulders and hugged her. For all her talk of Paris fashions, society and balls, she was still a young woman who needed the security a home offered. I knew that need too; it was why I wanted to return to the school.
