by Cheryl Holt
Was Miss Etherton that brazen? Was she that bold?
If Miss Etherton was sniffing after Aaron, what was Aaron’s opinion? Did Miss Etherton presume Aaron would marry her? Hadn’t it occurred to her that Aaron might have other obligations?
Gertrude snickered cruelly. Aaron’s fiancée could enlighten Miss Etherton as to what some of those obligations entailed.
During Mrs. Turner’s brief visit, she’d told Gertrude that the staff at Fox Run was in a dither, that Priscilla Cummings and her mother had arrived without warning. Oh, wouldn’t Gertrude like to be a mouse in the corner, watching as they were introduced to Miss Etherton!
The little slattern! The disloyal, fickle slut!
Gertrude detested it when Ignatius was hurt, when he was slighted or made to feel inferior. Fortunately, she’d had the foresight to invite her cousin’s daughter to live with them. The girl was quiet and obedient, and she seemed in awe of Ignatius. She was religiously devout and hung on his every word. So there was a benefit in knowing—after they were shed of Miss Etherton—there was another bride, a more appropriate bride, lined up to take her place.
And—praise be!—Gertrude hadn’t had to do anything to be shed of Miss Etherton. By her own conduct, she’d condemned herself.
Gertrude wished she didn’t ever have to inform Ignatius, but then there was relief in having discovered Miss Etherton’s true character before the wedding. What if they’d found out after the marriage had been finalized? Gad, what then?
Gertrude went to the stairs and started down. Ignatius was in the library, writing his Sunday sermon. When pursuing such an important task, he hated to be interrupted, but this news couldn’t wait.
She knocked and called, “Ignatius?”
“What is it, Mother? I’m busy.”
She opened the door and peeked in. “We must confer. I’m afraid it’s dire.”
“Come in, come in.” His exasperation evident, he motioned for her to enter.
She approached the desk and laid the letter in front of him.
“I’m sorry to be the bearer of these bad tidings, but maybe it’s not so bad. After you’re over the shock of it, you may decide it’s very, very good.”
He scowled. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s a note from Miss Etherton to one of her friends.”
“Where did you get it?”
“It doesn’t matter. Just be glad I did.”
His temper short, he demanded, “Why? What does she say?”
“Read it, Ignatius. Read it and learn everything about Miss Etherton you will ever need to know.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Leave us, Priscilla.”
“Must I, Mother?”
“Yes, I’d like to meet with Aaron alone.”
“May I stay and listen?”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Fine.” Priscilla breathed out an exasperated sigh. “I’ll be in my room. Once the two of you are through, please come upstairs and tell me what he’s decided.”
“I will,” Claudia said.
Then Priscilla turned to Aaron.
“I know you’ve been upset with me, Aaron.”
He made a waffling gesture with his hand. “Let’s not go into it now.”
“I’ve been difficult and immature, but I’m trying to improve so I can be the bride you’d like me to be.”
How was he to answer such a statement? “We’ll discuss it later.”
“I’m praying that you’ll agree to continue with our wedding. If you cry off, I’ll be crushed. It would humiliate me before the entire world”—tears flooded her eyes—“and while you may not care about that, I couldn’t bear it.”
He kept his face blank, shielding any reaction. How in the hell had she learned about his affair? Were their spies among the servants?
She looked majestic and grand, but very young too, and he felt like the cad he was, like vermin that should be squashed under a boot heel. He’d broken her heart—he hadn’t realized she had a heart—had infuriated her mother, and all he could think about was how he needed to rush upstairs so he could explain himself to Evangeline.
“We’ll talk later,” he said again.
She scowled and sauntered out, regal as any queen, and he and Claudia stood like statues, listening as her strides faded down the hall.
Claudia pointed to a sofa. “Sit, would you?”
He was on the verge of refusing, of stomping out, but he didn’t. “I suppose I might as well.”
First, he detoured to the sideboard and poured himself a whiskey. He gulped it down, then went to the sofa. What was he to say? How was a man to behave in such a situation? He had no idea.
Claudia seated herself in the chair across, and for a long while she simply studied him, as if he were a curious bug she’d spotted on the floor. Eventually, she began.
“We’ve had our differences in the past, Aaron.”
“We have.”
“I hope we can put them aside for a few minutes.”
“I’m sure we can.”
“Tell me about Miss Etherton.”
He frowned, feigning confusion. “What about her?”
“I had a lengthy conversation with your father.”
The bastard! Aaron would have denied any affinity, but if Lord Sidwell had tattled, there was no reason to pretend.
“I see.”
“George thought you and Priscilla should confer about it.”
“He did, did he?” Aaron replied with more venom than he’d meant to display.
“But I decided I should speak with you instead. There aren’t many women who are prepared to have a discussion like this, and I know Priscilla certainly isn’t.”
“What would you have me say, Claudia?”
“I want you to promise me you’ll marry Priscilla—in three weeks as we’ve planned all year. I want to hear that it’s still your intent.”
Aaron’s head was spinning. He was disoriented, as if he was walking around in a nightmare and couldn’t find the route to escape.
Was he planning to wed Priscilla? That issue had been resolved after he’d visited his father. Hadn’t it?
The previous evening, when he’d had too much to drink, it had seemed perfectly logical to deflower Evangeline so he could blackmail her into being his mistress. But in the light of day and being confronted by his future mother-in-law, it seemed tawdry and vile.
He had to talk to Evangeline and beg her forgiveness. Everything was ruined. She was likely packing her bags and would be gone before he and Claudia were finished.
“Yes, I guess I’m marrying Priscilla,” he halfheartedly said.
“You guess? Or you know?”
“I know.”
“Then please march upstairs right now and end your affair with Miss Etherton.”
“I’m not Priscilla, Claudia. Don’t tell me how to behave.”
“I’m not telling you. I’m asking you. Miss Etherton appears to be a fine young woman.”
“She is.”
“When we introduced ourselves, she didn’t realize you were betrothed, and the news was a great shock to her. She was devastated.”
“No doubt she was.”
“Send her away. At once. Swear to me that you will.”
He wouldn’t have to send Evangeline away. He was positive she would leave on her own. She’d need no coaxing.
But still, he snapped, “Stop bossing me, Claudia. You can’t.”
“Look, I’m not a child, Aaron, and it’s clear the two of you have grown very close. I don’t care what you do with her, but she can’t stay here. It’s horridly offensive to Priscilla, and I can’t imagine how Miss Etherton is feeling. If you like, stash her away somewhere for a few weeks. Get her out of sight, then you can take up with her—discreetly—later on.”
“That’s big of you to give me your permission.”
“Your relationship with her is interfering in all our lives. You can’t keep on.”
“Maybe if Priscilla hadn’t shown up at Fox Run uninvited, we wouldn’t be having this problem.”
Claudia flashed such an enraged glare that, had he been standing, it would have knocked him over.
“You dare say that to my face?” Claudia seethed. “Priscilla shouldn’t have come to Fox Run? My God, Aaron, this manor is about to be her home and your mistress is living here!”
He was so far in the wrong, he couldn’t defend his conduct. He muttered, “I apologize.”
“I want you to arrange for Miss Etherton’s removal from the premises. Then I want you to return with us to London tomorrow. In the coming days, I expect you to exhibit the amiable, charming traits I’ve always witnessed from you, just as I expect you to courteously participate in all the events leading up to the wedding.”
“Or…?”
“I will not let Priscilla marry you. We will break the engagement and file suit for breach of contract and alienation of affection. I’ll drag you and Miss Etherton through the courts. I will smear your reputation—and hers—so thoroughly that you will both be pariahs. There will be nowhere you can go with her and have any kind of sane existence.” She paused, seeming dangerous and deadly. “And I will demand your father repay the sums I have advanced toward the dowry. No judge in the land would deny my request to recoup it.”
She raised a brow, informing him she was cognizant of Lord Sidwell’s finances, that he’d already spent the money.
“I understand,” he grumbled, feeling sick and furious.
“We’ll depart for London at ten o’clock. I hope you’ll come to your senses and ride with us.” Her tirade ended, she stood. “At the moment, it’s a bit past noon. If you don’t mind, I’ll ask the housekeeper to have supper served at eight. I would appreciate it if you could join us for the meal to give me your answer. I would hate to have you make us wait until morning.”
“I’ll be there.” He had no idea if he was being truthful or not.
She swept out, and Aaron was all alone.
* * * *
Priscilla was marching down the hall when, up ahead, a door opened and a very beautiful auburn-haired woman emerged. She turned to Priscilla, and she was smiling, about to say hello, when she noted Priscilla’s condemning glower.
“Aren’t you Florella Bernard?” Priscilla inquired.
“Yes, I am.”
“I thought so. I’ve seen you on the stage in London.”
“Oh. I’m always delighted to meet a fan.”
“I’m not a fan. I am Priscilla Cummings, Lord Run’s fiancée. I’m visiting Fox Run. My mother is with me too.”
“How nice.” Miss Bernard struggled to keep her smile in place.
“Though Lord Run occasionally consorts with actresses and other low persons, I don’t believe I should have to.”
“No, no, certainly not.”
“My mother wouldn’t deem you to be appropriate company.”
“Of course not.”
“You’re leaving this afternoon, aren’t you? Isn’t that what I heard? You were called back to London unexpectedly?”
Priscilla scowled at Miss Bernard, watching as a dozen replies flitted through her mind. Possibly she was thinking she’d like to speak to Aaron first. Possibly she’d like to announce that she was a guest and Priscilla had no right to boss her.
But she didn’t dare. Priscilla was so far above her in station that it was a wonder they could see each other across the distance separating them.
Ultimately, Miss Bernard nodded. “Yes, Miss Cummings, I was just on my way downstairs to find my maid so we can pack.”
“It shouldn’t take more than an hour or two, should it?”
“I can be gone by then.”
“Marvelous.”
Priscilla kept on down the hall, and she was so angry, she was trembling. For weeks, her mother had been haranguing at Priscilla about how she had to act around Aaron. Priscilla was trying her best, but honestly, there was a limit as to what she should have to endure.
An actress! Staying in Priscilla’s home! The outrage of it was almost greater than the fact that Aaron’s mistress was present too.
Priscilla didn’t care what her mother said. Once Priscilla and Aaron were married, they would have to establish some rules as to what was allowed and what wasn’t.
She arrived at Miss Etherton’s door, knocked, then strolled in without waiting for a response. The sitting room was empty, but in the bedchamber, Miss Etherton was leaned against the edge of the bed.
She was in a state of shock, had seen Priscilla enter, but didn’t move. She simply stared, her blue eyes wide and tormented.
Priscilla approached until she was directly in front of Miss Etherton. She’d planned to be rude and cruel, but Miss Etherton’s desolation was so obvious, Priscilla couldn’t bear to chastise her. It would have been like kicking a puppy.
“You know who I am, Miss Etherton.”
“Yes, I know.”
“And I know who you are. Lord Sidwell told me all about you. It’s why I’ve traveled to Fox Run. Each minute that you’re in residence is an insult to me.”
Miss Etherton’s cheeks flushed a bright shade of scarlet. “I’m terribly sorry.”
“I must say a few things to you, Miss Etherton.”
“No, Miss Cummings, I believe I should say them to you.”
“Let me start,” Priscilla insisted, “and I must be very blunt.”
Miss Etherton chuckled miserably. “I doubt there’s any other way to have a conversation like this. Yes, please be blunt.”
“You didn’t know about my wedding.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“If you had been apprised, I’m positive you wouldn’t have been here in my home.”
“You’re correct.”
“It was awful of Aaron to have put you in such a predicament.”
“Well…” Miss Etherton couldn’t finish her sentence.
“You seem like a nice person. In other circumstances, we might have been cordial.”
“Yes, we might have been.” Miss Etherton didn’t sound as if she meant it.
“You understand, don’t you, that you must leave Fox Run immediately?”
“Yes, I understand. Absolutely.” Miss Etherton straightened. “I was about to begin packing.”
“Good. I’m glad there won’t be a fuss over it.”
“No, there’s no need to fuss. I was a tad…surprised by your arrival. I was catching my breath, but I’m better now. I’ll get my bag and be gone in a thrice.”
She and Miss Etherton were the same height, but that was the only similarity. Miss Etherton was older than Priscilla, was more slender than Priscilla. While Priscilla never left the house unless she was immaculately coifed and tailored, Miss Etherton wasn’t overly concerned as to her appearance. Her hair was in a haphazard chignon, and she was attired in a dowdy gray dress such as a nanny or governess might wear.
Yet despite her lack of wardrobe or polish, she was very pretty, very appealing, and she exuded a confidence Priscilla would probably never be able to match. Priscilla could definitely comprehend why a man might be attracted to Miss Etherton. If she’d been decked out in a ball gown and jewels, she’d have been stunning.
Priscilla had brought her reticule, and she opened it and pulled out a sack full of coins.
Miss Etherton frowned. “What’s this?”
“It’s for you. Please take it.”
“Why?”
“Have you anywhere to go, Miss Etherton?”
“Yes, I think I do.”
“Is it a location Aaron might recognize? Might he come there in search of you?”
Miss Etherton pondered, then her shoulders drooped. “Yes, he would figure it out eventually.”
“Then I’m asking you—no, I’m begging you—to use this money to go somewhere else.”
“You assume he would look for me?”
“I’m convinced of it, Miss Etherton. He’s very fond of you, and I can see you were very
fond of him.”
“Perhaps,” Miss Etherton muttered.
“I’m about to be a bride, Miss Etherton. My wedding day is an event I’ve dreamed about and planned for since I was a little girl.”
“Of course you have,” Miss Etherton gently said.
“I’m afraid Aaron won’t show up for the ceremony. He’s so infatuated by you! He’s dawdling here, but it’s keeping him from his responsibilities in London. If he left me standing at the altar, I’d just die!”
“He would never do that,” Miss Etherton loyally declared.
“I believed that about him once, but since he met you, I’m not so sure.”
“I’m very sorry,” Miss Etherton murmured.
“I want to start my married life on a good note, Miss Etherton, and I’m aware of how charming Aaron can be. If he knows where you are, he’ll seek you out and persuade you to dally with him again. Sooner or later, I’d learn of it, and it would kill me.”
“It will never happen,” Miss Etherton insisted.
“I’d like to be certain of that.” She forced the money into Miss Etherton’s hand. “Take it, would you? Don’t travel to the location you were envisioning. Go where he would never find you. Consider this a nest egg that will help you get settled.”
Priscilla stared, her expression concerned and sympathetic, and Miss Etherton gaped at the sack of coins. Finally, she sighed.
“Yes, it’s probably for the best.”
“And you oughtn’t to tarry.”
“No. There’s no reason to delay my departure.”
“I heard Miss Bernard is leaving for London.”
“Is she?”
“Yes—within the hour. Maybe you could ride with her.”
“Yes, maybe I could.”
Priscilla studied Miss Etherton, wondering what would become of her. Ruined by a scoundrel. Deceived by his lies. Abandoned by him when push came to shove. It was like a scene out of a tragic novel.
She reached out and squeezed Miss Etherton’s wrist in a supportive way.
“Let me have him, Miss Etherton. Give him up forever so he can be mine. Don’t allow him to shame me further.”
“Yes, yes, he’s all yours. He always has been.”
“Swear it to me.”
