Chapter Eighteen
“What’s happened?” Farah asked as soon as Courtney entered their beautiful drawing room.
Courtney stood frozen in the doorway, the composure she’d maintained throughout her carriage ride suddenly threatening to crumble. Farah’s concerned face blurred slightly as tears filled Courtney’s eyes.
“Oh, my dear,” Farah said, immediately crossing the room and taking Courtney’s hands. “Come, sit. You’re trembling.”
Courtney allowed herself to be led to a settee, sinking into its cushioned embrace as if her legs could no longer support her.
Around the room, she vaguely registered the presence of their other friends—Claire and Ivy exchanging worried glances, Valora setting aside a ledger of figures, and Ashley reaching for the bell to call for tea.
“I need to speak with you privately,” Courtney managed, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s…about Lucien.”
Understanding instantly dawned in Farah’s eyes. With a subtle nod to the others, she helped Courtney to her feet once more. “We’ll be in the morning room,” she informed them. “Please continue without us.”
As Farah led her from the drawing room, Courtney caught a glimpse of the investor’s ledger Valora had been examining.
Under any other circumstances, she would have been eager to discuss their latest ventures, to celebrate the success of their bold financial strategies.
How trivial those concerns seemed now, with Lucien’s future—with Ava-Marie’s future—hanging in the balance.
The morning room was awash in sunlight, its cheerful yellow walls and fresh flowers a stark contrast to the darkness spreading through Courtney’s heart. As soon as the door closed behind them, Farah turned to her.
“What has happened?” she asked again, her voice gentle but direct.
Courtney took a steadying breath. “Baron Lockwood came to call on me this morning.”
Farah’s expression immediately hardened. “What did that vile man want?”
“He…” Courtney faltered, then forced herself to meet Farah’s eyes. “He claims to have information about Lucien’s time in Ireland. About Ava. About Ava-Marie.”
A flicker of something—alarm, recognition, guilt?—crossed Farah’s face so quickly Courtney might have imagined it, but her racing heart told her otherwise.
“Is it true?” Courtney whispered. “Was Ava never truly his wife? Is Ava-Marie…” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word ‘illegitimate.’
Farah closed her eyes briefly, her shoulders sagging under an invisible weight. When she opened them again, they held a mixture of resignation and sorrow.
“How much did Lockwood tell you?” she asked carefully.
“Enough,” Courtney replied, her worst fears confirmed by Farah’s non-denial.
“He said there’s no record of a marriage between Lucien—or John Collins—and Ava in any parish near Malahide or Dublin.
He said…” Her voice caught. “He said Ava was known in certain circles in Dublin before relocating to Malahide.”
“And you believed him?” Farah asked, though her tone suggested she already knew the answer.
“I didn’t want to,” Courtney admitted. “But your face just now confirms it. You knew, didn’t you? When you found Lucien in Ireland, you discovered the truth.”
Farah moved to the window, her slender fingers fidgeting with the curtain.
“Yes,” she said finally. “Rockwell and I learned the truth while in Ireland. Rockwell spoke with the local vicar in Malahide. He’d never performed a wedding for them.
But the vicar assumed they’d married in Dublin.
Rockwell searched the local churches in Dublin but couldn’t find any entries and Lucien admitted that he’d not married her after his injury.
She had led him to believe they were already husband and wife, taking advantage of his memory loss. ”
The confirmation hit Courtney like a physical blow. She sank into a nearby chair. “And Ava-Marie?”
“Is Lucien’s daughter,” Farah said firmly. “Of that, there is no doubt. Just look at her. He loves her desperately. She is innocent in all of this.”
“Of course she is,” Courtney agreed immediately.
“None of this is her fault.” She twisted the sapphire ring on her finger, emotions churning inside her.
“Why didn’t he tell me? We’re to be married, and he kept this from me.
Perhaps he didn’t want this information to hinder the two of us getting to know each other again. ”
“That’s probably true.” Farah returned to her side, kneeling to take Courtney’s hands.
“But it also could be because he was afraid,” she said softly.
“Terrified that this knowledge would change how you felt about him, about Ava-Marie. The shame of having been deceived so thoroughly, of having a child born outside of marriage—it weighs on him constantly.”
“Then he doesn’t really know me. Did he plan to tell me at all?” Courtney asked, unable to keep the hurt from her voice.
“Only he can tell you that,” Farah whispered.
Courtney’s mind raced, piecing together fragments of conversations, the shadows that had occasionally darkened Lucien’s expression when discussing his time in Ireland, his reluctance to speak of Ava.
“I thought he couldn’t bear to talk about Ava because he was so in love with her and her loss destroyed him.
But I understand his fear,” she said slowly.
“I just wish he could have trusted me. Then Lockwood’s threat wouldn’t have been such a surprise.
I hated that he knew more about Lucien than I did. ”
“Threat?” Farah’s head snapped up. “What threat?”
Courtney pressed her fingers to her temples. “That’s why I came. Lockwood isn’t merely spreading gossip. He’s attempting to blackmail me.”
“Blackmail? How?”
“He demands that I marry him instead of Lucien,” Courtney explained, disgust evident in her voice. “He wants my dowry and my family connections. In exchange, he claims he’ll keep Lucien’s secret and spare Ava-Marie and the family any scandal.”
Farah’s eyes widened in outrage. “That contemptible, loathsome—” She cut herself off, visibly gathering her composure. “When does he expect your answer?”
“Tomorrow night, at Lady Fenchurch’s ball.
He’s giving me until midnight.” Courtney’s hand trembled as she brushed a tear from her cheek.
“Farah, I have to protect them. They have suffered enough already. But I’d prefer to stop Lockwood without exposing them to the very scandal I’m trying to prevent. ”
Farah rose to her feet, determination replacing shock. “We need Rockwell. He has resources we can use.” She strode to the bell pull and gave it a sharp tug. When a footman appeared moments later, she instructed him to send an urgent message to Lord Ware requesting his immediate presence.
“We have less than thirty-six hours,” Courtney said, anxiety tightening her chest. “Even Rockwell’s influence may not be enough to uncover something we can use against Lockwood in such a short time.”
“It won’t be easy,” Farah acknowledged, beginning to pace the room. “But we must try. Lockwood has clearly been planning this for some time. He must have vulnerabilities of his own we can exploit.”
“But what if we can’t find anything in time?” Courtney asked, voicing her deepest fear. “I’ll have to break my engagement and pretend I’m agreeing to Lockwood’s plan. That would give us more time. But Lucien must remain in the dark or Lockwood will spread the news.”
Farah hesitated. “Lucien will demand to know why you have called the engagement off.”
“Then what do you suggest?” Courtney asked, desperation edging her voice. “Even if I pretend to accept Lockwood’s proposal, my father will never consent to a match with a man of Lockwood’s reputation. What do I tell my father?”
Before Farah could respond, a commotion in the hallway announced Rockwell’s arrival. He entered without ceremony, his usual languid demeanor replaced by alert concern.
“Your message sounded urgent,” he said to Farah, then noticed Courtney’s pale face. “What’s happened?”
Farah quickly explained the situation while Rockwell’s expression darkened progressively. By the time she finished, he was pacing alongside her, his movements sharp with barely contained anger.
“Lockwood has overplayed his hand,” he said finally. “He’s made two critical errors: targeting you, Courtney, when half the ton would rise to defend you; and assuming that Lucien’s secret is the only weapon in this battle.”
“What do you mean?” Courtney asked, a flicker of hope igniting in her chest.
Rockwell smiled grimly. “Lockwood believes he has until tomorrow night to spring his trap. This gives us time to prepare a counter-offensive.”
“But what could we possibly find to use against him in just one day?” Courtney pressed.
“Perhaps nothing,” Rockwell admitted. “But we don’t need evidence yet—we only need to make Lockwood believe we’re pursuing his preferred course of action while we buy ourselves more time.
Meanwhile, I’ll put my most discreet contacts to work investigating Lockwood’s affairs.
The man is desperate for funds—he wouldn’t resort to blackmail otherwise.
There must be debts, improprieties, perhaps even crimes that could counter his hold over you. ”
“And what of Lucien? I’ll have to break the engagement or Lockwood will become suspicious.” Courtney asked, her heart aching at the thought of deceiving him, even temporarily. “What will Lucien think of me? I’m fickle and mean…”
A silence fell over the room as Rockwell and Farah exchanged glances.
“Once we tell him the truth, he will be ever so grateful,” Farah said gently. “He should thank you for protecting his family.”
“Agreed,” Rockwell said. “He’s already had a run in with Lockwood. I don’t want him doing something stupid like challenging him to a duel.”
Courtney twisted her engagement ring, conflicted emotions warring within her. “It feels wrong to keep him in the dark,” she murmured. “Who knows what Lucien may do if he learns what Lockwood is up to? If Lucien reacts badly, it will reveal all.”