Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Viola could hardly untangle the knot of feelings that pulled tight in her chest. Joy and hope mingled with disbelief; and beneath it all, the cold thread of fear.
It had been her deepest desire to have a child, one that had led to so much anguish. She had never held that child in her arms, and they had always felt empty since, yearning for something she had almost possessed but never did.
She had envied every mother she passed on the street, children in tow, and had believed for the longest time that such joy would remain forever out of reach.
And here she was again, on the cusp of motherhood.
Her hand crept over her stomach in wonder. A little life was growing inside her, and it was nothing short of miraculous.
Josephine was right. She would have to tell Sebastian.
Sebastian was not at home.
But her cousin was.
Viola found Georgiana pacing the drawing room, wringing her hands, when she entered.
“Viola, dear, such a scandal!” Georgiana fluttered towards her, fanning her face. “I hardly know where to begin.”
“Cousin Georgiana. And Lily.” Viola smiled at the girl as she rose from the sofa.
The Season had not changed her; she appeared as cheerful and carefree as ever.
“I haven’t seen you in a while. But whatever is the matter, Georgiana?
” Her cousin was putting the most melodramatic Drury Lane actress to shame.
“Mama is reading far too much into things,” Lily said with a saucy smile.
“I, of course, know nothing at all about what is going on. Not precisely. Not exactly. Since Mama won’t let me read those kinds of books.
” She paused, eyes bright with mischief.
“Apparently, it is the biggest scandal of the Season. But I have a fair idea, since my friend, Miss Emily Brightstone, told me about it. She doesn’t read those books either, let me add,” she added hastily.
“But she was told about them by her cousin. Who then was approached by—”
“Lily. I beg you, be quiet and sit down.” Georgiana turned back to Viola, seizing both her hands. “And you, my poor, poor girl. Who knew your husband was such a…a…my words fail me.”
“Rake,” Lily put in helpfully. “Libertine. Lothario. Don Juan.” She giggled.
“What?” Viola blinked. “Sebastian? You must be mistaken.”
“It’s all written in that book. Written by that woman. And for all the world to see.” Georgiana pressed a hand to her bosom and moaned.
“You don’t say, Cousin. Have you read the book yourself?” Viola was secretly delighted that Georgiana was one of her readers.
“Mama would never admit to it, but yes,” Lily whispered sotto voce. “Stayed up all night, too.”
“Your husband is in that book.” Georgiana set her jaw. “It is the biggest scandal of the Season.”
Viola’s heart hammered against her ribs. “Nonsense.”
“Everyone is talking about it. It has to be Fane. And why would that woman put him into one of her books unless they had an, err, umm…”
“Indelicate relationship,” Lily supplied, and helped herself to a sugar plum from the tray the butler had brought in.
Viola’s knees grew weak, and she sank onto the sofa.
“Who would have thought?” Georgiana continued, pacing anew. “He used to be so above reproach. Always correct, exemplary of all Tories, and now this…”
“Wait, Cousin.” Viola held up a hand. “People are saying he is having an affair with Selina Sable?”
The look Georgiana gave her was full of pity. “It is irrefutably printed in black and white, for all the world to see.”
“Why do you think that character is Fane?”
“It’s the eyes, of course. His high-handed manner, even the way he speaks. She has put him in her book as he lives and breathes. He and that woman must have had an affair.” Georgiana lifted her chin. “If it is not Fane, I shall eat my gloves.”
“Oh, Georgiana.” Viola pressed her lips together, caught between laughter and the hysterical urge to confess everything.
Georgiana was affronted. “You seem entirely unaffected by the fact that your husband is conducting an affair right under your nose. But well. I suppose I must admire your composure, Cousin. For we women must certainly look the other way when they do so. Even if it is a most unfortunate inconvenience.” She looked tragically at the ceiling.
Viola drew a deep breath. “How about we go out for ices at Gunter’s?”
“Oh yes, let’s!” Lily clapped her hands. “It’s been so hot lately and an ice is just the thing.”
Georgiana sniffed, but eventually agreed. “I suppose it doesn’t hurt to show yourself in public and prove you are entirely unaffected by it all. Though I must say, I admire your forte. I really do.”
Just then, a carriage pulled up before the house, and who should emerge but the Lothario himself.
A thrill ran through Viola. “Well. There he is!” Her voice was pitched a touch too bright, and she walked forward to greet her husband. Sebastian gave her a quick smile when he saw her.
She lifted herself up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “We have just been talking about you, dear.” She gripped his arm. “Cousin Georgiana wanted to take us all for ices at Gunter’s. Why don’t you take us there, since the carriage is ready?”
“Right away?”
Viola nodded.
Sebastian greeted Georgiana and Lily, visibly taken aback by her cousin’s icy reception and the suspicious glare she levelled at him. He listened patiently to Lily’s chatter, replying gravely to her many silly questions, treating her with easy courtesy.
Viola felt such a squeeze in her heart. Such pride, and intense liking, and simply gladness that this wonderful man was hers. And now they were to have a child.
Then came the icy reminder: he was about to be ruined forever by her thoughtless publication. How could she prevent this from happening?
Did she imagine it, or did everyone succumb to sudden silence as soon as they entered Gunter’s tea house? Not Georgiana, who, despite her glacial demeanour, maintained a polite stream of conversation. But the other guests, who put their heads together, and the whispers began.
Sebastian, occupied with his sandwiches instead of ices, for he preferred savoury to sweet, did not seem to notice anything amiss.
Then one lady sidled up to their table. She was a graceful creature in a sky-blue walking dress and an elaborate turban with peacock feathers.
“Lady Jersey!” Lily gasped, and Viola’s piece of seed cake lodged in her throat. She coughed wildly into her napkin.
“Georgiana.” Lady Jersey nodded at her cousin. “Introduce me to your company.”
Georgiana made the introductions.
“Lady Viola?” She extended a gloved hand towards Viola, who wondered for a fleeting second whether she was supposed to kiss it.
For Lady Jersey was one of the most powerful hostesses in the ton.
She threw the most coveted parties, presided over Almack’s, and had considerable say in who was in and who was out.
Viola was not entirely sure where on the spectrum she herself fell.
She gave the tips of her fingers a quick shake.
Lady Jersey’s smile sharpened before she turned to Sebastian.
“Fane. One hears such things.” She batted her eyelids at him and touched his arm. “Pray, one cannot help but wonder how much of it is true.”
Georgiana suppressed an audible gasp.
Sebastian stiffened, which was a feat given his habitual rigidity. “Lady Jersey. If you mean to refer to my speech in Parliament regarding Catholic Emancipation this morning, it is entirely true.”
She waved a hand. “Pooh. That is not what I meant.” She leaned forward, a naughty smile playing about her lips. “I meant something else altogether. Ah. Seeing your eyes, I see it is true in every respect. Who would have known?”
Sebastian, clearly floundering, needed rescuing.
Viola inserted herself smoothly between Lady Jersey and her husband, gripping his arm and smiling up into his face. “No one at all. Aside from me, of course.” She patted his arm. “Shall we return home, my heart?” She had never called him ‘my heart’. Least of all in front of strangers.
Taken aback, he blinked. “By all means.” He was clearly nonplussed by both her and Lady Jersey’s behaviour.
Things did not improve once they stepped outside again. Viola wanted to bundle him into the carriage as quickly as possible before they had to endure further encounters, but it was too late.
A group of ladies came bearing down on them. “Mr Fane, an autograph, Mr Fane!” They waved books.
“Good heavens, it has come to this,” Cousin Georgiana gasped. “Quickly, into the carriage.”
“I didn’t know my speech caused so much excitement amongst the people,” Sebastian muttered, clearly perplexed, as he climbed into the carriage, barely evading a lady’s grasp.
“Trust me, my heart, this has nothing to do with your brilliant speech,” Viola muttered, firmly shutting the door against the female onslaught.
The carriage set in motion.
When they arrived home, Peregrine was waiting for them. He was pacing in their drawing room as though he had been there for hours. Viola’s stomach plummeted, for she knew why he was here.
“Lockwood.” Sebastian nodded at him coolly. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”
“Fane.” Peregrine peered closely into his eyes. “Dash it, if she didn’t get the eyes right down to the precise shade,” he muttered.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Nothing, nothing at all. Nothing is the matter, right, Viola? I mean, Lady Viola?”
Viola closed her eyes to summon patience. “Lord Lockwood.” Turning to Sebastian, she said, “I believe this visit is for me. A message from my aunt in Scotland?”
“Yes. Yes. Absolutely. Aunt. Scotland. If you don’t mind us talking for a few minutes, Fane.”
Sebastian narrowed his eyes. “Very well. You have five minutes.”
“By George, he truly is pulling out his pocket watch to keep track of the time.” Peregrine shook his head in amazement as he watched Sebastian leave.
Viola planted her hands on her hips and scowled. “Peregrine. I await your explanation. How on earth did this happen? How could you allow this disaster to occur?”
He ran both hands through his hair, visibly agitated.
“I know, Viola, I know. But you yourself gave me the folder. The story shocked me out of my socks. Good heavens, Viola. I thought I was used to reading the worst, I mean, the best, of course, but this was beyond anything. When I said ‘explicitly explicit’, I hadn’t thought you’d take me so literally.
But it was so brilliant, so masterfully written,” he rushed on when Viola groaned, “I sent it to Piber and Brown and what would you know, they were so ecstatic they published it immediately and with great haste.”
Viola groaned. “This manuscript was never meant to be published. Ever.”
“Well, it is done, and there is no use crying over spilled milk. It is also the least of our problems,” he added in a mutter.
Viola’s head perked up. “What do you mean?”
His eyes shifted away.
“Peregrine!”
“The thing is this. I may have accidentally, quite unintentionally, entirely by mistake, you know… alsogiventhemthelettersthatwerehiddeninthepocketofthefolder.”
Viola blinked. “What was that?”
He cleared his throat and tugged at his cravat. “You forgot to take out the letters.”
Icy panic seized her stomach.
Her letters.
“No,” she breathed. Her legs buckled beneath her, and she sank onto the sofa.
Peregrine resumed pacing. “I had every intention of returning them to you, of course. Unread. It was entirely unintentional. But then I couldn’t help perusing them, naturally. Not when you presented them to me like that on a silver salver.”
“Peregrine!” She sounded as though she were drowning, everything crashing about her. Having her scandalous story published accidentally was one thing. The similarity to Sebastian was there, but there was no actual proof it was him.
But if Peregrine had handed the letters to the publisher as well, it was the end.
For they were the letters she had written but never sent, all these years.
Love letters to the Hon. Sebastian Fane, MP, signed by Lady Viola, aka Selina Sable.
The ultimate proof.