Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
THISTLEWAYTE HALL
Eugenia tried, for at least the tenth time, to read the same paragraph, only for the words to once again fail to pierce the fog clouding her mind.
Ever since Lydia had made that disparaging remark about the Count D’Asti at Lady Duncan’s Ball and – on pure instinct that entirely lacked good sense – Eugenia had defended him with the ferocity of an warrior, she found herself all but incapable of coherent thought.
Even Shakespeare, whose work Eugenia deeply enjoyed, could not hold her attention, nor offer her any respite from her own thoughts.
Every time she closed her eyes, she could hear the whispers hissing their way through Lady Duncan’s ballroom.
Even now, Eugenia could still feel the weight of every judgmental gaze in the room bearing down on her, and her cheeks burned mercilessly with the residual humiliation that had haunted her every moment since that fateful ball on the Ides of March.
Just as she adjusted the book and started reading once more, the library doors banged open and four of Eugenia’s sisters burst into the room.
Eugenia winced at the sudden onslaught of noise and movement.
“Don’t you dare, Millicent—”
Matilda lunged for a piece of paper that Millicent had clutched in her hands, her cheeks ruddy and blue eyes blazing with unbridled fury.
“She deserves to know!”
The twins, Marjory and Millicent, had spoken in unison, as they so often did. Eugenia watched, transfixed, as Millicent passed the piece of paper to Marjory, who darted out of Matilda’s reach.
“Don’t! You’re only going to make things worse!” Octavia shouted over the din, her voice quavering.
Eugenia’s stomach cramped and she pressed a hand against it as her sisters closed in on her quiet corner of the library, screeching and snapping at each other like a murder of crows.
Marjory all but ran to Eugenia, panting and trying to catch her breath by the time she skidded to a stop, mere inches from the window seat Eugenia had been trying to read in.
“You should see this.”
Marjory thrust the paper at Eugenia.
“No, you shouldn’t!” Matilda hissed, but she wasn’t close enough to stop the paper from passing from one sister’s hand to the other.
Eugenia’s stomach flip-flopped uncomfortably as she took the paper and read the title.
The Society Reporter. Despite her love of reading, Eugenia usually avoided reading scandal sheets.
If the twins – who were The Society Reporter’s most avid readers – thought she should read it, that could only mean one thing.
Her hands trembled as she lifted the page, and she took a deep breath, forcing her hands to still so that she could see the words on the page.
A Society Darling’s Tragic Fall from Grace
Lady Duncan’s recent Ball is the talk of the ton, but for all the wrong reasons.
One of society’s wealthiest and most eligible young ladies, who shall not be named, made quite the spectacle of herself.
When one of the young lady’s friends expressed concerns about the character of the man courting the society darling in question, the young lady leapt to her suitor’s defence.
While it is understandable that one might wish to protect the reputation of the suitor who has managed to capture one’s attention, the young lady should have been more concerned with protecting her own reputation.
She protested her friend’s claims so vehemently that we have no choice but to conclude that the two shared a much deeper — and perhaps more inappropriate — connection than we might have otherwise thought.
One cannot help suspecting that the so-called Society Darling is ruined. It is also noteworthy that both the former Darling and her not-so-suitable suitor have been conspicuously absent from London since the incident, which seems to support our suspicions about the two.
Eugenia pressed a hand over her mouth to muffle the sob which tried to claw its way out of her.
Though they had not named her directly, everyone who had attended Lady Duncan’s Ball would know exactly who The Society Reporter was referring to.
And she could only imagine what Edward might think when he read it, let alone her father, or — heaven forbid — Count D’Asti.
She was ruined. Her reputation was in tatters, and she didn’t have anyone to blame but herself for allowing all of those people at Lady Duncan’s Ball to see how much she already cared for Lord D’Asti.
Eugenia mustered up her courage and forced herself to continue reading:
We can only speculate as to why a young lady might be so desperate for attention that she would risk her own reputation – and possibly ruin – in order to gain it, but we suspect there is more to this than meets the eye.
Eugenia balled the scandal sheet up, clenching the crumpled wad of paper in her fist until her knuckles turned bright white.
“I can’t return to London for another Season, not after this.
I have made a fool of myself, and now The Society Reporter has ensured that I am a laughingstock and shall be a spinster, as well.
” Hot tears spilled down Eugenia’s cheeks.
She stared up at the library’s ceiling, her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides, as she struggled to hold herself together. “What must Lord D’Asti think?”
Before anyone could answer her, Eugenia ran from the library, letting the balled-up scandal sheet fall to the floor in her wake.
Her departure achieved what few things ever could – all of her sisters stopped talking, and stared at each other in shock. The silence did not last long, of course, and soon, Millicent was berating Marjory for having given the paper to Eugenia.
Without looking back at her sisters, ignoring whatever they might now be speaking of, Eugenia hiked her skirt up and ran as if the devil himself was on her heels.
Without consciously considering where she was going, she dashed out onto the back terrace which overlooked Thistlewayte Hall’s expansive gardens.
Desperate to be away from her siblings, in fact, from all other living creatures, Eugenia fled, passing through the garden without so much as registering the artful, manicured beauty of it.
Under a gloomy grey sky, she ran until her feet stumbled to a stop of their own accord at the edge of the river which separated Thistlewayte Grange from the Errington estate.
Glaring across at Lydia’s home in the distance, Eugenia let out a low, guttural growl of frustration, shaking her head.
What on earth had possessed Lydia, who was supposed to be her friend, to say such an awful thing about the Count D’Asti?
And worse, what had possessed Eugenia to defend him?
She should have known better, should have just kept her mouth shut and ignored Lydia’s little barb.
That would have been the sensible thing to do, but Eugenia had failed entirely when it came to being sensible, it seemed.
Hot tears stung her eyes and leaked down her cheeks, unchecked, as she sank down onto the grass of the riverbank and hugged her knees to her chest, crying in earnest.
She did not bother to stifle her sobs. No one was nearby enough to hear them, so Eugenia allowed herself to feel the full depth and breadth of her anguish.
She sat there, ignoring the fact that she was most likely ruining her dress, and rocked as she sobbed, trying to get a grip on the despair which swept through her, threatening to overwhelm her entirely.
How could someone who had once been her friend embarrass her so cruelly?
What did I do to make Lydia turn against me?
Eugenia slumped back on the grassy riverbank then, lying on the flat of her back and staring up at the dark, churning clouds which now covered every inch of the sky as far as the eye could see.
She heaved a sigh as she looked up at those ominous clouds, thinking that they perfectly reflected exactly how she felt in that moment.
Then she let her eyes fall closed, silent tears still leaking down her cheeks as she gave in to the utter and complete exhaustion which swept through her. She would just let her poor, aching eyes rest for a moment before she gathered the fortitude to return to the house.
Oh, what a terrible mistake that was. A rumbling peal of thunder pierced Eugenia’s senses and her eyes snapped open as she startled awake.
How much time had passed? She had been a fool to just lie there, out in the open, under a dark, threatening sky, and let her overwrought emotions drag her into a fitful sleep, where Lord D’Asti alternately held her, and turned from her.
Well, Eugenia thought bitterly, if I was a fool, then that is certainly running true to form for me, of late.
Blue-white lightning flashed, and Eugenia winced, shielding her eyes for the eerily quiet moment between the flash of the lighting and the booming clap of thunder which followed.
Cold, fat drops of rain began falling, and as Eugenia scrambled to her feet she muttered a string of quite unladylike curses, which would have made her mother faint, had she been there to hear them.
“Idiot.”
She scolded herself in angry tones as she lifted her skirts once again and set out back towards the house at an absolutely undignified run.
Eugenia berated herself with every pounding footstep, and every bitterly cold drop of rain which slapped against her skin as she ran.
The ground turned soft beneath her feet, squelching and sucking at her flimsy shoes.
She paused, then, and pulled her shoes off, clutching them against her hiked-up skirt, thinking she’d be able to run faster in her stockinged feet than in those silly shoes which were already half-disintegrated by the rain and mud.
By the time Eugenia reached the terrace, cold mud had soaked through her stockings and chilled her feet, the driving rain had drenched her so badly that it almost looked as if she’d thrown herself into the river, and her teeth were chattering uncontrollably.
Finally letting her skirts fall, Eugenia let herself in via the door she’d initially exited through, and stood dripping on the parquet floor of the empty ballroom.
Groaning, she paused to remove her muddy stockings, regretting that she had tracked mud into the house and was dripping water everywhere.
A housemaid poked her head into the ballroom at the sound of the door banging shut, and the girl let out a startled shriek at the sight of Eugenia, wretched and filthy, looking like something which had crawled out of a bog, no doubt.
Several pairs of feet came running at the housemaid’s shriek, and the girl rushed to her side.
“Are you all right, Lady Eugenia? What happened?”
Eugenia was in no mood to admit to the house staff that her current state was the result of her own stupidity and nothing more, so she chose only to answer the former question while ignoring the latter.
“I’m f-f-fine.” Eugenia forced the words out through chattering teeth and crossed her arms, hugging her own torso in an effort to minimise her visible shivering. “I just need a bath and some fresh clothes, I’m sure. And I’m dreadfully sorry about the mess.”
The housekeeper, Mrs. Petty, pushed through the small crowd of housemaids and footmen, clucking like a mother hen.
“Don’t you worry about the mess, Lady Eugenia. Let’s just get you clean, warm, and dry before you catch your death of cold, shall we?”