Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Ryerson is behind this slander.”
Despite the pounding in his chest, cold fury focused James.
He was in Ethan’s study, along with the rest of the family, as well as Friend and Dunsmuir, who had delivered the catastrophic news.
On the desk was the most recent copy of The Morning Post, and he stared with burning eyes at the story blazed across the front page:
A Lady’s Past Shadows Her Husband’s Ambition
Rumors of an unsettling nature now circulate regarding the wife of a rising parliamentary hopeful.
According to a source within her late stepfather’s household, certain indiscretions in the lady’s youth have been misrepresented to avoid scandal.
While details are still unfolding, the implications cast a troubling shadow over the candidacy of her husband, a nobleman of distinguished lineage, whose papa was known for his valor fighting Boney.
While the article named no names, it might as well have. Everyone would know that the story was about James and Evie. Over scandal broth, the wags would be speculating upon the nature of Evie’s “indiscretions.”
Enraged, James bit out, “The dirty bastard knew he was losing and started these rumors to ruin my campaign. At the ball, he intimated that he would use scandal to smear me—”
“His strategy was effective,” Dunsmuir said soberly. “Being a mudslinger pays off, I’m afraid. Ryerson has brought down many an opponent in this manner.”
James tried to calm himself—to not let anxiety muddle his logic.
Before his death, had Merrow sold this piece of filth to Ryerson?
Had he calculated that his blackmail scheme would soon run dry and found another way to turn a quick profit?
How much had Merrow told Ryerson? The article, while sensational, damned through insinuation rather than fact.
Details were vague, which led James to believe that Ryerson did not know about Wilmington’s poisoning.
If Ryerson did know, he would have undoubtedly accused Evie of murder—and James of being an accomplice who covered up her supposed crime.
No, Ryerson doesn’t know. Maybe Merrow was selling him information in pieces. Yet now Merrow is dead—and perhaps Evie’s secret will die with him.
The coil in James’s gut told him that the danger was far from over.
Scandal was rising like a tide, and he had to protect Evie from its lethal undertow.
He had to keep an eye on Owen, who hadn’t slept for days and seemed to be falling to pieces.
He had to win his campaign—to make good on his promise to bring justice, health, and honor to all.
By God. How will I accomplish all of that and still stay afloat?
His cravat suddenly felt as if it were strangling him, his lungs pulling for air.
“People will see through this.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “This is naught but rumor and idle speculation. Once voters are presented with the issues—”
“You overestimate people,” Friend said in disgust, “and their interest in issues that impact their daily lives. It is done, Manderly.”
He stilled. “What do you mean?”
“I mean the campaign is over. Time to hoist the white flag and move on.”
The matter-of-fact words plowed into him like a fist, knocking out his breath.
“Now wait just one bloody minute,” Papa spoke up, his posture rigid and eyes flashing with outrage.
“The pair of you convinced my son to run for this seat because you know he is the best man for the job—a man of honor who will do his best to represent his constituents. Now this…this scoundrel, Ryerson, has the gall to insult James and his wife, and instead of closing ranks and defending him, you fall out of formation and desert?”
“We are not deserting him, sir,” Dunsmuir said hastily.
“Then what else do you call abandoning my son and fleeing like a pair of lily-livered curs?” Papa barked.
“Marcus,” Mama murmured. “It is not their fault.”
“Mama is right.” James found his voice. “Friend and Dunsmuir are not to blame.”
I am. I failed to do my duty. I failed Evie and my campaign.
“We aren’t abandoning you, Manderly,” Dunsmuir said earnestly.
“You will have our friendship, always. However, it is in your best interest to end the campaign. You saw what Ryerson did to Gosford. When Gosford resisted resigning, the rumors Ryerson circulated became increasingly lurid.” He cast a nervous glance at Xenia and Mama.
“Things were said about him that I cannot repeat in polite company. When Gosford finally yielded, his reputation was in shreds. He will never recover.”
Gosford’s warning rang in James’s head.
Don’t invite dishonor into your life. It is a disagreeable houseguest who will destroy everything you hold dear and never leave. However bad you think it might be, the reality is a hundred times worse.
Invisible bands tightened around James’s chest.
Is that where I am now headed? Is my reputation—my honor as a gentleman—destroyed? Is it my fate to be scorned in clubs, to be torn to shreds by gossipmongers, to be a blemish on my family’s good name?
Such an existence seemed unthinkable. Unbearable. As James began to grasp the enormity of the situation, Evie and Gigi entered the study. One glance at his wife’s bloodless face told James that his sister had broken the news.
Soon after Evie arrived, the others left to give her and James privacy.
She had heard enough, though, and read the article in The Morning Post condemning her and destroying James in the process.
Now her husband stood by the window, looking out at the gardens, his hands braced on his hips.
Tension radiated from him. He didn’t say anything—didn’t have to.
His silence shouted at her louder than he ever would.
“This is my fault,” she began.
“It is not.” He spoke curtly, without turning. “This is Ryerson’s doing.”
“He couldn’t have done it without my participation.”
The truth battered her down. There was nothing left in her—no fight, not even an instinct to flee. She wanted to admit defeat…to apologize for ruining everything that was good. For allowing her cursed existence to drag down her blameless husband.
“As we have worn this subject threadbare, there is no need to linger upon it.” James twisted his head to glance at her, his handsome countenance aged by harsh lines. “God knows the public will be doing enough of that.”
“Do they…do they know what I did to Wilmington?”
Clenching her hands, she almost wished they did. The guilt of holding her secret—of witnessing how it was affecting James—was more painful than facing the consequences.
“It is unlikely. If Ryerson knew the specifics, it would be all over the papers.”
“The scandal is worse than you know. Worse,” she added, “than I even knew.”
She was still coming to terms with Harkness’s revelation. There had been two murders in her family: one accidental…and one intentional. The fact that Wilmington had killed Mama overwhelmed her ability to cope. She felt numb and detached—like a mere observer in the unfolding tragedy of her life.
“It doesn’t matter,” James said wearily. “In a few hours, I will announce my resignation, and all of this will go away.”
“You are going to resign?”
He turned fully to her then, an angry god bathed in golden light.
“What do you expect me to do?” he said. “Let them rip your reputation to pieces and label me an accomplice? Invite them to excavate your past and see how much dirt they can dig up?”
His words sliced into her, sharper than any blade.
She swallowed. “But…but the campaign means everything to you—”
“The campaign, as my cronies so succinctly put it, is done. And so am I.”
“Surely there is something that can be done—”
“What, precisely, would you have me do, Evie?” he gritted out. “Can’t you see I am out of options? Contrary to what you seem to believe, I am not some damned deity. I do not possess divine powers that allow me to solve all problems.”
“I never said you had such a power,” she said with stunned hurt.
“Your actions have implied it,” he snapped. “Why else would you come to me with your troubles and expect me to manage them?”
The unfairness of his accusations ignited her temper.
“I didn’t want you to have to deal with my troubles,” she said in a shaking voice. “That is why I kept them a secret all these years.”
He clenched his jaw. “Now is not the time to remind me of your lies.”
“No? Then let us talk about yours.”
His eyes flashed ominously. “I have never lied to you.”
“I beg to differ. You said I was not to blame for what happened, yet you do blame me, don’t you? It is only logical, and you are nothing if not that. Things in your campaign were going swimmingly, then—voilà. My past raises its ugly head. Disaster and devastation ensue.”
He scowled. “That is hardly fair—”
“You are thinking to yourself that if you had married someone else, you would not be in this predicament.”
“Don’t presume to know what I bloody think.”
“A proper lady is a credit to her husband and helps him to achieve his ambitions. I, on the other hand, have lied to you, lost your babe, made you hunt a blackmailer, traumatized your brother…oh, and destroyed your good name. Am I missing anything?”
“What do you want me to say?” James’s voice went frighteningly soft, the way it did when he was pushed past his limits. “This isn’t all about you, Evie. Not everything is—although you seem to forget that.”
“I beg your pardon?” she said coldly.
“Your self-pity grows tedious. Everything I have been working for—that I wanted—lies in shambles, and all you can talk about is you. About your past, your shame, your guilt. So yes,” he said scathingly.
“Perhaps you have the right of it. Perhaps I did have the thought that it would be nice to be married to someone who didn’t just come to me with problems but also supported me in my time of need. ”
There it was: the truth lay bare. She’d known it all along, yet hearing him say it, feeling his anger and resentment, was more painful than she could have imagined.
Every breath hurt, as if she had razor blades in her chest. As if her emotional calluses had been shaved off, her husband’s disdain pressed upon her every tender shortcoming.
A rapping sounded on the door.
“What is it?” James snarled.
Ethan edged inside, his gaze darting warily between them.
“I am sorry to interrupt.” He cleared his throat. “You have a visitor, brother.”
“Tell them I am indisposed—”
“It is Lady Vernon. She says she wishes to help.”
Of course she does. I ruin things; she fixes them. She is exactly the sort of woman James ought to have married, and he finally recognizes it.
The gleam of hope in James’s eyes was more than Evie could bear.
“I’ll leave you to her,” she said.
She fled before the tears could fall.