Chapter Fifteen #2
“He may dress like a secretary, but he does not look like one. He carries himself too well, and his diction is too precise. He clearly exercises—which is not something one associates with secretaries—and he has an air of self-confidence about him one does not normally find in a mere clerk.”
“But you barely know him, Hugo, and you’ve hardly been in the house five minutes. I think your imagination is running away with you. Mama will laugh at you if you go to her with this story.”
Why was she defending Roland? She had suspicions of her own. Yet every time she thought of him, her heart turned over, and her blood flowed hotter. It was utter folly, but she had fallen for his easy charm and gentle teasing. She cared for him—and that was a serious lapse of judgment.
“I shall be watching him closely,” Hugo murmured. “If he makes one false step, I shall present my case to Mama. You should watch him too—you are exactly the sort of person he might prey upon.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Behind those thick lenses—which I’m sure he doesn’t need—there’s a handsome face to go with the toned body and air of self-importance. He is, I am convinced, the disgraced younger son of an aristocrat.”
This was meant as wild speculation, but it made Lissy’s breath catch. Hugo had, quite by accident, landed an arrow close to the mark.
Hugo twirled a piece of gammon on the end of his fork and peered at it.
“He is incognito because he cannot allow the authorities to catch up with him, having slain some fellow nobleman in a duel. Or he has ruined some young lady, and his family has refused to support him. He’s now hiding away in Suffolk to avoid her people.
Give him a wide berth—he’s exactly the sort of man to ruin you and break your heart. ”
Lissy choked on a piece of bread, and the ensuing commotion ended all further conversation. Breathless, cheeks tear-stained from coughing, she excused herself, grabbed a glass of water, and retreated upstairs where she could splutter in private.
Her first instinct had been to laugh at Hugo’s ridiculous theories. On reflection, however, most of what she knew about Roland Chetwynd came from Roland Chetwynd himself. What if none of it were true?
Lies could grow like snowballs rolling down a hill—you tell one lie, then you must tell another to conceal the first. Before you know it, you are maintaining a whole avalanche of falsehoods for fear of being exposed.
Hugo was correct—she was at risk. She’d already allowed Roland to invade her heart, and now he was weaving his spell around her body too.
It might be better for everyone if he left.
She didn’t need his protection; she could alert the local constable to the imminent arrival of Henry Sutton and his new accomplice, Oscar Treadwell.
Now that both her brothers were at Mundlingham Castle, she felt less vulnerable.
Mama could use the ball to spread warnings about Sutton and Treadwell amongst their neighbors—soon the whole county would be on the alert.
But if she persuaded Roland to leave, she might never see him again. He’d still be in danger from Sutton, and she wouldn’t be able to help him—and if he left Mundlingham Castle now, he’d be defying one of the most influential women in London, Mrs. Dove-Lyon.
All the same, it might be better to persuade him to leave—he was certainly not doing a good job of keeping a low profile, not after making both Hugo and Latymer suspicious.
She had just made up her mind to seek Roland out when there came a soft tap at the door.
Her breath stilled.
Roland!
Stepping swiftly forward, she flung open the door—only to see Meggy, the under-housemaid. She struggled to conceal her disappointment while the girl bobbed a curtsy, then held out a sealed letter.
“This came for you a few moments ago, miss. It was delivered by hand, but the person who brought it hurried off straight after, so I don’t expect they’re wanting an answer.”
Lissy took the letter and examined the writing. She felt the blood draining from her face as she thanked Meggy and thrust the door closed.
Oscar’s writing.
What could he possibly mean by sending her a letter? Surely, he must know any approach from him would not be welcome. Breaking the seal, she read the contents—then read them again in disbelief.
I understand, he wrote, that you may not feel kindly toward me at present.
I realize I have thrown away any hope of our being reunited in love by foolishly allowing myself to be led by Henry Sutton.
That being so—and with no expectation of forgiveness—there is only one course left open to me if I am to claim the one who should by right be mine.
I will broadcast the news of our elopement and your mother’s cruel attempt to separate us.
I shall make every detail known so the facts can be verified; our address in London, the name of our landlord, and the number of nights we spent there together.
Lissy pressed her hand against her throat. Yes, they had slept in the same room, but never in the same bed. However, that was a distinction Society would not trouble itself to make.
Oscar continued:
Your reputation will be dust and ashes, your family name destroyed if you don’t return to me, your husband in all but name. I have already written letters and used my contacts. All it needs is a word from me, and the London tabbies will feast upon it.
The only way to prevent this is for us to become man and wife.
I accept that the marriage might be awkward initially, but in time, you will see sense.
It is in the best interests of both of us that your mama should give her unconditional consent to our union and retract her threat to disinherit you.
Don’t even think of disappointing me. We both know there is somebody else in the equation—Mr. Roland Chetwynd, who’s now calling himself Cowley in some cowardly effort to escape his obligations to my good friend Henry.
Chetwynd will suffer, too, if you don’t accept my terms. You have until tomorrow, the night of Her Ladyship’s grand ball. Until then, my sweet Lissy.
Lissy realized she’d forgotten to breathe. She dragged air into her lungs and let it out in an enormous, shuddering sob.
Of all the underhanded, ungentlemanly, outrageous things to do! The man she had once loved and trusted was now threatening her very existence—and the lives and reputations of all who mattered to her.
The very last thing she needed now was for Roland to leave Mundlingham Castle. Her mother, her brothers, even the local constable—none of them could stem the tide of scandal once it broke.
Roland was the only person who could save her from utter ruin.