Chapter Eighteen
Meredith was sure she’d be sick when she saw Mr. Delaware looking straight at her.
Of all the luck, the one person to whom they’d lied so blatantly was here, listening, as their true relationship of student and teacher was laid bare.
She didn’t dare look at Jules as he thanked her; it was as if her instincts knew everything was about to come crashing down. All her lies, her sins, her last scraps of social standing in the ton were about to be blasted into the scandal of the season.
And then he’d said it. For all to hear.
Words that couldn’t be taken back.
Ever.
Everyone knew she’d been introduced as Jules’s wife now—and what that likely meant they’d been up to in Paris.
A cry caught in her throat and her limbs shook with the need to escape.
She ran. Fast.
“Meredith. Wait.”
Nancy’s voice followed her, but Meredith didn’t stop.
She kept on running, dashing through the ladies’ gaming room and all the way to the servants’ stairs.
Once there, she scooped up her heavy, velvet hem and dashed up as fast as she could.
She had to get away. Escape. Run. Pretend none of this had ever happened.
Except it had.
Footfalls were following her, several pairs by the sound of it.
She hoped it wasn’t Jules. She had no desire to see the man who had caused her world to crash down, no matter how handsome he was.
On arriving at her attic room, she barged in and threw herself face-down onto the bed. Tears came hot and fast and she balled her fists and thumped the mattress.
“Meredith, please don’t upset yourself.” Nancy’s voice.
“This is all a mistake. Please don’t cry.” It was Bethany; she’d obviously followed Nancy up the stairs. “The man must have had a blow to the head.”
“But…” Meredith turned. Her cheeks wet and flushed and her nose dripping. “But it’s not…”
“What?” Bethany’s eyes widened. “What on earth do you mean, ‘it’s not’?”
Nancy shook her head and sighed. “Here goes…”
“I went to Paris with him,” Meredith admitted. “I lied to Mrs. Dove-Lyon. I said I was going to Wales to see my mother and then went gallivanting to Paris with the biggest rake and scoundrel the ton has ever seen.”
“I would agree there.” Nancy shook her head.
“But…I mean, that is very bold…” Bethany’s eyes were wide.
“Stupid.” Meredith sniffed. “Bold and stupid.”
“Yes, that, too, I suppose, but what does Mr. Delaware have to do with it?” Bethany asked.
“We saw him.” Meredith reached for a kerchief and dabbed her face. “At the hotel. Jules had put a ring on my finger, not a real one, a circle of brass from the key ring, and we were pretending to be married.”
“Why?” Bethany frowned.
Meredith said nothing.
Bethany looked at Nancy. “Oh, I see.”
Nancy pressed her lips together into a tight line.
“Like I said, it was stupid, but… But that’s what we did.”
“Jules Habsburg.” Bethany let out a whistle. “The man is dapper, I’ll give him that, and charming, to boot, but he’ll never marry. He has too much fun flirting his way around the ton.”
“I know. I know.” Meredith threw herself back to the bed and a fresh wave of sobs came out.
This was bad. Really bad. And she hadn’t even confessed that her courses were now late. Very late.
Because that information was really going to cause a storm.
“I bid you follow me to my office, Mr. Habsburg.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s tone dared him to even try to defy her. “There are clearly things to be discussed regarding a young lady in my care.”
Jules obeyed and followed the swish of the widow’s black gown through a hum of chatter that was laced with both his and Meredith’s names. He wiped his brow on his kerchief again. How on earth had it come to this? And of all the dratted bad luck, to have Mr. Delaware show up when he had.
They left the gaming hall and Jules’s footfalls echoed around the corridor as he was led to Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s office.
Lysander looked him up and down, as though he could find out that way just what Jules had done.
He’d know soon enough.
The entire ton would know soon enough.
How foolish he had been to think they could pretend to be married for a few sweeter-than-sweet nights and get away with it. Nothing was private. Nothing was secret.
Or so it seemed.
Mrs. Dove-Lyon entered her office and took a seat behind a large desk that was full of papers, thick ledgers, and pens.
She didn’t ask him to sit.
Jules put his envelope of prize money in his pocket and rocked back on his heels. How was he going to talk his way out of this one?
“It seems scandal follows you around like a lost puppy, Mr. Habsburg. Or perhaps I should say an entire litter of lost puppies.”
“I don’t even know what happened. If I did—”
“Do not tell me you don’t know what Mr. Delaware was talking about. He is a fine, upstanding individual and I, like everyone else in the room, heard the truth in his voice. He believes you to be married to my Meredith.”
“Your Meredith?”
“She is here, safe under my roof, or so her mother believes.” She nodded slowly and steepled her hands. “Ah, I see now. She didn’t go to visit her mother in Wales, did she? She went to Paris with you.” She clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “Little minx.”
He pulled his eyebrows low and bit on his bottom lip. There was nothing he could say to save Meredith from that accusation. She’d been found out. “I suppose, Mrs. Dove-Lyon, I am very persuasive. You shouldn’t be too cross with her for bending to my will.”
“Ha! Yes, that you are. Very persuasive to a naive young woman, very persuasive, indeed.” She leaned forward. “So why did you come up with this lie about you being married to her?”
“That’s a long story.”
“I have time for it.” She shrugged. “And I am beyond curious.”
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
“Are you regretting your actions?” she asked.
“No.” He snapped his head up to look at her.
“Not being with Miss Jones and taking her to Paris, no—she loved it. Every moment. She is intelligent and energetic, and a delight to be with. I enjoyed myself all the more seeing it through her eyes.” He paused.
“What I do regret is that I have landed her in hot water. I dare say my reputation will survive, but hers…”
“It’s true. She couldn’t be more tarnished.”
He frowned. “Whatever should we do?”
“‘We’?” She shook her finger at him. “Not we. What should you do, Mr. Habsburg? What should you do to undo the damage you have done to an innocent young woman’s reputation?”
Heat crawled up his back, over his neck, and tickled his scalp. “I did suggest…”
“What?”
“I did suggest that she be my mistress.” His cheek flushed, where Meredith had slapped him.
Jules then jumped as Mrs. Dove-Lyon slammed a book on her desk closed and stared at him.
“Why, of all the…” she said icily.
“I thought it would be a solution for both of us.” He held out his hands.
“A solution that doesn’t include a real marriage, but you get a pretty woman in your bed permanently. I hope she gave you hell for the suggestion.”
He rubbed his cheek. “Yes, she did actually, but… But it wasn’t for that reason at all.
The bedchamber thing. I like being with her.
I want to be with her.” He paused. “When I am with her, I forget about the things that usually vex me. I smile more than I ever thought possible. She challenges me and captivates me and I believe that makes me happy.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon nodded slowly, as though taking all of this in. “And so why did you ask her to be a mistress and not your wife?”
“I… I am not the marrying sort, so I’ve been told. And my father, he had a mistress. It suited him well—I saw that with my own eyes. I thought it would work for me.”
He tapped his fingers together and waited for her to speak.
“How do you feel when you see another man admiring her? She looked most becoming tonight in a new gown.”
“I don’t like it.” He shook his head and scowled. “Not one bit.” And he didn’t; something in his core told him that.
“Because you want her for yourself?”
“Yes.” He paused. “Is that a problem?”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon was quiet for a moment. “Mr. Habsburg. Tell me more about your family.”
“Well.” He puffed up his chest. “As you know, the Habsburg name is synonymous with power and wealth and great piety and I’m sure you—”
“Yes, yes, I know about the Habsburg dynasty, for I am a well-read woman, but please, your ancestors took a different route, or so I am led to believe. What I asked is tell me about your family. Your parents, your siblings.”
He frowned. “I am sure it is well-known that my mother died in childbirth with me, and I have no siblings.”
“And how do you think that has affected you?”
“I don’t follow. Apologies.”
She sighed. “Okay, I will explain. You have never seen a man fall in love, have you?”
Before Jules could continue, she went on.
“Love is a magical feeling. It makes you happy, it makes you jealous, it makes you want to be with a person with such intensity, you can barely even breathe when you are apart.”
He nodded slowly. He understood that. A recent lesson, but yes, he knew what she was saying.
“That person’s smile makes you smile. Their pain hurts you.
All you really want to do is make the rest of the world disappear so that you can be together in your own little bubble, content in the wonderful feelings you have.
And…” She wagged her finger at him. “If that person loves you the same, I do believe, that is one of the great riches in life. More than money, more than art, more than power, love is the wealth we should all strive for.”
Jules rubbed his chin. What Mrs. Dove-Lyon was describing matched exactly how he felt about Meredith.
How did she know?
“So, my question to you, Mr. Habsburg, is now that we’ve established you are in love with Miss Meredith Jones, is she in love with you?”
“Love.” His eyes widened. “You think I am in love with her?”
“Without a doubt.”
He shook his head, then nodded. His heart squeezed and he swallowed, his throat suddenly tight.
Love.
He was in love. That was what these feelings were.
Heaven’s above!
Mrs. Dove-Lyon, in her wisdom, had seen straight into his soul and given a name to the intense emotions he’d been experiencing.
“I… But… I mean how…and I don’t know.” He held out his hands. “I have no idea if she is in love with me. She can barely look at me, and last time we spoke, she slapped me so hard, my teeth rattled.”
“Good for her.” The widow picked up a small, brass bell and rang it.
“What… What are you doing?”
“This matter must be resolved tonight.”
Lysander opened the door. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Could you fetch Miss Meredith Jones, please. I wish to speak with her.”
Lysander made a low, growling sound that seemed directed at Jules and then closed the door.
“Now we wait.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon picked up a sheaf of papers and began rifling through them.
Jules’s heart was pounding. He paced to the right and to the left. His palms were a little sweaty as he stopped in front of a landscape painting and studied the sky and the trees.
Deep breath.
Deep breath.
He had to play this right. There would only ever be one woman for him. And if he let her slip through his fingers, it would be the biggest loss of his life.