Chapter 4
Four
Anne stood in silence as the crowd behind her stared.
The moment seemed frozen. Then she turned abruptly and began quickly herding scandalized guests back toward the hallway.
“This does not appear to be an appropriate time to discuss the decor of the library,” she said to the gaping faces of her invited guests.
“If you will excuse me, I will rejoin you all in just a moment.”
And then she closed the library door.
“Well,” she said dryly, “this is a pretty tableau.”
Elizabeth, struggling to rewrap her mantelet, refused to look in Anne’s direction.
She had a fair idea of what she’d see: shock and disapproval.
This was all so embarrassing, humiliating, horrifying…
and a tempest in a teapot compared to how her brother would react.
Rafe, oh God, Rafe, how could she explain?
Would he forgive her? Would he even listen?
She pulled her mantelet tight around her waist, as if the velvet might protect her.
Or at least fortify her spine. She’d have to turn and face Anne.
Worse yet, she’d have to face the people in the hallway.
The people who had seen…had seen her…exposed.
A tidal wave of shame swept over her. She, who’d kissed James, who’d wrapped her arms around him, allowed him to slide her bodice down and her skirts up, hardly dared look at him now.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him straightening his stock, his eyes fixed on his sister.
He smoothed his hair. He was missing a ribbon from the bottom of his braided queue, she noticed distractedly.
She glanced about the floor for it, as if finding the ribbon might somehow tidy the mess into which they’d gotten themselves.
She heard Anne moving toward them, the rustle of her skirts, the rasp of her slippers on the nap of the carpet. Turning to look, Elizabeth saw a length of blue velvet dangling from Anne’s outstretched hand.
“James,” Anne said. “You’ll be needing this if you plan to return to the assembly.”
“Keep it.” His voice was oddly flat. “I won’t be returning.”
“But the night is young. There is still so much entertainment to be had.”
It was the oddest conversation, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, as if nothing more had come undone than James’s ribbon.
“I’ve had enough entertainment.”
Disgust was in his voice, and Elizabeth shivered; was his disgust meant for her? She straightened, staring openly at him, but his gaze remained fixed on his sister.
“As you wish.” The ribbon slid through Anne’s fingers and fluttered to the floor. “You’ve done more than enough this evening. I’ll see to the rest.”
The rest. Was she the rest? Elizabeth turned to Anne, completely missing the expression in James’s eyes as he turned at last to look at her. It was the expression of a man watching something inconceivably precious slip from his grasp. His fingers flexed, his arm tensed as if to reach for her.
“If you wish to leave unnoticed, James,” Anne said sharply, “use the door to the music room. I’ll take Elizabeth down the back stairs, through the kitchen to the mews. Her brother’s coach is waiting.”
Rafe’s coach…but how?
“I spoke with your brother and his wife earlier this evening, Elizabeth. They seemed most concerned about your mother. An inflammation of the lungs, I believe they said. They were worried about leaving her home alone, worried things might suddenly take a turn for the worse. As a precaution, I ordered his coach brought round to the front of the line. Most fortunate as it turns out, don’t you think? ”
Elizabeth couldn’t think—she didn’t understand.
Louisa seemed fine when they’d left. But she hadn’t paid a great deal of attention to her—another of her sins, she knew, not paying enough attention to what people said and did and cautioned.
She’d been so excited at the promise of the party, the prospect of adventure…
Relief rippled briefly over her.
Thank God Louisa hadn’t been here to witness her disgrace. Her mother would never rail at her the way Rafe most certainly would, but there would be deep, silent disappointment in her eyes. And that would be harder to bear. Her mother trusted her. Elizabeth hated to let her down. Again.
“Can I leave?” She struggled to keep her voice composed. “Now?”
“Of course, my dear.” Anne smiled gently. “Follow me.”
Elizabeth glanced back at James. He stood stiffly, his face expressionless.
“Come along, Elizabeth,” Anne prompted, “people are waiting.”
As the backstairs door to the Dinsmores’ library clicked closed behind the two women, James sank to his knees beside the couch, hands pressed against the fading warmth where Elizabeth had been.
Why, he wondered, did people imagine hell was hot?
Hell, he felt certain, was deathly cold.
How strange to have entered a party with her head held high, her stomach fluttering with excitement, only to leave this way: creeping down the back stairs. Head bowed, Elizabeth followed a mercifully silent Anne Dinsmore, their skirts brushing the walls of the narrow, poorly lit passage.
They entered the kitchen, steamy and close, rank with the aromas of exhausted servants and roasting meats.
A chaos of noise faded abruptly as the footmen and serving girls, cooks and scullery maids, stared as Anne and Elizabeth made their way past long tables piled high with half-eaten food and empty glasses.
Stepping out into the cool darkness of the mews, Elizabeth felt as if she’d been expelled from hell.
She pulled her mantelet close, her eyes adjusting to the abrupt shift from the fiery brightness of the kitchen.
The outline of her brother’s coach emerged from the shadows.
The matched blacks lifted their hooves, impatient to be home.
A footman in Dinsmore livery stepped forward, released the steps to the coach, and held the door open.
Elizabeth took a step forward, then turned, more from habit than thought.
She must thank her hostess.
She opened her mouth, but the usual platitudes seemed impossibly absurd.
She wasn’t grateful she’d been invited—she wasn’t glad she’d come.
The evening had turned out far from lovely.
But she was the daughter of an earl, the sister of an earl, schooled in proper manners.
Like carefully crafted clockwork, she said, “Thank you, Lady Anne.”
Anne smiled, a genuine smile that reached her pale-blue eyes and filled them with delight. “My pleasure, Lady Elizabeth.”
“How could you, Elizabeth?” Rafe demanded, a moment after the door to the carriage closed and the horses started forward.
“How do you know?” The question tumbled from her lips.
“How do we know? The same way that everyone in that ballroom knows! Anne’s friends couldn’t wait to tell their friends what they’d seen.
Elizabeth Harcrest seduced by James Dinsmore.
What were you thinking?” He held up his hand as if to halt any explanation she might attempt.
“No, let me amend that…you weren’t thinking.
You never think, Elizabeth, at least not ahead.
I tried to warn you, but you wouldn’t listen… ”
Unwilling to face Rafe or his wife, sitting silently beside him, Elizabeth stared out the window, eyes fixed on the receding lights of the Dinsmores’ estate, aware of the fury in her brother’s voice, but not the actual words he was saying.
As the carriage rolled out of the drive, the house was framed under the arch of a wrought-iron gate emblazoned with the scarlet and white family crest. Unfurled along the bottom in bold gold lettering was the family motto.
Mindlessly, Elizabeth translated the Latin: Honor our shield, vengeance our sword.
“And now,” Rafe concluded, “I haven’t the slightest idea how we shall repair your reputation.”
Alix reached over and took his hand in hers. “We’ll think of something in the morning, when our heads are clearer. Things always look worse at night.”
“Perhaps, Alix.” His hand clenched in a fist. “But in this case, things will look far worse by morning. The Dinsmores’ guests have the remainder of the ball to gossip and speculate… By the time James Dinsmore has finished gloating about how he seduced the Earl of Moreham’s sister…”
“He wouldn’t do that,” Elizabeth broke in.
“He wouldn’t?” Skepticism dripped from Rafe’s voice.
“I know James.”
“Ah, yes, and after this evening, the rest of the ton will know precisely how well.”
“Rafe, enough,” Alix hissed sharply. “I know you are distressed, but there is no reason to be cruel.”
“You’d rather I be kind? Understanding? That I listen to her watery declarations that she’ll mend her ways if I just forgive her one more time?
” He gave an exhausted sigh. When he spoke again, his voice was that of a man who’d aged a lifetime in the past hour.
“I’d like to forgive her, to forget this sordid mess ever happened.
But society will not. There will be no invitations to Almack’s after this—the best parties, the most exclusive circles will be closed to her. As to who might want to marry her now…”
“She’s still sister to the Earl of Moreham and an heiress.”
“Indeed. And after tonight’s events it will be so much easier to sort out the fortune hunters amongst her suitors.”
“In the morning,” Alix said firmly, “we will have a family meeting. We’ll discuss what has happened with Louisa and Madeleine.”
“Louisa? I doubt she’ll have much advice to offer on the subject of Elizabeth’s disgrace.”
“You think not, Rafe Moreham? And why do you think she spends so much time in the garden?”
“Because she likes flowers.”