A Compromised Lady (24 page)

‘And you, Lord Braybrook? What can you add to the story?’ Sir Giles’s voice was non-committal, but Richard could see a muscle flickering at the corner of his mouth.

Braybrook shrugged. ‘What can I add? Very little, sir. Winslow called on me early the following morning to request that I act for him in the affair. He told me that he would not under any circumstances apologise and to make sure we arranged a surgeon.’ He glanced at Thea, and said,

‘Like Fox-Heaton, I had my suspicions about the cause of the quarrel—especially when Miss Winslow vanished so completely from society. I did not communicate these suspicions to anyone.’

He shot an apologetic look at Richard.

Richard nodded in acknowledgment. He could hardly fault Julian for that.

Braybrook continued. ‘As Fox-Heaton told you, we arranged the meeting. Both combatants fired at almost the same instant—Winslow was hit in the left arm and Lallerton high in the leg, severing an artery. The surgeon was unable to stop the bleeding.’

There was a moment’s silence. ‘Mr Lallerton did not delope? He shot to kill?’ asked Sir Giles. He sounded shocked.

Braybrook exchanged a glance with Sir Francis. ‘That would be my opinion. Left side, on a level with the heart—yes. He only missed by a few inches. Fox-Heaton?’

‘Agreed,’ said Sir Francis shortly. ‘He had an ungovernable temper at times and this was one of them. I will say that I did my best to dissuade him from the duel, fearing that he meant to kill Winslow. He would not listen, so I dealt with Braybrook accordingly.’

‘And you, Winslow—had Lallerton retracted his challenge and…apologised…?’

Sir Giles watched Winslow closely.

Winslow bit his lip. ‘What choice would I have had? Had he withdrawn, I must have accepted it—

faced with his challenge, I had no choice but to shoot. To wound.’ Bitterly he added, ‘Whether or not it helped my sister is another matter.’

Silence fell, broken only by the drumming of Sir Giles’s fingers on the desk, as a deepening frown creased his brow. ‘If this had come before a court,’ he said at last, ‘the most likely result, Winslow, is that you would have been acquitted. Duelling may be illegal, but there is very little chance that you would have been convicted, especially given the particular provocation—’he glanced at Thea

‘—and considering the fact that the challenge was not actually yours. Therefore one must conclude that the main reason it was covered up was to protect Miss Winslow’s reputation. Am I correct?’

Winslow nodded. ‘Yes, sir. My father feared that even if it were possible to keep my sister’s name out of it, the attendant speculation would ruin her and the family. Chasewater agreed.’ His lip curled. ‘He too feared the scandal if any of it came out. It did not paint his son in a flattering light.’

Sir Giles continued, ‘Under the circumstances, while I am far from approving of such an affair, I can see little benefit in proceeding any further. To bring you to trial when you would almost certainly be acquitted would serve only to ruin your sister.’

He looked at Thea kindly. ‘Miss Winslow, I can only honour you for having the courage to come here today and tell me this. Given that neither Sir Francis nor Lord Braybrook have breathed a word of their suspicions in the past eight years, I think you may be assured of their continuing discretion. For myself, I can promise that no word of what has been said in this hearing will ever pass my lips.’

‘Then…David is free to go?’ she asked dazedly.

Sir Giles nodded. ‘Quite free.’

Except for Lord Braybrook, who had ridden, they all squeezed into Sir Francis’s carriage to return to Mayfair. Conversation was sporadic. Thea felt incapable of speaking.

Sir Francis handed her down and bowed over her hand. ‘I understand you are going down to Blakeney soon, Miss Winslow.’

‘Yes, sir.’ No doubt he would be relieved that she was unlikely to see much more of Diana.

He smiled. ‘Enjoy your stay. Perhaps you might dine with Diana and myself when you return?’

Her jaw dropped. ‘Sir?’

‘Let Diana know when you return to town. Good day.’

Descending from the carriage with her as well as Richard, David held out his hand to Sir Francis.

‘Thank you, Fox-Heaton.’

Fox-Heaton shook his hand. ‘Not at all, Winslow. That affair has bothered me for years. I’m glad to have it settled at last.’

The carriage rolled away, and Richard, David and Thea looked at each other. David let out a breath. ‘I had best go and relieve Father’s concern that his heir is about either to dance a hempen jig or take up permanent residence on the continent.’ He enveloped Thea in a hug. ‘You never should have put yourself through that for me.’

She shook her head. ‘How could I not?’

He looked awkward. ‘Yes, well.’ He turned to Richard. ‘I’ll leave her with you. Thank you, Blakehurst. For everything. And I suggest you hone your authority!’

He strode off around the square towards Aberfield House, and Richard escorted her inside.

‘That’s it then,’ he said. ‘Your brother is safe thanks to your courage. You can rest easy now.’

She did not contradict him. Yes, David was safe. But there was still something left that she must face.

Half an hour later, Thea gave a hastily written letter to Almeria’s footman. ‘You will deliver this to the lawyers, Sydenham and Beckett, in Lincoln’s Inn Fields. You will make sure that it is delivered directly to Mr Sydenham and you will await a reply.’

‘Yes, miss.’

She gave him money for a cab and a little extra. ‘The reply is to be given directly to me, James. It is understood?’

‘Yes, miss.’

She nodded. ‘Thank you. You may go.’

She sat back with a sigh as he left the drawing room. It was all she could think of. Somehow she had to discover the truth about her child. Was she safe? Happy? She only hoped that she could set it all in motion before she had to travel into Kent. Which reminded her; she had yet to buy a christening gift…Her heart faltered. A gift for a baby. Had anyone bought her baby a christening gift?

She didn’t even know the child’s name. An innocent life, blighted because she had been too frightened…

Shivering, she remembered her father’s reaction: Damned missish behaviour. Of course the marriage must go ahead! As fast as possible from the sounds of it! What the devil did you think happened? Nothing happened that wouldn’t have happened in the marriage bed! You’ll marry Lallerton and there’s an end of it!

The end of it had been that she had threatened to refuse her vows at the altar and state her reasons. Publicly. Even now, the memory of her father’s fury and her mother’s disbelief…but, dearest! He’s so suitable…remained a gaping wound.

Only David had truly understood and believed her. The only one prepared to defend her…He had been in exile on the continent by the time her pregnancy was realised—by the time she realised how reckless she had been in refusing the marriage. The definition of a Pyrrhic victory.

If David had never known the truth, would she have married Lallerton? Probably. Her soul shuddered in horror at the idea, at the memory…yet an innocent child had been condemned as a result of her decision…she didn’t know. She just didn’t know…Hindsight, she thought bitterly, was a two-edged sword.

No one had ever suggested to the terrified sixteen-year-old girl that she might be pregnant. Would she have listened? Would she listen now? Condemn herself to the hell of marriage with a man who would force an innocent girl? Would she give that advice to another? She still didn’t know.

Had they lied about the child to spare her shame? Or because Aunt Maria had found her that day, not long before the birth, her hand on her distended belly, feeling the baby’s squirming, watching it through the fabric stretched over the mound of her pregnancy. Through her fear and humiliation there had been wonder that a life was blossoming within her. She could feel no hatred for that life, only wonder…curiosity to meet it. Had Aunt Maria seen that? She had certainly read her errant niece a savage lecture on the fruits of sin…and Aunt Maria had tipped that dose of laudanum down her throat after the delivery. Yes. It was more than possible. But did she have the courage to find out? What would she do with the knowledge? Would it be better not to know any more? Even now it was possible to back away. When Sydenham’s letter came, she could write that she had changed her mind, no longer needed…

A very quiet voice spoke behind her. ‘Thea? I thought you would be resting.’

Richard.

‘Are you quite all right?’ There was a world of gentleness and concern in his voice.

Determinedly, she turned, daring the tears to fall. She saw his mouth twist, saw his hand stretch out to her and stepped back, lifting her chin. If he held her, it would all come spilling out, all the pain, the guilt, the terrified confusion…

She summoned a smile. ‘I…I was just wondering, thinking about a christening gift for your godson.

Do you…do you think something for a baby would be acceptable or ought I to choose something for the future?’

His hand dropped to his side and she rushed on, covering the stab of pain. ‘Of course, a girl would be far simpler; jewellery, you know. Although I dare say it would be sadly dated, by the time—’

‘Are you feeling quite the thing?’ he asked, cutting into her babble. ‘Thea—if you are thinking that because I wish our betrothal to stand—you must know I would never force anything upon you, no matter how much the idea of marrying you might tempt me—’

He stopped, an odd, taut expression in his eyes.

‘Of course I know that,’ she assured him. ‘It…it is as I said—the christening gift. Indeed, once I have made my decision I planned to summon a maid to accompany me out to buy the present.’

‘Consider me summoned,’ he said with a wrenching smile.

‘You! But you’re not—’

‘Not a maid. No.’ He heaved a lugubrious and wholly spurious sigh. ‘I suppose it is rather obvious, but I did hope you wouldn’t hold it against me.’

‘But—’

That smile—the one that a merciful providence should outlaw—demolished all her defences, all the cogent reasons why she should not accept his escort. Like the fact that it would give further credence to the belief that they were on the verge of announcing their betrothal. Although after last night accepting his escort was a mere bagatelle. Richard had publicly nailed his colours to her mast last night and this morning. And she would have to tear them down. Just as publicly.

‘What do you think I should buy?’ She gulped. Why on earth had she asked that? Thinking about babies and all the might-have-beens in connection with Richard was guaranteed to shred the remaining rags of her peace.

He smiled. ‘Well, I made those little horses to hang above the cradle. What about something to hang with them?’

She remembered the little bird she had found in The Box. If things had been different, would she have given it to her child? The child she had condemned…perhaps wilfully. Would God have been more merciful if not for her foolish pride and fear? Could she simply alleviate the lot of SG without ever seeing her…a child was a child after all…perhaps helping her lost baby anonymously would ease that pain so long denied…?

She forced the pain back, back into its dark corner, and faced Richard. ‘I could buy some bells to hang above the cradle with them.’

His smile reached deep. ‘A wonderful idea. Shall we go now?’

Thea blinked. ‘But where?’ For the life of her she couldn’t think where one might go in London to buy such a thing.

Richard raised his brows. ‘Weren’t you ever taken to see the beasts at the Exeter’ Change when you were little? And then permitted to spend your pin money at the stalls downstairs afterwards?

It’s exactly the sort of place to find bells.’ He grinned. ‘Unless you had something more ambitious in mind and planned to steal them from St Paul’s belfry?’

‘The Exeter’ Change will do very well,’ she told him primly. ‘Shall we walk or do you prefer to take a hackney? I know you won’t wish to keep your horses standing.’

‘Walk, if you would like,’ said Richard. ‘We can always take a hackney home.’

A funny little spurt of pleasure buoyed her: walking meant more time spent with him. Quietly. With no one to disturb their friendship. She bit her lip, banishing a flicker of hope that their friendship might be something more. For both of them.

She could not in honour encourage his suit. But still that little voice whispered: Why should he ever know?

T hey found the bells easily enough as it turned out, at a fascinating stall in the Exeter’ Change on the Strand. Richard watched Thea surreptitiously as they strolled around the stalls afterwards. She appeared perfectly in command of herself, but he could not banish the memory of her eyes when she turned to him in the drawing room. For an instant, before she began babbling about christening gifts, he had felt that he was gazing into a well of utter despair. For a moment her guard had been down and he had seen a pain she hid from everyone. Even from him.

The instinct to go to her, to hold her, had been nearly overwhelming, but the memory of her terrified reaction the other day had held him back. That day she had scarcely seemed to know where she was, let alone who he was. As if she had been flung into a waking nightmare…and the horror in her eyes when she realised that it was him…He swallowed—that haunted him.

He had held her since then, of course, but today had been like that day—as though she had looked into a living hell. All that babble about a christening gift! Had she thought to throw dust in his eyes? Or simply to hold herself together after what she had been through already that day? Lord, her courage shamed him.

‘Shall we leave now, Richard?’

He looked down at her and smiled. A little sadly. He had enjoyed just being with her like this.

Quietly. But she looked tired, her eyes shadowy.

‘Did you sleep again last night, Thea?’

‘Of course,’ she said.

There was no ‘of course’ about it. Except possibly that, of course, she was lying.

He gave her a considering sort of look and her eyes fell before it. ‘Hmm. You do know that you are a terrible liar, don’t you? We’ll take a hackney.’