The Outcast Earl (34 page)

When Abby smiled at that instead of looking scared, Charles had to restrain himself from chasing her down and kissing her senseless. It was just that good to have her with him.

Chapter Sixteen

Fiona was alone in the library, her face drawn and saddened, when Abigail returned. Abigail’s eyes went to the empty place on the settee, but Fiona grimaced. Setting aside her tea, she explained, “I asked Aunt Betsy if we could talk privately. It’s not that I won’t tell her, but I have to tell you first.”

Abigail sighed. “If it’s about Genevieve, I already know. I mean, Charles heard this morning from his man of affairs, at least what was in
The Times
. And no, Aunt Betsy doesn’t know, yet.”

“Charles?”

Abigail frowned. “Meriden. The earl. You know, the man I’m marrying the day after tomorrow.”

Fiona grimaced again. “This is such a mess. I don’t
understand.
Well, that’s not true. I do understand.
Now
. But I didn’t before. And I don’t
accept
it.”

“What are you talking about?” Abigail frowned. “It’s about money—”

“No, it’s not,” Fiona broke in angrily. “I mean, Meriden has mostly cleaned up the worst of Winchester’s financial mess. It wasn’t until last night that I finally bullied Mother into the truth, and then I was so angry with Winchester and he just
stood there smirking
—”

“Fiona, I don’t understand,” Abigail interrupted. “I think you’d better start somewhat earlier.”

Fiona looked at her sister for a long moment, then sighed wearily. “You’re not going to like it, Abigail. It’s worse than you can imagine.”

“Whatever it is, it will have to be faced eventually,” Abigail pointed out quietly.

“Well, at least it will provide a good reason to end this farce of a marriage you’ve been forced into,” Fiona mused.

Abigail’s eyes widened. She shook her head.

“My God, you
want
to marry him?” Fiona grasped Abigail’s dismay quickly. “Abigail, all of London knows that he’s a moody, black-hearted man—”

“No,” Abigail broke in fiercely. “He’s
nothing
like that. I mean, I know his reputation, but it’s just
that
. When he was in London, before, when the rumours started, he was in constant pain and trying to hide his war injuries, and his grandfather was dying while he had to stay in London and recover enough to travel home. So maybe he cut a few diamonds of the first water, but he’s a
far better
man than Father has ever been to me. Don’t treat him like the pompous ass you’ve assumed him to be.”

Fiona blinked at her, then shook her head. “Now I really don’t want to tell you,” she whispered.

“Just start at the beginning. I assume we’ll get to Genevieve and that disreputable rake before the end?”

Nodding, Fiona blinked. She stood up, walked across the room and abruptly opened the door. Finding no one there, she closed it gently and snibbed the lock.

“This isn’t Winchester House, Fiona. The staff here will not tell tales.” Abigail delivered the injunction firmly. “As for Charles, it sounds as though I’m going to end up crying it out on his shoulder anyway.”

“Maybe, maybe not, Abigail. You might decide to keep this to yourself,” Fiona whispered, sitting down close to her. “Gloria says she’ll never tell, and that her marriage will go forward. I knew you disliked March, but I’d never paid much attention. So when you turned up engaged to an outcast earl, I got suspicious. I watched March. He disparages Gloria even in public, even leers at her in front of Mother. I mean, I understand the tiara, and I know Gloria is hoping he’ll turn into a model husband, but I started asking. He has a
terrible
temper. Among the
demimonde
, he’s apparently famous for beating his mistresses to the point they can’t walk, sometimes never to recover.”

Abigail sighed. “I told Meriden he was mean, Fiona, but I talked to Gloria about this before I left. She apparently told March he was welcome to do whatever he wanted with the women he paid for, but she was staying at Lennox House in London with the duke. She believes residing in his father’s home will curb March’s violence, at least towards her. Apparently Lennox and March agreed to the plan. Lennox knows of his son’s predilections and Mother insisted on Gloria’s behalf.”

“
Mother
? Mother will say whatever she has to, to survive this fiasco—no, wait, I’ll explain.” Fiona took a deep breath. “Anyway, Winchester went into this knowing exactly how dangerous March is.
Lennox
apparently provided the money for Gloria’s dowry, separated it from the ducal estate, and put Uncle Neil in charge of it, just as he administers what remains of Mother’s trust.”

Abigail looked a little lost, so Fiona asked gently, “What about you, Abigail? Are you dependent on Meriden?”

“Yes,” Abigail answered absently, pensive. “Meriden provided a settlement to me and administers it during his lifetime. He took Aston Manor and Aston House from Father, you know. Aston Manor he deeded to me directly in trust, and provided me with a generous capital to produce an allowance until the manor is rehabilitated and becomes profitable.”

Fiona looked a bit shocked at that, but continued. “So there I was, seeing you and Gloria thrown to the wolves,” she murmured. “And on Saturday morning I went downstairs for breakfast, opened the paper, and there it was.”

“Genevieve?”

“I went directly to Mother, woke her up, screamed at her. I swear, she didn’t know either, and she started crying. I told her—I
begged
her—to go to Winchester and make him break the engagement. You know how Genevieve is. And
Peter Devon
? I mean, honestly, besides the fact that he’s the most infamous gambler in London, I can’t imagine a stranger match. Anyway, Winchester heard us arguing. Mother said she couldn’t make the engagement go away if it was in the papers, and that she didn’t have any way to force the issue with Winchester. The next thing I knew, he came through the door of his room and told me to get out of Mother’s room, and to keep my opinion on Genevieve’s marriage to myself, because it would happen.”

Abigail sighed. She could imagine the scene—her father in a temper was something to behold. It happened rarely but was always memorable. “Why are you calling Father by his title?” she asked instead.

Fiona laughed bitterly. “He sacrificed any
fatherly
role later. I left, pulled myself together, and went to Lady Theresa. She was as numb with shock as the rest of us—she’d had no idea Winchester and Devon had hatched any sort of plan. She’d summoned her son but he hadn’t yet appeared, and all she could tell me with any certainty is that she’d do what she could to protect Genevieve physically and socially.” Fiona shook her head. “She thought it would be rough, at least socially.”

Abigail looked worried. “So you went back to Father—”

“He’d gone out to his clubs, stayed away the whole day. Mother was doing her best to deal confidently with the callers, but Genevieve had to be there, you know, and it was apparent she was terrified. She’s never even met the man, and the first she knew of it was when Mother told her that morning. Devon never showed his face, thank God, or I might have hit him over the head with something hard and heavy. By the time those snickering, shocked
paragons
of society stopped goggling and left us alone, Genevieve couldn’t take any more. She broke down in tears and ran off. Mother was exhausted, but I was so angry I didn’t give a damn. I locked us in the drawing room and demanded to know why she wasn’t
protecting
you—all of you—any better.”

“And she actually gave you an answer?” Abigail looked her in disbelief.

“Not immediately. She stumbled around about it for a bit, but eventually she confessed it all.” Fiona stopped, rubbed her temples and sighed. “It started just before we went to Brighton. I mean, it
started
years ago, but Winchester only found out that week we went to Brighton.”

“What started?” Abigail asked patiently. If Fiona didn’t get to the point straight away, Abigail was going to scream.

Fiona stood up and paced, then finally blurted out, “Winchester caught her in an
affaire
with someone—she wouldn’t say who. Literally. I mean, he walked in on them. Together. In dishabille. Lord, do you even know what I’m talking about?”

Abigail had a fairly good grasp of the possibilities by now. “Yes,” she answered briefly, blushing.

Fiona’s eyes widened. “He’s—he’s done
that?
”

“I’m being educated—and I use the term advisedly—on the exact process. By Aunt Betsy. By books in the library here. And, yes, by Charles. While I’m still a virgin, I’m not precisely
innocent
any longer.”

Looking a bit faint, Fiona shook her head. “I thought you said he
wasn’t
a pompous ass?”

“He’s been perfectly honourable, Fiona,” Abigail said softly. “The only things he’s forced on me have resulted in more pleasure and satisfaction than I could have ever imagined. And if I’d been better educated at home about what to expect in conjugal relationships, Aunt Betsy wouldn’t have been put in the awkward position of having to explain it to me.”

Fiona bit her lip. “I want to ask for details, but—”

“No, no, go on. Later, if you like, so you know what to expect when your turn comes.”

Fiona shook her head frantically. “Never,” she said vehemently. “So, anyway, Winchester caught her, in the act, so to speak and in the ensuing argument it came out that Mama had been having an affair—has had affairs—for years. Winchester was furious, though why he should be, I fail to understand. It’s not as though he hasn’t kept a mistress of his own since before they were married and ignored Mother since we were children.”

Abigail’s eyes widened and her stomach dropped. “Years?” she asked faintly.

Fiona nodded soberly. “Eventually, Mother said something she can’t ever take back.” Fiona looked up at Abigail, her eyes clouded now by grief and worry. “Mother told him that Johnny wasn’t his.”

Abigail felt ill and faint. Her head rang with warning bells. She licked her lips, and finally said it. “That means, that means…that he might not be my father either,” she whispered.

Fiona exhaled angrily. “And yes, Mother eventually admitted to him you were not his either—I understood her to mean you and Johnny had the same sire—but I gather she didn’t name names. I have no idea who Gloria’s sire is, but Genevieve’s sire is apparently the man that Winchester found with Mother, and the engagement to Devon was arranged in secret as revenge. As for me, Winchester rates it as possible he fathered me. At least we have the same hair colour, not that it’s uncommon in England. He had the
gall
to tell me not to lose my head over it, that I shouldn’t care what happened to you three, you were nothing more than—no, I
shan’t
say it. Regardless of whether Winchester sired any of us, you are my
sisters
.”

Unable to stop the roaring in her head, Abigail clenched her fingers on her scalp. She thought she might be numb. “So he’s punishing us,” she whispered.

“The marriages are to punish
Mother
and humiliate her.” Fiona’s voice was unmistakably bitter. “Genevieve’s marriage is also to punish her sire, no doubt, whom Mother has loved in silence for, well, at least seventeen years. Your lives are collateral damage, which just goes to show how much of a beast he really is. When I finally confronted him late that night, he said to me that he’d been cuckolded for more than two decades, and it was her turn to be humiliated. As for me, he said he couldn’t force me to marry or take away my inheritance, given my age, but he could damn well stop supporting me if he wished.”

Abigail could feel her hands shaking. All of the incomprehensible behaviour that had led to her engagement suddenly made perfect sense. “He found the three worst husbands he could manage, within the acceptable limits of class, and forced us on them,” she concluded faintly. “But, but Meriden went to
him
.”

“He actually laughed about that, said it seemed like divine providence—why in hell did Meriden purchase those debts and show up at Winchester House that day, anyway? He got the idea to make these matches when Meriden stepped in, apparently on the hunt for a respectable bride.” Fiona stood and paced up and down before the fireplace, her hands behind her back. “Anyway, I laughed in his face and said he’d just resigned the role of
possible
father and I wouldn’t spend another night under his roof. He called me a tramp’s get. I told him he was nothing more than a self-serving bastard who deserved whatever debtor’s prison he ends up in.”

“You’ve never known how to do anything halfway,” Abigail said, still listening but now staring at the portrait above the fireplace of Meriden’s mother and father, desolation on her face. “Though he’ll never go to prison, what with the title.”

“I went upstairs, changed and called for a hackney. I left Frenchie packing my things and arranging for a carriage, and went out alone. And yes, I know it was scandalous, but what I had to do was scandalous. I went looking for Devon.”

Abigail sat up. “Fiona!” she gasped.

“I did go to the Green Salon. It wasn’t that much different from Almack’s, to tell the truth, only the lighting was dimmer and the refreshments were champagne and whisky instead of lemonade. I saw people I knew of both genders. They were shocked to see me until I said what I wanted. As they didn’t wish me to stay, or to remember where I’d seen them while calling on their mothers someday in the future, they pointed me to one of the hells on St James Street. So yes, I left and went there.”

Eyes wide, Abigail shivered. In London, her world had been falling apart, while she’d been indulging in pleasure beyond comprehension.

“In the end, I found him and dragged him off for a private chat. It was a damn good thing I did, too, or I might have kidnapped Genevieve and brought her with me. As it happens, Winchester had originally intended to marry Genevieve to General Malone.”