Fuckingfinally.
∞∞∞
So this was what it felt like to be the subject of a true scandal. Phoebe found that she didn’t much care for it. There was a difference—quite a profound one—between being a lost cause and ruining one’s reputation, and she could see it scrawled across the faces of the women that Emma had brought with her, shock and horror and derision etched into every line of every face.
Chris, to his credit, had released her the moment it had become clear they had an audience, but it left her feeling bereft and alone, facing the judgment of her peers. The six worst gossips in all of London. And hermother. Emma had done her job well. Perhaps too well.
For a long moment, there was only a thick, immutable silence.
At last, Lady Cartwright said, in a voice dripping with offense, “Well! I suppose we won’t need to search the garden for her after all.”
Mama drew a short, sharp breath, her shoulders setting with determination as she turned abruptly upon her heel to face theother women present. “Ladies, I thank you for your assistance,” she said. “But there isn’t the least need for you to remain. There is nothing to see here.”
“I’ll say there is!” Phoebe didn’t see the speaker, but the horrified delight in the voice was obvious.
“There isnothing,” Mama hissed, her hands jerking through a series of flailing motions meant to secure all attention. “Nothing has happened! Certainly nothing worth mentioning in polite company. Or to anyone. At all.Ever.”
It was a useless demand; Mama might be a viscountess, but she hadn’t the social clout necessary for any of those present even to consider heeding it. There hadn’t been such a delicious morsel of scandal in months; not since Emma had wed Lord Rafe with unseemly haste.
Phoebe knew well enough that Mama was not ashamed of her, exactly—but Mama’s instinctive defense made her just a little ashamed of herself.
She had nothing at all to say in her own defense for it. She had, after all, contrived to be ruined. And what a marvelous job she had done of it.
In the wake of Mama’s fierce demand, the gaggle of gossips made nothing more than vague assurances thatof coursethey could be counted upon to be circumspect about what they had witnessed, but Phoebe could tell by the whispers that slid between them as they turned to go that it would be all over the ballroom in mere moments, and all over London by morning at the very latest.
Mama knew it, too. Her shoulders slumped, and she lifted one hand to her mouth as she heaved a sigh.
Emma stooped to retrieve Chris’ cane, which she handed back to him with a whispered, “You had better be on your way. That’s more than enough drama for the evening.”
Chris fisted the handle of the cane in his hand, and a tiny bitof the tension fled from his face as he braced some of his weight upon it. Phoebe had known, in a way, that the cane was not quiteornamental, not an accessory, as some men were wont to carry. But she suspected he relied upon the cane a good deal more than he would have wanted anyone to know.
“Lady Toogood,” he said, “I’ll call upon your family tomorrow. There’s arrangements to be made.”
For a hasty wedding, she supposed. Her own.
Mama reared back as if he’d struck her with his fist rather than just a few well-chosen words. “No,” she said. “No. Notyou.”
“There really isn’t much of a choice.” The words were cold, flat and frosty with a sort of subtle threat to them. A certain subtext that Mama ought to be grateful that he’d elected to do the honorable thing, since no one could have compelled him to it despite the scandal that would surely follow. That a husband—anyhusband—was preferable to the ruined reputation which Phoebe would otherwise possess.
Emma released a trill of nervous laughter. “Now, now,” she said. “Let’s put off this discussion for the moment. At least until cooler heads may prevail. Come, Phoebe, I’ll escort you back inside.”
Good. That was good—a show of solidarity, and a shoulder to lean on amidst the flurry of gossip that was no doubt already making its way through the crowd. Phoebe slipped her arm through Emma’s and kept her sigh of relief tucked within her cheek until they had made it nearly back to the ballroom.
“Cheer up,” Emma said. “This will be nothing more than a nine days wonder.”
Possibly. But, oh, those nine days promised to be unpleasant ones indeed. “It will be a scandal,” Phoebe said. “I hope I have not caused trouble for you.” She had, however unintentionally, commandeered a philanthropic event.
Emma patted her hand. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “TheTonloves nothing quite so much as a good scandal. I expect next year I’ll be swimming in pleas for invitations.”
∞∞∞
Chris had been waiting for at least half an hour when at last a heartfelt sigh drifted over the garden wall.
“Difficult evening?” he asked.
“You’ve no idea,” Phoebe said. “Papa was furious.”
“I know. There was quite a lot of shouting.” He’d been unable to make out the words, but the general feeling had been clear enough. “Has he got ready access to a pistol, by any chance?”
