“Lady Clara, the daughter of the Duke of Claremore, unexpectedly tumbled into the Serpentine. Had it not been for the dashing American scoundrel her fate could have been much worse than a wet frock. Dare I say a moment passed between them after her rescue?”
Clara winced at the last sentence. She wondered what her mother was most upset about—that Sam was a scoundrel or that he was not a peer. “Mother, I would have drowned if Mr. Kincaide hadn’t rescued me. Henry fell in, and I was attempting to pull him out.”
“You should have never put yourself in such a position and to let someone like Sam Kincaide rescue you. It is unacceptable,” her mother hissed quietly.
Heat rushed to Clara’s face. “Mother—”
“What is this about a moment between the two of you? Do you know how much this could jeopardize your chances to be matched with an acceptable family?”
Of course, that was what her mother was focused on, not the fact that she almost drowned but her suitability to wed in the upper echelons of the ton.
“Luckily for us, the Marquess of Dolan is a close family friend, and he will excuse your outlandish behavior.”
Clara took a moment, closing her eyes as the repulsion washed over her. It would be Dolan. She wanted to scream that she didn’t want him, that he made her skin crawl, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good. Sinclair had been a silly dream she and Diana had hoped for. Her parents' ridiculously high standards only allowed for them to marry a duke and if none were available a marquess. Besides Sinclair, all other dukes were too young or attached.
Not wanting to fight with her mother, she nodded meekly and said, “I apologize again, Mother. It won’t happen again.”
Her mother smiled, her perfect society smile, but Clara could still see the fury in her eyes. “Make sure that it doesn’t. Dolan has taken quite a liking to you. Even if he is not a duke, he is a marquess, very well-connected, and a close family friend. We don’t want him doubting your purity or decorum because you don’t know how to behave while visiting Hyde Park.”
Clara knew it would do no good to defend herself. A lifetime of selfish decisions by her parents had proven her thoughts and opinions didn’t matter.
“Yes, Mother.”
Her mother turned without another word and left the room. Clara sank down in the chair and took a deep breath. She would not shed a tear for herself. At least being married, she would have freedom from her parents. Perhaps her marriage to Dolan would be like Diana and Hensley’s marriage, not a love match but filled with admiration and respect. She shivered. For some reason something about Dolan made her nervous. She pushed the thought away. What more could she ask for? He was a highly respectable member of the ton.
Clara took a deep breath and opened the leather box. She slowly started sorting the dissection pieces. Sam was right, there was something relaxing about the process, but deep down Clara wondered if what made it relaxing was that it was her only connection to perhaps the one person she considered her friend.
~
Sam stood with Simon Miller and Sebastian Devons in one of the private rooms of their gentlemen’s club, the Den. They were waiting for Lila to return after settling her young friend into one of the small cottages contained on the grounds. They were typically used for liaisons, but Sam thought that for now one of them was a good spot to hide Abigail. The doctor entered the room, shaking his head.
“Atrocious. Every part of her body is bruised. Whoever did this, did it for their own personal enjoyment. The girl is lucky she survived this long.”
“Do you think this is the first time?” Sam asked.
The doctor scowled. “No, her abuser has been hurting her for quite some time. Her bruises and cuts are all in different stages of healing. She needs time to recover.”
Sam clenched his glass in anger. He hoped like hell that Lila came back with a name because he would make sure the gentleman never touched another woman again.
“She can stay here for as long as she needs,” Devons said.
Miller nodded, looking like he wanted to murder whoever the gentleman in question was. The doctor handed some papers to Sam. “I have already given Lila medicine and dosage information, but just in case, I have also written the instructions down here. If her condition worsens, please send for me.”
Sam nodded. “Thank you.”
They were silent until the doctor left.
“Who do you think it is? You know more of the ton’s quirks and preferences,” Sam asked Devons.
Devons scowled at him, clearly offended. “We don’t deal in physical harm to people.”
“Everyone who comes through these doors knows that any woman here has the right to choose who she spends time with, and we don’t condone violence,” Miller stated.
“I don’t doubt that, but you have to hear rumors,” Sam said.
Lila entered the room, looking so different from her normal vibrant self. Her face was blotchy, and her eyes were red.
"She is resting. Thank you all for helping with this."
