“Absolutely.” A day before he would have said no. But now, how could he not? He had helped put her in this situation, his name would always be linked to hers and scandal, and he loved her. Standing there, his hat in his hand, he would beg her to say yes.
“No.” Alex spoke up, shocking him and her father. She’d pulled away from her mother’s arms and raised her chin proudly.
“What?” Rockford asked.
“I won’t marry him, Papa. He came to Lothbrook with the intent to seduce me. He’s as guilty of my ruination as Langley and Darlington. I won’t marry him. Exile me to the country forever, but I willnotmarry him.”
Rockford turned his stunned gaze toward Ambrose, and the earl’s disappointment wounded him anew. “Is this true?”
Ambrose swallowed and then nodded heavily. “Yes—”
“Get out. Get out of my house!” Rockford snarled and lunged toward him. Ambrose stumbled back. It was almost as though the older man had struck him. He moved backward until he stood on the steps of the townhouse, and with one last withering look of disappointment and anger, Rockford slammed the door in his face. It smacked into the frame hard enough that the door knocker rattled.
Ambrose didn’t move for several minutes. He simply stared at the knocker, his heart pounding and bleeding inside. She didn’t want him. Wouldn’t have him as her husband. She didn’t want him in her life or her heart.
What was he going to do now?
“Sir, would you like me to take you back to his lordship’s house?” the driver of the coach asked.
Ambrose nearly said no but thought better of it. He was in a wretched mood, crushed, despondent, and strangely he didn’t wish to be anywhere else and certainly not alone.
“Yes, that would be good.” There was only one person he could stand to be around right now, and that was Vaughn.
They really were damned.
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Chapter 15
“Alex, sweetheart, you haven’t left the house in days,” Lady Rockford said as she entered the small sitting room that faced the street.
Alex was tucked up in the window seat, her slippered feet peeping out from her purple gown. Her cheek rested against the windowpane as she watched the street full of passing carriages and people. Life had gone on outside, just as she known it would, despite her own world crumbling down around her. Talk of her ruination had spread like wildfire the following day. Her mother and father had dealt with the flood of inquiries from friends and acquaintances as well as the withdrawal of invitations from dinners and balls. Their family had become social pariahs in less than a few days.
“Alex, are you listening to me?” Her mother came deeper into the room and put the back of her hand against Alex’s forehead. “You’re still too pale, but you feel fine.”
Alex gently brushed her mother’s hand away. “That’s because Iamfine, Mama.”
“Then why not go out with Perdita? You could go riding on Rotten Row or attend the opera.” Her mother, still a beauty at age forty-one, couldn’t seem to understand why Alex didn’t want to go out and enjoy life. But that’s because her mother loved parties and people. Alex had always liked quiet evenings at home with a friend, or two at most.
“And endure the looks? The whispers? Mama, you think I am unaware of how much this has cost you? Even Papa has felt the sting of my disgrace. He went to White’s today and not one of the men would talk to him. Not one.” Alex’s eyes blurred with tears and she sniffed, hating the wave of self-pity that overcame her. She’d never liked that particular emotion, but the last week had been unbearable. She’d begged her parents to let her go home, but her mother had said she mustn’t run, not from theton. It ought to be faced proudly with one’s chin held high. It was much easier said than done.
“Oh, my poor child.” Her mother joined her on the window seat and cupped her chin to make Alex look at her. “Now it’s time for you to listen. I let you hide when Marshall Clifford broke your heart. That was a mistake. I thought you had too much of your father in you, but I know there is a bit of me in you somewhere. That part of you knows that what those cruel men in the club did was not your fault. You cannot let them shame you. You aremydaughter too. Do you understand? You will stand tall and proud. Anyone who gives you the cut direct for this is not a friend, and they will not be treated as such.”
Alex stared at her mother, and her heart, which seemed to be shredded to pieces in the last week, felt a tiny bit mended. She loved her mother, but until this moment she hadn’t really known how much. They were so different and she’d never felt that close before, but now she felt her mother’s love burning through her, warming her up.
“Oh, Mama.” She hugged her mother.
“There, there, sweetheart,” her mother soothed. “Why don’t you go riding with Perdita? She’s visited every day since you both arrived. I daresay she’s quite lonely. I sent a note over an hour ago, hoping you’d go riding. She should be here soon.”
“Very well.” Alex let go of her mother and went upstairs to change into a riding habit. Her mother might be right. She did feel better at the thought of riding with her friend. By the time she came back down, she found Perdita was waiting for her, looking fine in a blue velvet riding habit.
“Alex.” Her friend beamed at her. “The weather is perfect.”
And sure enough it was. Alex noted this with wry amusement as she and Perdita rode their horses through Hyde Park. The weather was sunny and not overly warm, and a gentle breeze stirred the ringlets of her hair against her neck like the fingers of an invisible lover. There were quite a few people on Rotten Row, as gentlemen escorted ladies. The elegant and intricate dance of courtship was being played out in the park. Alex tried not to focus on the happy couples whispering words of love under the watchful eyes of chaperones.
“Alex, how are you?” Perdita asked as they paused to let their horses rest a good distance away from the crowds.
“I—”
