“Leave you unchaperoned?” Her sister placed a hand to her breast in a poor imitation of horror. “I couldn’t possibly. I’m sure Mama and Papa would never forgive me.”
“Privacy,” she repeated. “Or Mama and Papa will learn who really took that bottle of wine they thought Thomson had stolen, which younever paid mefor replacing.”
With a glare to ignite the house, Annabelle rose to her feet and exited the room.
Finally.
Della turned back to Lord Ashton, feeling suddenly shy. Trying to resume the path of their conversation was like stepping into a pair of ill-fitting shoes. She wasn’t quite sure how to move forward without tripping. “Yes, I heard the rumor.” She paused here, in case he wished to dispute it, but he held his tongue. The weight of the silence grew oppressive, between the soft clicking of the grandfather clock. “I know it’s…none of my business,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
“It wouldn’t matter if you pried; the story would have reached you sooner or later. It always does.” He offered her a joyless smile, his eyes shadowed. “My deepest shame is never far behind me.”
He looked so hopeless under the weight of this confession that it moved Della to pity. She wanted to take him in her arms and reassure him, despite what he’d done.
“I don’t think any less of you for it,” she assured him.
“Miss Danby.” His tone sharpened, grazing across her name like a whetstone. “Youmustthink less of me for it. I think less of myself for it, and I would be disappointed in you if you did otherwise.”
Della didn’t know what to say to that, so she said nothing. She had no idea how she should behave in such circumstances.
A moment later, Lord Ashton sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken to you harshly. You were trying to be kind, but I’m afraid I can’t tolerate much kindness in this matter.”
Della hardly knew what to do with herself.What happened?she wanted to ask.What made you lose your reason so completely?But any answer he could give would only add to his humiliation. If he were insensibly drunk when he’d done it, or if he were goaded on by his friends, would that make it any better?
“That’s why you dislike gambling,” she finally ventured.
He confirmed this with a sharp nod. “I haven’t set foot in a gaming house since that day. Nor shall I, for as long as I live.”
Della’s face grew hot with the memory of how she’d behaved at their meetings. That note she’d sent him last week inviting him to meet her at Bishop’s.Was that why he changed his mind about me?
“I’m so sorry. I must have seemed like I was provoking you. I never would have tried to persuade you that you should visit my club, or argued with you about your views on gambling, if I’d had any idea—”
“Don’t think of it,” Ashton said quickly, as if her remorse, too, were difficult for him. “If I were to be angry with you, I should be angry with half of Britain. Card play is only rivaled in its popularity by horse racing and dice.”
What must it be like to be hounded by reminders of your folly wherever you went? Della couldn’t imagine. Thus far, she’d been remarkably successful at keeping the consequences of her own follies at bay.
“You will perhaps want to call an end to our meetings, now that you know what I’m capable of.” Was that regret in his tone? “I would understand if you did.”
“Nonsense.” Della didn’t even need to consider her reply. “You told me at the outset I was risking my reputation, and it never stopped me. Why should I turn back now? I’ve rather grown to like you.”
Lord Ashton watched her for a long moment, his green eyes suddenly gentle. Thatwasregret, and she hadn’t imagined it. “I’ve grown to like you too,” he said softly.
It was such a modest declaration, said in that measured way of his. Yet it was enough to make her heart do a little somersault.
“But your opinion of me shouldn’t be your only guide.” He still wore a grim expression. “There’s something else I should tell you. I had a visit from my wife’s brother last week. She wants a divorce.”
Oh my.If Della had been without a map for the first half of this conversation, now she was utterly lost. He could be free. Not for her, of course. But forsomeone. Himself, perhaps. Would it be rude to express hopeful sentiments?
“Are you… Do you want a divorce?”
“It promises to ruin my life.”
Yes, it would definitely be rude.
Della bit her lip and waited.
“I thought there wasn’t much left to ruin, but they’ve filed proceedings before Consistory Court, and they’re planning to go before Parliament for a private bill as soon as they have their judgment in hand. They’ll have to prove adultery and intolerable cruelty to succeed. Do you understand what’s in store? Every witness they candrum up to testify will have their words printed in the papers, and I’ll be lucky if I’m not the most hated man in London by the time the year is out.” He held her gaze for a long time. “That friend of yours, Miss Chatterjee, saw us together the other day. Not to mention anyone who might have been in the crowd at the Waterloo Bridge. You should end your association with me if you don’t want to be caught up in the talk.”
***
