Lyman watched the spark in Miss Danby’s eyes dim as he laid out the future that awaited him. His name would be spoken in hushed whispers at dinner parties, as a warning of the lows to which a man could fall. It wasn’t as though he had much of a place in high society as it stood now, with his means so reduced. But this would put him in another category entirely. People might not want to buy his books anymore. The wealthy families who hired him to tutor their sons might not want him in their homes. How was he to support himself?
“Whatever passed between you and your wife, I’m sure you aren’t capable of that.” She had such trust in her voice that it made Lyman ashamed. He didn’t deserve it.
“Which part, the adultery or the intolerable cruelty?”
“I wouldn’t want to speculate on your romantic entanglements. You may tell me if you wish, and I will take you at your word, for you’ve been very frank with me about your failings thus far. Were you unfaithful to Lady Ashton?”
It was an indecorous question. A few weeks ago, he might have reacted with shock. But they’d moved past formality now, the exchange between them passing into the sort of openness Lyman might have shared with a close friend. So he answered her honestly.
“Not while we still lived in the same house. After we separated,and it became clear I could never atone for what I’d done, I formed a few connections over the years. But I was always careful that no one should be harmed by it.”
“I don’t think anyone could blame you, once your wife had made it clear reconciliation was impossible.” Miss Danby’s tone was matter-of-fact, as if they were discussing nothing more shocking than the weather. “And as for cruelty, I’m sure you aren’t guilty of that. It would seem you have little to worry about. They won’t be able to make their case.”
“I cost her everything. Her chance to marry a better man and start a family, the house where we lived, even her dowry, which should have been settled on our future children. What else would you call it? You don’t know me well enough to judge my character, Miss Danby.”
“I know you aren’t a violent man, which must be the primary concern in a case of divorce,” she persisted. “I’ve certainly annoyed you enough in our brief acquaintance that I should have seen some sign of it by now, if you were.”
Lyman smiled, in spite of himself. “You haven’t annoyed me. You simply have a penchant for taking risks which make me uneasy. But very well, I’ll own that I’m not a violent man. Does that mean I haven’t been cruel through my own recklessness, even if I regret it?”
But Miss Danby refused to concede any ground. “Notintolerablyso.”
A laugh escaped his lips. Bless her stubbornness.
“I’ll call you as a witness, shall I? To prove that there is at least one person in all of London who considers me tolerable.”
“I would be happy to attest as much.” The smile on her lips fell away slowly. “Truly, if there is something I can do, will you tell me? There must be some way you can defend yourself.”
She was on his side. There was no rational reason she should be, now that she knew of his worst mistake, but she was.
Would her loyalty endure once his name was splashed across the front page for days on end, alongside the details of Ellen’s devastation and whatever lurid stories of adultery they would contrive? It almost made Lyman regret what he had to say next.
“No. I won’t fight their claims. After everything I’ve done to that family, the least I can do is to let them try to get their divorce, however they think best.”
“You can’t mean it!” At last, Miss Danby showed some sign she was angry with him, though it was aimed at the wrong part of his actions. “Not defend yourself? You’ll let them say whatever they wish about you, even if it isn’t true?”
“I owe her that much.”
He could never repay his debts to Ellen. Never restore what he’d cost her. The money he sent every month was a pittance, like throwing pennies down a yawning black well to wish for a chance to live his life over again. If she ruined what was left of his good name to find her own freedom, maybe it would finally feel like he’d made amends.
Miss Danby held her tongue, though her expression betrayed furious disagreement.
“You can get away while there’s still time,” he continued. “Sever your connection with me before I become infamous.”
“Lord Ashton,” she admonished, “I am the proprietress of a gambling house. If I were to cut ties with you for your history engaging in the same activity I’m peddling, I should be nothing but a hypocrite.” Her tone cooled as she added, “I detest hypocrites.”
She was clear and resolute, without a trace of hesitation. Should he have expected anything less? He’d seen it from the very first day they met; she lived as she saw fit and made no apologies for it. It made him wish that he could accept her support.
She was admirable, in her own way. But she’d never been made to pay a price for her actions. With her indulgent parents, and hercharm and wit, Miss Danby had thus far managed to walk the fine line between scandal and social acceptability.
He didn’t want to be the one to bring it all crashing down upon her head.
“I fear you’ll regret your choice when you see the worst of it,” he said. “I could ruin you, Miss Danby. I don’t want to have that on my conscience as well.”
“Ruin me…?” She arched an eyebrow and took a sip of her tea, though it must have been cold by now.
Incorrigible. Lyman’s blood heated as he remembered all that had passed between them, which was no doubt her intent. He wanted to repeat their transgression. No, heachedfor it. Not only for the meeting of desires, but to find the comfort she offered so freely. He could use some comfort today.
Instead, he said, “You should take this far more seriously.”
