The church doors opened again. Four women entered, all visibly pregnant, all wearing the cheap, gaudy clothes of women from the lower classes. Behind them came another woman Joan recognized with a jolt of shock: Clara Hartley, Julian’s mistress, looking haggard, angry, pregnant.
And with Clara came two small children, a boy and a girl, perhaps three and four years old respectively.
Julian turned absolutely crimson. His mouth worked soundlessly.
“Do these ladies look familiar to you, Aldridge?” Laurence asked conversationally.
“No,” Julian managed. “I’ve never seen them before in my life.”
“No?” Laurence’s eyebrow rose. “Are you quite certain?”
“Absolutely certain.”
A sixth woman entered, older, with heavily painted features and an expression of grim satisfaction. She was clearly the madam of a brothel, and she carried a leather-bound ledger.
She walked directly to Hugo and handed him the book with a respectful curtsy.
Hugo opened it, flipped through several pages, then looked up with an expression of exaggerated shock.
“How extraordinary!” he announced loudly. “According to the records kept by Mrs. Devonshire here, the Earl of Aldridge is the single largest patron of her establishment. And furthermore,” he paused dramatically, “he is the father of all four unborn children these women carry, as well as the two children present.”
The church erupted. Women gasped and clutched their fans. Men shouted in outrage. The noise was deafening.
“This is nonsense!” Julian screamed. “Lies! All lies! I don’t know these women!”
Laurence gestured to the two toddlers, who clung to Clara’s skirts. “You deny these are your children? We can always search for proof.”
Julian looked around desperately, seeing condemnation on every face.
“Hawthorne here has had two other children with his first mistress and as you can see, she and a few others are still carrying his seeds.”
His eyes found Joan, and he lunged toward her, grabbing her arms.
“Don’t believe them!” he begged. “It’s all fabrication! I don’t know those women! You must believe me!”
Joan rolled her eyes. It was no surprise he had two children. Even Damian and Victoria did not look taken aback.
He whirled to face the pregnant women. “How much did they pay you to lie? I can end you for this! I will have you all arrested for slander!”
One of the pregnant women stepped forward. Her hands shook, but her voice was steady.
“You left this at my lodgings last night, my lord.” She held up a signet ring, Julian’s family crest clearly visible on the gold. “When you came to visit. As you have every Thursday for the past three years.”
The church fell absolutely silent.
Julian’s face went from red to white. He snatched the ring from her hand. “This is… Someone must have stolen it! This proves nothing!”
Joan drew back her hand and slapped him across the face with enough force to make his head snap to the side.
Julian staggered backward. And then, with the desperation of a drowning man, he grabbed Victoria’s arm and pulled her against him.
“Victoria! You love me, don’t you?” His voice was high, almost hysterical. “I love you! I was confused, but I see clearly now. I don’t know these women, I swear it. We can still be married.”
Damian shoved Julian away with brutal force. Joan wrapped her arms around Victoria, pulling her sister behind her.
“Do not touch her,” Joan said coldly. “Do not ever touch my sister again.”
Hugo cleared his throat. “I’m afraid there’s more.”
