Lady Worthing’s lip curled into an unbecoming sneer. “She didn’t look innocent, the manner in which she was gazing up at you whilst you carried her in your arms. Do you know, Torrie, that you have never once carried me in such fashion?”
“She was going to ruin her slippers in the rain.”
Eugenia wrenched her arm free and whirled away again. “I’ll pitch her slippers into the fire myself!”
This was going deuced poorly. Torrie ran a hand over his jaw, wishing his head wasn’t thumping with such ferocity. Wishing he had never agreed to this madcap scheme of kidnapping Eugenia, so that he might have avoided this entire, dreadful mess altogether.
“There’s no need for cruelty,” he chided, although he knew he should hold his tongue.
But enduring Eugenia’s virulence was putting him in quite the vile mood himself. A man could only listen to so much nonsense before the threads of his patience wore thin. Yes, he had done something foolish. But he had also done everything in his power to make it right. He had ensured the silence of the grooms who had witnessed their disastrous confrontation in the mews. He had apologized, damn it. And yet, she continued to heap insults and accusations. Unfounded ones.
He had done nothing untoward to Miss…to the governess. His head was aching, his brain more muddled than it customarily was, his back ached, and the pain in his bones which always renewed its vigor when it rained had returned.
But Eugenia, it seemed, was not finished.
She stalked toward him in a rage, and before he realized her intent, he knew the sting of her palm slapping his cheek. “How dare you defend her after all you have done? How dare you choose her over me?”
He sighed heavily. “All I ask is that you not dismiss the girl in the morning.”
“And have to face her every day after this humiliation?” the countess scoffed. “Never. There is nothing you can do or say to change my mind, Torrie.”
He reckoned therewasone thing he could do. One thing hehadto do, regardless of the horror it struck in his soul.
He didn’twantto do it.
God, if there were any other means of extricating himself from this bloody contretemps in one piece, he would. However, after cheating fate for far too long, it would appear that Torrie was finally being forced to pay for his many, many sins. Both remembered and forgotten.
He rubbed his smarting cheek, pinning his former mistress with a stern glare of his own. “Actually, Eugenia, thereisone thing I can do.”
“Oh?” She laughed, as if he had just told her the greatest sally. “Do tell, darling. Whatever shall you do?”
He held the countess’s stare, unflinching. “I’ll marry her.”
And for the first time in their acquaintance, he’d stunned the Countess of Worthing into complete and utter silence.
* * *
Elizabeth’sgreatest fears had come to fruition.
Only, worse.
Because Lady Worthing did not possess enough compassion to wait until the morning to dismiss her from her post. Instead, she had forced a housemaid from her bed, demanding that Elizabeth be informed that she was to pack her belongings at once and leave.
And so, once again, she was without a roof over her head, without hope, and not even a letter to recommend her for a future situation. Clutching her valise and holding her head as high as she could manage given the circumstances and her fervent efforts to avoid weeping, Elizabeth stepped into the mews. On her back, she wore a serviceable redingote, which had been one of Lady Andromeda’s castoffs, a parting gift. The only bonnet she owned had been tied firmly beneath her chin with trembling fingers. Every possession she possessed and wasn’t presently wearing—two gowns, her satin slippers, a book, some hair pins, a brush, a cap, some gloves, and one spare petticoat and chemise—had been stuffed into her valise.
Cold, unforgiving night air greeted her as she stepped into the darkened mews where Lord Torrington’s carriage remained. At least the rain of earlier had ceased. But although it was the height of foolishness to feel a pang of disappointment that he was off in Lady Worthing’s arms, Elizabeth couldn’t seem to tamp it down. The mews was quiet as she passed through, head tucked down, wondering where she might next go. Lady Andromeda was no longer in London. Elizabeth had scarcely enough funds remaining from what little she had managed to save of her wages, sewn into the lining of her valise.
Perhaps she might find rooms that would accept a respectable lady. But how to do so in the depths of the night?
The wind blew, cutting through her redingote and making her shiver as the door to Lord Torrington’s carriage swung open. She was astounded to find the viscount descending in the low glimmer of the carriage lamplight. His handsome face was somber and pale as his greatcoat whipped around him and he offered her his arm.
“Come, if you please.”
His politely worded command, issued in his velvet-smooth voice, gave Elizabeth pause. Her well-worn boots stopped on the cobblestones and she stared at him, misgiving blossoming inside her like a hothouse rose.
“What are you doing here, my lord?” she asked, eying his extended arm.
“Awaiting you, my dear.” He sighed. “Hoping Eugenia would see reason, it’s true. But it would seem I’m destined for disappointment this evening.”
