Milnthorpe huffed. “With the door closed.”
“It closed by itself,” Louisa said, instantly aware of how desperate that sounded.
Sybella’s responding huff implied a similar opinion. “Do not deem to defend her, Maxwell,” she said. “It seems obvious she is playing some kind of game and has been caught out.”
“That is not true, Miss Chessington.” Louisa’s voice sounded strange to her ears; shrill, edged in panic. “As Mr. Harlow stated, we shared a brief conversation. Nothing more than that.”
“Utterly inappropriate, nonetheless,” Lord Richmond said.
“And very possibly deceptive,” Milnthorpe added. “Lady Henrietta has already testified to your previous lie.”
Louisa gasped. “But I’ve already explained—”
“That is quite enough!” Maxwell’s angry exclamation made her jump. “Say nothing else, Miss Northcott. The continuance of this argument is futile. These people have already made up their minds and may the truth be damned. You need to find your father and tell him what has occurred. Do you hear me?”
Louisa regarded him for a moment, seeing something in his eyes. A fleeting glimmer, there and gone. Sadness? No. Regret, possibly. “I am truly sorry, Mr. Harlow,” she said, fighting tears.
“You are not to blame, lass.” Fists clenched, he nodded toward the door, offering a barely perceptible smile. “Off you go.”
Shivering uncontrollably, Louisa did as bid, stepping past Richmond and Milnthorpe, and obliged to push past Sybella Chessington and Lady Henrietta. Sybella followed her over the threshold. “I noticed how you looked at him when you were dancing,” she muttered, grabbing at Louisa’s arm. “Well, this sorry attempt at causing a scandal will fail. Our marriage agreement is signed and sealed, so your pathetic effort to lure him away will never succeed. I willnotallow this to ruin me, but, by God, I’ll make sure it’s the ruination of you.”
Louisa tugged her arm free and opened her mouth to defend herself but thought better of it. For one thing, several other ladies had now spilled out of the retiring room. Like wolves at a kill, they stood in a semi-circle as if awaiting an opportunity to join the feast. Maxwell Harlow was right. Things were ugly enough. Resorting to a further exchange of words would only make things worse.
Instead, Louisa lifted her chin and moved toward the female onlookers, who parted to let her pass as if she had some infectious disease. Shivering, she made her way along the corridor, her brave face merely a fragile façade. Shock and fear churned in her stomach as she navigated through the crowd, the potential repercussions of what had occurred biting into her like teeth. For the sake of a few selfishly stolen minutes, her life would never be the same. But what terrified her more were the possible consequences for those she loved. Scandal could attach itself to a family like a tick. And, despite what Maxwell Harlow had said, Louisa blamed herself.
Entirely.
For deep down in a private place, where she kept her innermost secrets, there sat a sour nugget of truth. That she hadbeen in no hurry to leave Maxwell Harlow’s side. That she had purposely engaged him in conversation for no other reason than she wanted to spend some time with a man she desired.
Regret had the bitterest taste.
So did guilt.
Chapter Five
Alone with histhoughts, Aldous Northcott sat by the hearth, nursing a glass of his favorite Irish whiskey. The mantel clock had just struck midnight, the dying embers of the coal fire were turning to ash, and a gentle drumroll of rain played on the windows.
Grace and Louisa had gone to bed. Or, at least, they’d gone upstairs. Sleep, given what had occurred earlier that evening, would likely prove elusive. Julian, not quite sober, had also excused himself a half-hour since, filling his glass almost to the rim with whiskey and taking it upstairs. A necessary nightcap.
Aldous stared into the amber hues of his own drink and heaved a weary sigh. Two hours earlier, he’d been enjoying a glass of vintage port and a game of cards in the games-room at Lord and Lady Richmond’s Westminster home. The orchestra had been playing in the background; a country dance. Aldous, meanwhile, had been holding the trump card, keeping his expression guarded, giving nothing away as he prepared to declare his first victory of the evening.
Then he’d felt a light tap on his shoulder, and Louisa—his beloved Louisa—had whispered in his ear. “Papa, I must speak with you. Something has happened.”
Given her timing, he might have been justified in waving her away, irritated by the unwanted interruption. But something in her voice snared his attention. He turned to look at her, andwhat he saw stayed any disapproving remark he might have made.
A pale face, tight with anguish, brown eyes feverishly bright, and a tremble in her lower lip. His eldest daughter, usually amiable and happy, was clearly disturbed.
Aldous had set his winning card face down, excused himself, and risen from the table, ignoring the sputters of objection and displeasure. Without comment, he had allowed Louisa to lead him to a quiet spot at the end of the hallway. A place that lay in shadow, away from prying eyes.
And he had listened, without interruption, as she’d told him all that had occurred in Lord Richmond’s private study; what she had overheard, what had been threatened, and what had been promised.
Everything.
“It’s all my fault, Papa,” she’d said at last, bottom lip quivering as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Entirely mine. I am so sorry.”
Aldous had given her his clean handkerchief. “I want you to dry your eyes, Louisa,” he’d said, his calm voice belying the churning pool of emotions within. “Then I want you to collect your things and wait by the front door while I find your Mama and Julian. Speak to no one, do you hear? No one.”
Barely ten minutes later, they had been in a carriage on their way back to their own townhouse. Grace had sat beside Louisa and taken her hand, the physical contact saying more than words ever could. Only Julian had spoken, and with vehemence. “I’m going to kill the bastard,” he muttered, which had prompted a quiet rejoinder from Louisa.
