Her mother sat, a hand to her chest. “The how is easy enough. A bit of skill with pen and ink and theability to etch it. Why, I can’t imagine. Why would anyone be so cruel?”
The cartoon was not the best drawn Ariana had seen—not nearly as fine as the one of her in a box—but it was clear enough, with the meaning made absolutely clear in bubbles of speech.
The scene was a crowded space containing sketched- in statues, urns, and boxes. A woman sprawled on a sarcophagus, her skirts revealing her legs, and she wasn’t wearing drawers.Lady ABwas crying a wild invitation to the finely dressed gentleman, whose flap was already down.The Earl of Kwas saying, “Don’t worry, my Amazon. I’ll satisfy your bold desires.”
The whole thing was titled “The Peake of Pleasure.”
Ariana sat on the chest at the foot of her bed, her legs actually failing her. “I don’t believe it. This isn’t possible.”
But it was, and this was far worse than the small item in a cheap newspaper.
This was aprint. That meant it would have been run off in hundreds, even thousands, and sent around to every print shop for display and sale. It was certainly being hawked on the streets for a penny. If it became popular, it would be sent around the country and even abroad, enclosed in letters that gleefully explained the scandalous situation in full.
The letter slipped from her nerveless hand.
Ethel hurried in. “What’s amiss?” She grabbed the paper and looked at it. Her silence was eloquent.
“Perhaps you should marry Kynaston after all,” Lady Langton said.
But Ariana straightened at that. “No! That would only confirm the lie. Oh, heavens. He’ll make thingsworse.” She struggled to her feet. “I have to speak to him.”
“I don’t see how things could be worse, Ariana.”
“He couldkillsomeone. Ethel. Clothes. Now.”
Her mother wrung her hands. “Oh dear, oh dear. But who could he kill for this?”
It was a good question. Had Inching or Churston been behind this? Would either go so far?
Ethel had put the cartoon on the bed and hurried off to gather clothing. Ariana picked it up. Without looking at the picture, she searched the edges for the name of the artist or printer. The printer’s name, at least, was usually at the bottom. There was nothing there. Whoever had done this did not mean to be caught, but Kynaston would already be on the hunt, murder in mind, and this time sanity might not hold him back.
And Norris. What would her brother do? “Does Norris know?”
“I haven’t told him.” Clearly her mother saw the same disaster there.
Kynaston, then. A letter.
She opened her writing desk and the first thing she saw was the list. She’d crossed out his name on the first day and then burned the paper. This was the one she’d written, with all the names crossed out except Sellerden’s, and yesterday he’d crossed himself off. The whole idea of the challenge to her brother had been rash, but it had paved the way for this disaster. She’d offended Inching and misled Churston, leading to that item in the paper, which had somehow led to this.Allher fault, and thus hers to deal with.
She took out a clean sheet of paper, dipped her pen, and began to write.
“What are you doing?” her mother asked.
“Writing to Kynaston.”
“You can’t dictate to a man in a situation like this. He’s going to want blood.”
“And he can have it,” she said, “but I can’t allow him to make matters worse.”
She soon received a response, but it was from Lady Cawle to say Kynaston was investigating the cartoon and attempting to have all the copies destroyed. He would come to her as soon as possible.
“She adds again that I should marry him,” Ariana told her mother and Ethel.
They were in the library by then, supposedly drinking tea, but the cups stood cooling, almost full. They would have sat in the drawing room, but that faced the street, where a crowd had gathered in hope of a glimpse of the scandalous Lady AB.
Norris, raging as expected, had wanted to send for the magistrates and the military to drive them away. He’d even threatened to shoot some of them. Ariana had persuaded him to leave to join forces with Kynaston in the hope there was some sanity there.
“A marriage does paper over a lot of cracks,” her mother said. She was dry-eyed now, but mangling a damp handkerchief.
