Rosalie’s guts twisted. He had stolen and discarded her heart as casually as men discarded the stubs of their cigars. He had destroyed her, and he had done it forthree pounds.
He was still speaking. “But don’t bother sparing any worry for my soul. It was already blackened beyond recognition.”
“Well do I know it.” She turned on her heel and headed toward the back of the orangery. She could see a chaise longue in the corner. She had to hope that none of Mrs. Parkhurst’s guests would wander in, and that she could somehow compose herself enough to plead a headache and slip away from the party.
She paused before taking a seat but did not turn to look at him. “If you have any decency at all, you will never speak to me again.”
He did not reply. The only thing she heard was the click of the door.
Chapter Fifteen
Present Day
February 1822
“Thatblackguard!”
Rosalie patted Robin’s hand. She had grown so inured to what Lucian had done to her over the years that she had forgotten how shocking it must sound upon first hearing. “Indeed. You see now why I cannot marry him.”
“I certainly do.” Robin’s voice trembled on her behalf. “And I mean to do everything within my power to prevent him from forcing your hand.”
“Thank you,” Rosalie said quietly. She cleared her throat. “So, what did you learn at White’s?”
“I spoke with a gregarious waiter. He did indeed remember Lucian bringing his grandfather there before his departure for the Continent. They would come every Tuesday. The fifth viscount would have some drinks with his friends. He always ordered a beefsteak.”
“Precisely as Lysander said,” Rosalie whispered. She stood and began pacing the room. “I’ll need more than that to convince Papa to break the marriage contract, however. He seems strangely bent on my marrying Lucian. But we’re on the right track. I feel certain of it now!”
“Who else do we need to speak with?” Robin asked.
“The old viscount’s physician,” Rosalie said at once. “To provide testimony regarding the detrimental effect of these actions on his health.”
“Did Lysander mention which physician attended his grandfather?”
Rosalie’s heart sank. “He did not. But I will send him a note.” She crossed to her writing desk in the corner, pulled out a sheet of foolscap, and made a note. “Who else?”
“I wonder if any of the current staff at Deverell House were there during the fifth viscount’s final years?” Robin asked. “If so, their observations would be valuable.”
“An excellent suggestion,” Rosalie said, adding it to her list. “Let’s see… we should also interview any friends of the fifth viscount who are still alive. And I suppose we could consider speaking with Lucian’s friends, although they would probably support him regardless of the facts.”
Robin tapped his chin. “He’s friends with Evander Beauclerk and Lord Trundley. You are friends with their wives, are you not?”
Rosalie brightened. “That’s a good thought. Perhaps their wives can worm some detail out of them that might prove valuable.” She turned to Robin and noticed that a pained expression had come over his face. “What is it?”
“We could also speak with Edmund Reeves,” he said softly.
Rosalie’s heartbeat kicked up a notch at the thought of speaking to Mr. Reeves, the sole witness to her humiliation. She hadn’t been able to avoid him entirely these past two years andjust seeing him across a ballroom always brought back terrible memories. But to his credit, Mr. Reeves had never approached her, nor had he ever breathed a word about her improper behavior with Lucian, at least, as far as she knew.
At the same time, Edmund’s confirmation that Lucian had been callous enough to seduce her in order to win a bet would surely sway her father over to her side…
“Let’s save him for a last resort,” Rosalie said at last. “I agree that he is potentially useful as an eyewitness. But he also has the power to ruin me. Frankly, I’m surprised he’s never gossiped about what he saw that night. It might be better not to stir the pot.”
Robin nodded sympathetically. “We have plenty of people to start with. Let’s follow up on the leads we have and see where it leads us.”
“Let’s.” Rosalie rose from her desk, crossed the room, and enveloped her brother in a hug. “Thank you for helping me.”
Robin squeezed her back. “Anything for you, Rosie. And don’t you worry. That rotten Lucian Deverell will rue the day he crossed my sister!”
Chapter Sixteen
