Heat scorched Rosie’s cheeks.
“What happened wasn’t Rosie’s fault,” Polly said staunchly.
“Perhaps your notion of wrongdoing and mine are different… LadyRevelstoke.”
Before his marriage, Polly’s husband had been an infamous rake,his presence deemed unwelcome by certain sticklers. Mrs. James’ snide emphasis reminded Polly of the fact.
Seeing Polly’s bottom lip quiver, Rosie felt a rush of anger. “Speak to me any way you like, Mrs. James, but you willnotspeak to my sister that way.”
The other’s brows arched. “I’ve said nothing that isn’t true.”
“As I’m sure everyone is quite peaked,” Aunt Helena intervened, “I think it best that we defer this conversation. Until everyone is in a better state of mind.”
“I quite agree,” Lady Charlotte said. “The funeral is no time to delve into family affairs.”
“Are we certain wearediscussing family affairs, Aunt Charlotte?” Miss Eloisa’s delicate inquiry was girdled with steel.
“Hush, girl.” Lady Charlotte clucked at her charge. “Mind your manners.”
“But everyone is saying it,” Miss Eloisa protested. “You know they are, Aunt Charlotte. It is better for her sake that she knows.”
“Eloisa,” Miss Sybil said timidly, “perhaps this isn’t the best time—”
“Did anyone ask for your opinion, Sybil?” her younger sister shot back.
Miss Sybil fell silent.
Rosie swallowed. “What are they saying?”
“How do I put it politely?” Miss Eloisa tapped her chin. “That your marriage is a sham.”
A fist of panic pounded in Rosie’s chest. “It isn’t. I have papers—”
“Papers don’t mean anything.” Mrs. James stood.
Aunt Helena and the dowager rose as well.
“Now, Antonia, I must insist—” the latter said.
“Do you want to be recognized as a part of this family?” Mrs. James demanded.
“Yes,” Rosie whispered. “I do.”
“Do you wish to have our backing through the scandal that you’ve caused? To be lifted onto our shoulders rather than be fed to the wolves of ruination?”
Rosie gave a mute, desperate nod.
“Then you shall have to furnish proof.”
“Of… what?”
The fires of judgement blazed in Mrs. James’ gaze. “Consummation.”
Chapter Fifteen
“We’ve got a problem,” Horace Grier declared.
A common refrain of late, Andrew thought wearily. The afternoon was his time to get work done before the club opened its doors to the usual mayhem. On his desk, he had a stack of ledgers that he’d intended to review, but Grier and Fanny had burst in, facing him across the desk, hostility crackling between them.
