His cravat suddenly felt as if it were strangling him, his lungs pulling for air.
“People will see through this.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “This is naught but rumor and idle speculation. Once voters are presented with the issues?—”
“You overestimate people,” Friend said in disgust, “and their interest in issues that impact their daily lives. It is done, Manderly.”
He stilled. “What do you mean?”
“I mean the campaign is over. Time to hoist the white flag and move on.”
The matter-of-fact words plowed into him like a fist, knocking out his breath.
“Now wait just one bloody minute,” Papa spoke up, his posture rigid and eyes flashing with outrage. “The pair of you convinced my son to run for this seat because you know he is the best man for the job—a man of honor who will do his best to represent his constituents. Now this…this scoundrel, Ryerson, has the gall to insult James and his wife, and instead of closing ranks and defending him, you fall out of formation and desert?”
“We are not deserting him, sir,” Dunsmuir said hastily.
“Then what else do you call abandoning my son and fleeing like a pair of lily-livered curs?” Papa barked.
“Marcus,” Mama murmured. “It is not their fault.”
“Mama is right.” James found his voice. “Friend and Dunsmuir are not to blame.”
I am. I failed to do my duty. I failed Evie and my campaign.
“We aren’t abandoning you, Manderly,” Dunsmuir said earnestly. “You will have our friendship, always. However, it is in your best interest to end the campaign. You saw what Ryerson did to Gosford. When Gosford resisted resigning, the rumors Ryerson circulated became increasingly lurid.” He cast a nervous glance at Xenia and Mama. “Things were said about him that I cannot repeat in polite company. When Gosford finally yielded, his reputation was in shreds. He will never recover.”
Gosford’s warning rang in James’s head.
Don’t invite dishonor into your life. It is a disagreeable houseguest who will destroy everything you hold dear and never leave. However bad you think it might be, the reality is a hundred times worse.
Invisible bands tightened around James’s chest.
Is that where I am now headed? Is my reputation—my honor as a gentleman—destroyed? Is it my fate to be scorned in clubs, to be torn to shreds by gossipmongers, to be a blemish on my family’s good name?
Such an existence seemed unthinkable. Unbearable. As James began to grasp the enormity of the situation, Evie and Gigi entered the study. One glance at his wife’s bloodless face told James that his sister had broken the news.
Soon after Evie arrived, the others left to give her and James privacy. She had heard enough, though, and read the article in The Morning Post condemning her and destroying James in the process. Now her husband stood by the window, looking out at the gardens, his hands braced on his hips. Tension radiated from him. He didn’t say anything—didn’t have to. His silence shouted at her louder than he ever would.
“This is my fault,” she began.
“It is not.” He spoke curtly, without turning. “This is Ryerson’s doing.”
“He couldn’t have done it without my participation.”
The truth battered her down. There was nothing left in her—no fight, not even an instinct to flee. She wanted to admit defeat…to apologize for ruining everything that was good. For allowing her cursed existence to drag down her blameless husband.
“As we have worn this subject threadbare, there is no need to linger upon it.” James twisted his head to glance at her, his handsome countenance aged by harsh lines. “God knows the public will be doing enough of that.”
“Do they…do they know what I did to Wilmington?”
Clenching her hands, she almost wished they did. The guilt of holding her secret—of witnessing how it was affecting James—was more painful than facing the consequences.
“It is unlikely. If Ryerson knew the specifics, it would be all over the papers.”
“The scandal is worse than you know. Worse,” she added, “than I even knew.”
She was still coming to terms with Harkness’s revelation. There had been two murders in her family: one accidental…and one intentional. The fact that Wilmington had killed Mama overwhelmed her ability to cope. She felt numb and detached—like a mere observer in the unfolding tragedy of her life.
“It doesn’t matter,” James said wearily. “In a few hours, I will announce my resignation, and all of this will go away.”
