“Doesn’t it?” Edward turned to them. “Every step of this conspiracy depended on my willingness to involve Miss Playford in Sofia’s schemes. Without my participation, Venetia would never have been positioned to take blame for tonight’s theft. I’m as responsible for her destruction as if I’d placed that cursed tiara on her head myself.”
“You’re being too harsh,” Thornton replied. “Miss Playford is clearly innocent and she will be vindicated. If Signorina Morosini orchestrated this, then you were as much her victim as Miss Playford. Self-recrimination will not undo what’s been done.”
Edward laughed, a short, rough sound. “Won’t it? Then what will, Lord Thornton? What action can possibly restore Miss Playford’s reputation, clear her name, prove her innocence when evidence has been so carefully arranged to suggest guilt?”
He began pacing, unable to contain the agitation coiling in his limbs. “And there’s more. Something that makes this situation even more impossible.”
Might as well confess everything, he thought. It can’t get much worse.
“More?” Lady Townsend asked, anxiety sharpening her tone.
“Count Morosini believes I’m pursuing Sofia,” Edward said flatly. “After the attack by the footpads—you remember, Lady Townsend, the incident I mentioned?—a well-meaning merchant named Benedetti saw me with a young, well-bred, golden-haired woman in elegant dress. He naturally assumed it was Sofia, given the clothing. He told Count Morosini.”
Oh, what a fool I’ve been. A lovesick, credulous fool.
“The count summoned me to his library,” Edward continued, his voice tight. “He gave me the most exquisitely civil warning I’ve ever received. All couched in discussions ofIvanhoeand how even in fiction, love requires compatible social positions. The message was clear: step away from my granddaughter or lose your position.”
Thornton’s expression sharpened. “But you weren’t with Sofia. You were with—”
“With Venetia,” Edward finished. “Wearing Sofia’s dress. As part of Sofia’s scheme. But I can’t tell Count Morosini that without revealing his granddaughter’s deception and making everything infinitely worse.”
Also, he’d probably have me thrown into whatever dungeons Venice still maintains.
“So you see,” Edward said, desperation rising, “I can’t appeal to Count Morosini for help. He already thinks I’m a fortune hunter pursuing his granddaughter. If I now suggest Sofia framed Venetia—a wealthy English heiress—to protect herself—what will he think?”
“That you’re deflecting blame,” Lady Townsend said slowly, understanding dawning.
“Exactly.” Edward stopped pacing, his hands clenched. “To him, it would look as though I seduced both young women, conspired with one to rob the other, and am now trying to save my own skin by implicating his beloved granddaughter.”
Who is actually guilty. But try explaining that to her grandfather.
“Moreover,” Edward went on, “I’m the one who delivered thetiara to Venetia. I’m the one who encouraged her to help Sofia. I’m the one found alone with her on that balcony. Every piece of circumstantial evidence points to me as either conspirator or mastermind.”
“Which is precisely what Sofia intended,” Thornton said grimly.
“Yes, but knowing that doesn’t help Venetia!” Edward’s voice cracked. The more he teased at the difficulties, the tighter the knot became. “She is sitting in some room now, being interrogated, her reputation in tatters, while I stand here explaining why I can’t do anything to help her.”
He faced them again. “I am the root of all this. Sofia used my feelings for Venetia to manipulate me. Count Morosini suspects me of pursuing his granddaughter. Captain Rizzi caught me compromising Venetia on a balcony. Every thread of this conspiracy leads back to me.”
“I hope you’re not about to propose what I—?” Lady Townsend began warily.
“I propose that I confess,” Edward said, cutting across her. “To everything. I’ll tell Captain Rizzi I manipulated Miss Playford into wearing the tiara, that I used her innocence and trust as cover for my own criminal activities. The evidence supports it.”
“Absolutely not,” Thornton said at once.
“Why not?” Edward demanded. “It would free Venetia. It would explain everything without implicating Sofia—which means Count Morosini might show mercy. He values my translations. He might petition for clemency if he believes I acted alone.”
“You’re proposing to confess to a crime you didn’t commit,” Lady Townsend said slowly, “to save a woman you love, while relying on the mercy of a man who has already warned you away from his granddaughter?”
“When you put it like that, it sounds terrible,” Edward admitted.
It IS terrible. But what choice do I have?
“It sounds like madness because it is madness,”Thornton said bluntly. “Rothbury, you’re not thinking clearly. Desperation has overwhelmed your judgment.”
“Perhaps,” Edward conceded. “But what’s the alternative? Wait while Venetia suffers? Try to investigate Sofia while her grandfather shields her? Hope that somehow evidence emerges that clears Venetia without implicating me or Sofia?”
“Yes,” Thornton said firmly. “Precisely that.”
