“In fact,” Verity continued softly, “one hears he felt obliged to distance himself entirely. A gentleman must protect his name, after all. And poor Mr. Harcourt — imagine the embarrassment. To host the very people who know the truth and must pretend otherwise.”
Caroline’s fingers tightened around her reticule.
One of the matrons whispered, “Then Mr. Grant?—?”
“Did what any honorable man must. Though he was reluctant to do so, given the obvious moral depravity displayed by Miss Har—Mrs. Grant,” Verity corrected, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial murmur that nevertheless carried. “He stepped forward to salvage what could be of both her reputationand his. It was the only course open to him. And her poor brother must now attempt to stem the tide of gossip and save face for all of them!”
A ripple of fascinated horror passed through the group.
“And Lord Marklynne attends tonight?” another asked.
Verity’s lips curved. “Out of charity, no doubt. To spare the Mr. Harcourt further humiliation. One must admire such restraint.”
The matrons nodded gravely, already converting rumor into certainty.
Caroline felt the blood drain from her face. The cruelty lay not merely in the lie but in the manner of its delivery — the feigned reluctance, the careful layering of insinuation, the appearance of sympathy that sharpened the blade. By morning, the tale would travel from drawing room to breakfast table to carriage ride, gaining further exaggerated detail with every repetition.
And Eleanor, who had done nothing but choose love, would bear the stain.
Caroline did not allow herself to think. If she hesitated, she might lose her nerve. If she considered propriety, she would never act. So she simply gathered her skirts and slipped silently, stealthily from the ballroom on a mission to spare those she cared for most the same terrible fate she currently suffered.
Julien had retreatedto his study in search of momentary quiet and found none. The muffled music from the ballroom pulsed faintly through the walls, an insistent reminder of obligations he could not entirely escape. He had intended only a brief respite before returning to his duties as host, yet he remained at hisdesk, staring at nothing, aware only of a restless tension he could neither name nor dismiss.
He told himself it was fatigue. The past weeks had demanded more of him than he cared to admit — the wedding, the ball, the unrelenting social demands. That was all. Even a man who enjoyed society sometimes needed a reprieve.
The knock at his door was swift and urgent.
Before he could respond, the door opened and Caroline Ashworth stepped inside. The very reason for his discomposed state now stood just inside the doorway of his private study. Alone with him, as the ball raged on.
He rose at once.
The impropriety of it was startling given that, to his knowledge, Miss Caroline Ashworth had yet to put a foot wrong in society despite now being at the center of a scandal. Yet she stood there, a young lady alone in his private study, unchaperoned, at the height of a crowded ball — if discovered, the consequences would be ruinous for her. The realization sent a sharp current of alarm through him that was swiftly eclipsed by something more visceral: the sight of her, pale beneath her mask, breathless and shaken.
“Miss Ashworth,” he said, moving toward her. “Is something amiss?”
She closed the door behind her and pressed her gloved hands together as though to steady them.
“This is terribly improper, I know, and I would not have come,” she said, her voice low but urgent, “had it not been of the utmost importance.”
His concern sharpened. “You are safe here. Tell me.”
She drew a breath and forced the words out with careful control. “Miss Langford is spreading the most vile gossip imaginable. She is telling anyone who will listen that Eleanor was compromised… that Lord Marklynne withdrew hisattentions after discovering it… that Adrian married her only to spare the family disgrace likely on threat of exposure of their misdeeds.”
For a moment Julien did not speak.
A slow, cold fury settled into his chest. He had endured gossip all his life; society thrived upon it. But to slander his sister — and on this night of all nights when they were hosting a ball to celebrate her marriage to his best friend — was beyond tolerance.
“She speaks as though she does so reluctantly,” Caroline continued. “As though she wishes to protect reputations even while destroying them. She is a viper in our midst.”
Julien’s jaw tightened. “And you heard this yourself?”
“I did. I have been something of a wallflower by choice tonight, and she did not know I lurked unseen nearby as she repeated her Banbury tale. ”
He turned away briefly, forcing his temper into submission. Rage would solve nothing. This was a moment that called for controlled and decisive action rather than an explosion of fury.
When he faced her again, he saw the strain she was trying so very hard to conceal — the exhaustion in her eyes, the fragility beneath her composure. She had already endured more public humiliation than anyone deserved, and yet she had risked further scandal to protect Eleanor.
“You should not have come here alone,” he said quietly.
