“First off, call Sam and have him stick with you twenty-four-seven for a while. It’s just a precaution because something funky is going on, and I need you to be safe. Contact Elizabeth’s art gallery, La Tempera, in Tribeca, and get in touch with Guy Benson. See if you can meet up with himtoday. If you agree to my idea, tell him ...”
William entered the bedroom, his heart breaking for Lizzy’s disappointment. He’d do what he could, but the Gleasondecision was likely unretractable. As for Caroline and Rick, he was taken aback, but Lizzy was now his primary focus.
As she paced the bedroom, he could feel the anxiety rolling off her. “Babe? Are you okay?”
“I’m not. I don’t know what to do next. Should I call my sister, maybe my father? I should call Guy back and have him contact our lawyer. It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. It’s just a setback. We’ll survive. I survived my mother’s psychological warfare, dammit! Oh, butGuy ...I feel so bad for him, William.”
Coming to her, he stopped her, smoothed her hair, and tucked one side behind her ear. “What can I do to help?”
“There isn’t anything. I feel like such a failure.”
“This is only a wrinkle, certainly not a failure onyourpart, and it will backfire epically on Gleason, not you. In the meantime, trust inyou. I do, and so does Guy. You’re intelligent, talented, and a woman of ingenuity and resourcefulness. Youarea survivor, Lizzy, andwillrebound from this.”
She sighed. “Do you mind if I borrow some of your optimistic confidence? Mine is running low right now,” she softly said.
“You don’t need to ask. I will continue to remind you of how special you are until your confidence comes back.”
“I don’t deserve you, and I hate that once again, someone has ruined our plans for happiness.”
“Nonsense, Paris isn’t going anywhere. We’ll have other trips, but we should return to New York today and address this situation head-on.”
“I think I know who’s behind the slander,” she dolefully said.
“Wickham.”
Her head snapped up. “Why do you say that?”
“You’d better sit down,” he said.
“Oh, no. Is this why he hates you so much?”
“Yes, and it’s why I hate him more.”
They sat on the bed, and he took her hand in his. “This is gonna be hard to hear, but you need to. I’ve known Wickham since prep school.” He swallowed. “Back then, he was a resentful, self-absorbed, vindictive teenager. Later, as a charismatic twenty-five-year-old grifter, he devolved into pure evil, showing his true colors. He got my fifteen-year-old sister high, then attempted rape.”
She gasped. “No!”
“I’m sorry to tell you who you almost married.” He shook his head. “It happened the month after you left. I caught him just in time ... but my father wouldn’t press charges because he was afraid of the scandal and the press, which already hated him. For sure, they would have vilified his teenage daughter.”
“Oh my God! Was Georgiana hurt?”
He paused, his lips forming a tight line. “Not physically, but now, I sometimes wonder. It could be her quest for ballerina stardom or ... an eating disorder born from trauma or grief over my parents—I don’t know. She says she’s fine. My cousin Anne keeps a close watch on her when I can’t.”
“This is ... so terrible. Your poor sister! Did he get away with it?”
“Yeah, he did. Wickham always lands on his feet. After I beat him to a pulp, my father paid him off to disappear forever. The syphilitic dick probably waited until the old man died before coming back to Manhattan.”
“Hm, that was around the time he moved to Queens.”
“He’s one of the reasons I keep the security team. Thank God, I had the foresight to put a detail on Gigi last week.”
“I almost married a monster!” she cried, placing her hand over her mouth.
“Now you know why I punched him at the wedding. It killed me seeing the two of you together.”
William flexed his hand, then stood, walking to the window. Silently, he gazed out, shifting his weight. “There’s more,” he finally said, turning to her, eyes locked with hers.
“You’re scaring me, now, William.”
