“Carenza did what she thought was right.” Allegra came to stand beside her sister. “I am very proud of her.”
“You won’t feel the same when no decent gentleman will marry you,” Dorian said, his body stiff with outrage. “How many times have I told you girls that you must behave with propriety and decorum?”
Carenza turned to her brother. “You make it sound as if we have something to be ashamed of. I’m not ashamed of having parents who loved each other enough to defy the stupid conventions of society.”
“But you don’t have to repeat their behavior!” Dorian said. “You have embarrassed our entire family—again—and made it far harder for Allegra and me to find spouses.”
“I am truly sorry if I have done so, but I felt I had no choice.” Carenza looked at her father, who had taken a seat beside the fire. “Surely you of all men should understand that?”
“I loved your mother. I didn’t risk everything for a family friend, and I didn’t advertise in the newspapers for a bloody rake to pleasure me!”
Carenza sat opposite her father. “Now that, I will apologize for unreservedly. It was a joke that for various reasons got out of hand.”
“The main reason being that Mrs. Sheraton published an indiscreet version of the advertisement before we knew what she was doing,” Allegra chimed in. “Once that was published, there was little we could do.”
“You could’ve threatened to sue the newspaper that printed it,” Dorian countered. “Or asked me or Father to deal with the matter for you.”
“We had no idea it would cause such a stir,” Allegra said.
“You knew about this?” Dorian looked at Allegra.
“Yes.”
“And you did nothing to stop Carenza ruining your future matrimonial prospects?”
Allegra shrugged. “If a man is put off by such a minor scandal, then he isn’t right for me anyway.” She returned her brother’s skeptical look. “I already knew that from society’s treatment of Mama.”
Carenza cast her sister a grateful look. They might argue sometimes, but they were always loyal to each other.
“Allegra did caution me against placing the advertisement, and she was right to do so. But none of us could’ve imagined how it would blow up and involve others.”
“Was Julian Laurent supportive of this ridiculous idea?” her father asked.
“On the contrary. He was horrified,” Carenza said. “He tried everything he could to stop it becoming an even bigger scandal. That’s why I couldn’t allow his reputation to suffer.”
Her father glanced over at Dorian. “I suppose this is another fine example of women’s logic at work.”
“I have to agree, sir.”
The earl slapped his knees and stood up. “I told the butler to start closing up the house. I suggest you both go and pack.”
“We’re leaving?” Allegra asked.
“I don’t see any other way of managing this scandal, do you?”
“But I’ll need to inform people that we are going,” Allegra said desperately. “I have commitments—”
“Perhaps Allegra could stay on for a day or two and then follow us down?” Carenza, who had accepted her fate the moment her father came through the door, asked. “She’s very good at managing the staff.”
“I’d be happy to stay,” Allegra said. “And, as my reputation is truly ruined, I won’t even require a chaperone.”
Julian managed two days before his patience ran out. He’d had plenty to occupy his time dealing with the repercussions of the ball, instructing his barrister in case Walcott started up again, and calming down Aragon as he loudly took exception to anyone who said a bad thing about his brother.
He waited until it was dark and took a circuitous route to the back of Tavistock Square, through the mews, and into the well-kept garden behind the house. There were a few lights on in the house, and no one stopped his progress. He tiptoed past the kitchen and up the backstairs and emerged close to the drawing room at the front of the house. He tapped lightly on the door and went in to find Allegra sitting alone by the fire.
“Lady Allegra.” He bowed. “I wanted to speak to Carenza.”
“You’re too late for that,” Allegra said. “She left two days ago with my father. I only stayed to close up the household and deal with the staff.”
