“I wish you success,” Mrs. Sheraton said. “I truly believe you are made for each other. You’re both so annoyingly perfect.”
“Thank you.” Julian went to pour more wine and realized the bottle was empty. “Would you care to join me in my study for a glass of brandy?”
“Thank you, but I think I should be getting home. I promised to tell Maude all the latest scandal.”
“Which is?”
“That Carenza is ruined, and that you are a noble hero, a man of good deeds who has been unfairly smeared by the jealous Mr. Walcott.” She stood up, her cheeks rather flushed. “Carenza did that for you, Mr. Laurent. And for me. She didn’t even mention my name. The least you can do is pay her back in kind.”
My dear Carenza,
I can only apologize again and ask for forgiveness. I hope you are settled in Norfolk with your family. Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you.
Your friend,
Julian Laurent.
Carenza read the letter twice and then left it on the dressing table. What did he expect her to do? Write back and reassure him that she was as happy as a woman could be and that there was nothing for him to worry about? That would be a lie, and Julian wasn’t a fool. He must know she’d returned home in disgrace. It was a good thing that almost no one visited the Musgroves anyway, because they would certainly stay away now.
The whole country now knew her name, and her family were receiving mail from everywhere in reply to the advertisement. Carenza’s father ordered that everything they received should be burned. It was only by chance that Julian’s letter had gotten through to her in the first place.
She’d also had a note from Aragon telling her he’d successfully bought up a considerable portion of Walcott’s debts and was poised to deliver the bad news to the gentleman himself. Aragon wrote that Olivia had decided to accompany him when he told Walcott and that he had faith that they’d never hear from the scoundrel again. He also added a postscript that his mother was leaving London and making plans to move into the dower house at his country estate.
Carenza was momentarily diverted from her misery to wonder whether Lady Landon was departing voluntarily or if Aragon had finally fully claimed his earldom and sent her packing. She hoped it was the latter. Aragon had proved to be a staunch ally to his brother after all.
She turned as her mother, Rosaria, came into her bedroom with her usual flowing grace. She looked more like Carenza’s sister than the mother of three grown children, her black hair barely streaked with silver, and her figure as voluptuous as ever.
“There is no need to skulk in here on such a beautiful day,cara mia. You are home now and have nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I’m not ashamed.” Carenza turned to her mother. “I’m just worn out worrying about all the people I’ve hurt because of my actions.”
Her mother took her arm, the lush notes of her perfume swirling around them. “You can worry just as well outside, dearest. Your father and brother are off touring the farms, collecting rent, so I am the only person you need to talk to.”
“When is Allegra due home?”
“I’m not sure. I think your father plans to send the carriage back to collect her, and he wanted to give the horses time to rest between the trips.” Her mother moved over to the dressing table and picked up Julian’s note.
“Mother, it’s rude to read other people’s correspondence.” Carenza tried to grab the letter but her mother held her off until she’d finished reading.
“This is hardly the letter of a lover,” she said disapprovingly. “Your father wrote me poetry!”
“Now that I do find hard to believe.”
“He has the soul of a romantic,” her mother continued. “It was my singing that entranced him and made him fall in love with me.”
They all knew the story of how the earl had attended a private operatic performance and how he’d fallen instantly and passionately in love with the singer and defied everyone to make Rosaria his wife. He’d never faltered in his devotion to her. He still sought her out in a room, and when she sang for him, he never took his eyes off her. It was exceedingly romantic.
“Do you love him?”
“Yes,” Carenza said. Her mother had extracted the full story of Carenza’s affair with Julian as soon as she’d arrived home.
“Then will you reply to him in encouraging terms?”
“I’m not sure.” Carenza looked at her mother. “Perhaps he is better off without me.”
Rosaria snorted. “I doubt that. You are a prize.”
“I’m a doubly disgraced woman who advertised for a lover in the newspapers,” Carenza said. “I won’t be accepted back into society, and Julian is an integral part of that world.”
