Surely he didn’t expect Mr Irving to marry her. The man might have overlooked her lack of a dowry, but not the possibility she was no longer chaste.
Mr Hawke didn’t seem to care either way. He tugged his cuffs and brushed imaginary dust from his coat sleeves. “I shall await a dawn summons. You’ll find me at Mivart’s Hotel.”
With that, he strode away, the crowd parting in his wake.
All eyes in the house turned to her, crows keen to feast on the bones of her anonymity. Every distasteful glare was another vicious peck. Whispers rose behind gloved hands and raised fans. They noticed everything.
The small stain on her hem where it had caught the step.
That her breasts were a touch too full for her slight frame.
Yet her first thought was for Mr Hawke. How did one ignore their spite? How did one walk through ruin with confidence carved into their spine?
“I hope you’re pleased with yourself,” her aunt complained. “Judging by the cool reception, I’ll be your companion in Bengal.” She turned to the man who wielded patriarchal dominance like a sabre. “I don’t know what you did to rouse his ire, but we’ll all pay the price.”
“What Hawke thinks I did, and what transpired, are different things entirely. I’m not the only man to pay court to his mother, nor the only villain here.” Her father muttered a curse, a scourge on wicked men. “It was years ago. Had I known the blackguard bore a grudge, I’d have dealt with it then.”
Aunt Augusta scanned the onlookers and swallowed. “We should leave before they descend like a pack of jackals.” She turned to her companion, Loretta, but the woman had already made herself scarce.
Her father gave a wry snort. “Let them look. I’m not leaving until I’m good and ready.”
“What about the dawn appointment?” Daphne asked. “Who will you name as your second?”
She didn’t want him to meet Mr Hawke on the common, but the event seemed inevitable now. No doubt the scoundrel shot with expert precision. And who in their right mind would stop him?
Her father straightened to his full height. “I have no intention of feeding Hawke’s need for vengeance. It’s not as if your honour hangs in the balance. Irving will have you regardless.”
The thought froze her blood.
Had she humiliated herself for nothing?
She wasn’t thinking of the dance, but of the kiss. A stolenmoment with a man she should have feared. Yet it had confirmed one thing with painful clarity: she could not marry Mr Irving.
The truth slotted into place with sickening ease.
“So that’s it, then. This is all about money,” she bit back.
What was she but a mere commodity?
At least with Mr Hawke, she’d seized a sliver of power. She’d twisted the scandal to her advantage. There was no advantage in marrying a man who made her skin crawl.
Her father stared at her from beneath his heavy brow. “If I don’t pay the Moseley brothers by month’s end, they’ll have my head on a spike. Then you’ll wish you lived in Bengal.”
She’d rather take her chances with the crooks from Drury Lane. How her father had landed in such a predicament, heaven only knew.
“I’ll call on Irving tonight and make sure he’ll take you, though there will be some negotiation on the price.”
He spoke as if she were a brood mare, and he meant to pair her with a flea-bitten nag.
“Perhaps I could find work.” It was a last-ditch attempt to stop this madness. Though who would employ her now?
“Even if I’d permit a daughter of mine to sully her hands, there’s only one profession open to you.” His mouth twisted into a sardonic grin. “If your mother were alive, she’d cast you out in shame.”
The words struck like a blade to her heart. Her mother’s soft smile rose in her mind, along with her final warning.
Trust no man, for they all betray you in the end.
Tears welled, but she fought them back.
