Milton opened his mouth but was ignored.
“I shall escort you home.” Madam nicked her head at the maid, who set down a pitcher and washbowl. Milton’s mother held out her hand to Elizabeth, requiring her son to release her.
“Mum,” he growled, “a word.”
“Oh you’d like more than a word, boy, wouldn’t you?” Her lips thinned. “You’d like a great many things, always have. But right now, you canget out.”
Milton glared at his mother but obeyed.
“And Jasp.” She stopped him at the door. “Clean up the mess you left, eh?”
She rang the room’s bell, then sat Elizabeth down at a dressing table. Madam Audrey calmly brushed out Elizabeth’s snarled hair in controlled, slow strokes while the maid washed Elizabeth’s face and hands, inspecting her for scrapes and bruises.
“Tell me what happened, dear.”
“I don’t—” Eizabeth shook her head, trying desperately to refocus. “I asked a man to point me to the foyer, only he dragged me inside a room instead.”
Tea arrived with biscuits, halting Elizabeth’s speech. Madam urged her to eat as the maid knelt to stitch a rip at Elizabeth’s hem.
Numb to her core, Elizabeth sipped tea and nibbled biscuit, tasting neither. How was she in this room, this house, in such disordered, dismal state? The cracked lenses in her spectacles fractured her face in the dressing mirror, distorting her world even more.
Another pair, ruined.
“Madam,” she forced herself to speak, “why do you treat me now with kindness when before you”—she struggled to describe it—“blatantly abused me?”
The lady sighed. “Because Jasp asked me to, dear.” She eyed Elizabeth through the mirror. “Surely you’ve noticed him putting you through your paces, testing you at every turn.”
Truth dawned on Elizabeth.
“He’s preparing you for what’s to come, Miss Winthrop.”
“But I?—”
Madam stilled Elizabeth’s scalp with the hairbrush. “He is preparing you for how harshly society will treat you as his wife.” Her voice grew bitter. “It is how he is treated himself—how theTontreats any they deem beneath contempt.”
“But he was made a baron, Madam, with income and holdings which?—”
“Exceed those of most nobles, yes. He’s done very well for himself.” Her voice held pride. “My son is indeed a wealthy man. But he had to purchase his title, Miss Winthrop, whereas your father was born to his. And therein lies all the difference. In the eyes of fine society, Jasper remains a bastard and a laughing stock. He could not even purchase a British Baronetcy but had to look to Scotland instead.”
“Is that why he?—?”
“He longs for what he cannot have, something no mother can give him. And he is too old and stubborn to listen to me anymore, that much I know.” She coiled Lizzie’s hair into a low knot. “You,however, impress, my dear. The rebuke you delivered us at luncheon was as cutting as our disrespect. I see why Jasper chose you for his wife.”
“But—” Elizabeth’s attempt to turn her head was sharply corrected.
“That does not mean he is deserving of you.” Madam’s wry dimples resembled her son’s. “Which is why you are right to make him stew. He should be punished for pushing you so hard, and I can only apologize deeply, Miss Winthrop, for the assault you just suffered in this house. Miss Li and I tolerate no violence toward our girls. There will be consequences.”
“So the man still?—?”
“Lives, yes. Jasper doesn’t kill if he doesn’t have to. Simply beat him to a pulp. When you’ve lived the places we have, dearie, well, I made sure my boy learned how to fight.”
Elizabeth was grateful for it.
“That man should not have been in this house at this hour,” Madam continued. “We have rules and protections in place.” Her tone betrayed real anger.
Elizabeth lapsed into silence as Madam Audrey finished tending to her hair. A moment later the maid finished at her hem. A second biscuit eased Elizabeth’s stomach, yet before she lost courage she spoke the words that had sat her tongue all day.
“I cannot marry your son, Madam Audrey. I am sorry, but I cannot.”
