Her voice cracked on the last word. Her mother’s arms wrapped around her, the warmth of the embrace loosening Javenia’s resolve to stay strong.
Dropping her head on her mother’s shoulder, she let the wracking sobs tear from her body. She’d come so far, loved so much, only to fail.
Algenon loved her. Every inch of her knew it, had known it for years, even if she’d tried to push it away. It was in every look and every touch. He had been her friend and her champion at every turn… until today.
Lord Roberts might as well have announced his son’s marriage to Miss Weston for all of England to hear after the way he’d dismissed her in front of so many people. Every tongue in London would wag by the end of the night, and all Algenon haddone was stand there. He’d not corrected his father or objected to his interference.
He’d broken a promise, the one she’d always clung to, and she didn’t know if they could ever recover.
Chapter 19
Algenon paced outside his father’s study. Lord Rupert had come to call this morning, confirming his fear that the earl meant to court Phillipa. This time, his father’s meddling had gone too far. He might push him around, but he would not endanger Phillipa’s life for his own vanity.
Taking a deep breath, he gathered everything he wanted to say and knocked.
“Come in,” came his father’s booming voice.
Algenon’s hand stilled on the door handle. The irritation present in his father’s reply made him wonder if he ought to wait. If Father was already on edge he might fight him merely out of spite.
Javenia’s pained face flashed in his memory, and he set his shoulders. He may not have been able to help her, but he’d not let Phillipa suffer as well.
His father’s face darkened when he entered. “What is it, Roberts? Can’t you see I am busy?”
Algenon stopped in front the desk where his father sat hunched over a letter, quill in hand. “We need to talk.”
“I would love to,” he said, voiced laced with sarcasm, “but I have correspondence of an urgent nature to attend to.”
“As urgent as your daughter’s life?”
That stopped him. He placed the quill back on its holder. “What has happened?”
“Lord Rupert is what has happened.”
Lord Roberts scoffed. “That.” He reached for the quill again, but his hand quivered.
“You know what sort of man he is, Father. Why on earth would you allow him to court Phillipa? I know how much you love each of your girls, even if you are loath to admit it. What if he sends her to an early grave like his other two wives? Do you really wish to bury a daughter?”
His father’s brow pinched, accentuating every wrinkle on his aging face. The trembling in his hand increased as he dipped the quill into the inkpot several times, his gaze unfocused. Then he shook his head and sighed.
“Because I have no choice.”
“No choice? You are her father. You have the ultimate choice.” Algenon planted his hands on the desk.
His father dropped the quill onto the paper, the ink splattering on its neat surface. “Blast it, Roberts. You wouldn’t understand.” Using both hands, he rubbed his temples.
“I think I understand more than you allow,Lord Roberts,”Algenon spat out. “Tell me, did you lose a bet? Maybe wager too much at the card tables?” He straightened, his heart sinking. “Please don’t say you used Phillipa’s hand as collateral.”
His father glared at him. “I may have wagered too much at the tables, but I would never use my own daughter as a bargaining chip.”
Algenon nearly sighed in relief but stopped himself. “How much did you lose?”
“What?” His father squinted at him.
“The money, how much did you lose at the tables?”
One hand to his forehead, Lord Roberts mumbled. “Ten thousand pounds.”
Algenon cursed under his breath. He’d had such faith in his father’s restraint, but apparently Eddie had been right to question. Ten thousand pounds was the sum of his sisters’ dowries. Had he wagered Phillipa’s dowry?
