Taking the large bouquet from Anthony’s outstretched hand, the maid nodded, bobbed a curtsy and scurried off. Once out of sight, Anthony took a deep breath, straightened his jacket and stepped toward the parlor door. After a quick rap, he was admitted entrance by Mr. Chilcott, whom he found nursing a large glass of brandy, while Lady Margaret was pacing frantically back and forth. Jamie sat on a chair in a corner, eyes averted and looking miserable.
When Anthony entered the room, Lady Margaret turned toward him, her whole body sagging with relief as she let out a heavy sigh. “Thank God! You’ve no idea how happy we are to see you, Your Grace. The situation is completely out of control, as you can see. Why, there is the most outrageous rumor circulating about Isabella—people claiming that she’s a ... a harlot!”
Setting Isabella’s gift on a corner table, Anthony eyed Mr. Chilcott, who was presently taking another sip of his drink. Christ, this was bad. Rumors could break a person’s reputation forever, even if there was no basis for truth behind them. The fact that everyone chose to believe it would be enough for them to forever shake their heads at Isabella every time she stepped outside her front door. Something had to be done.
“Do you have any idea why they’re saying this? What has led them to make such a serious accusation?” he asked.
“Our maid, Marjorie, went into town a short while ago to purchase some items for me. She overheard a group of women talking, and from what she could make out, one of them was saying that Isabella had been seen cavorting with a man assumed to be one of your groomsmen or fieldworkers, since the tryst had reportedly taken place on Kingsborough land—in one of your barns to be exact.” Sniffling, Lady Margaret quickly dabbed at her eyes with a bunched-up handkerchief. “Everyone in town knows of her attachment to Mr. Roberts, so this is part of it, but what makes it all so much worse is the claim that Isabella accepted money from this man in exchange for whatever favors she allegedly provided. The insult to her name is beyond compare, not to mention the men we’ve had to turn away in the last hour, all hoping to strike a deal with her. It’s disgusting!”
Anthony could practically feel the steam coming out of his ears as the story poured from Lady Margaret’s mouth. He wanted to break something or hurt someone—preferably with his fists—but he forced himself to remain calm for the sake of Isabella, Jamie and their parents. A monumental task to say the least. “It’s the last Friday of the month today, is it not?” he asked, turning to Mr. Chilcott for confirmation.
Isabella’s father nodded grimly. “Yes,” he said, his features bleak with despair.
“Then there will be a town meeting tonight—at the assembly hall if I’m not mistaken?” He’d attended a few of these meetings before, since he thought it important to know if there were issues he ought to be aware of. Commerce was often discussed, so if he chose to stay away, he would have no idea of whether or not the people of Moxley were thriving.
Lady Margaret nodded. “Yes, yes of course there will—it’s the highlight of the month for most, and with all the baked goods that the wives provide it’s turned into something of a social event.”
“Right,” Anthony muttered, his mind whirling with options. There was only one he could think of that would save Isabella’s reputation, though he would in all likelihood find himself hunted down and killed by Mr. Chilcott. That thought alone was enough to stop him from voicing his idea. Instead he asked, “Would you be kind enough to pass a note to your daughter?”
Isabella was furious. She had a good idea of how the rumor had come about, but there was no consolation to be found in that, for it was hardly enough to make it go away. Rumors had a tendency to spread like wildfire, and once they did, they were usually impossible to put to rest. Her thoughts went to Anthony, of what he had to be thinking, and she grew angrier still. Lord help her, how she loved him. She knew he was presently in the parlor with her parents and Jamie, for she had heard him arrive, but she would have to calm down before joining them, since she presently feared she might take out her frustration on the first person she came into contact with, and that would be unfair.
Hands on her hips, she took a steadying breath. The last time she’d seen Anthony, he’d looked at her with adoration in his eyes. She dared not think of how he might look at her now, not because she thought he might believe the slander—no, he was smarter than that—but because he couldn’t possibly marry her now without courting scandal of the worst possible kind; the Duke of Kingsborough marrying a common whore.
No, it was impossible, and to make matters worse, she could no longer count on Mr. Roberts either, for he had called on her earlier to free her of any obligation she might feel toward him since he was well aware that her affection lay elsewhere. At the time she’d been overjoyed—no more than an hour later, she’d been filled with concern for her family’s future. One thing was for certain in all of this—if vengeance was what Lady Harriett was seeking, she’d struck her target dead center.
Footsteps sounded beyond her door, and Isabella prepared herself to turn whoever it was away, but nobody knocked. Instead, there was a scuffling sound followed by rustling as a white piece of paper folded neatly in two was passed under the door. For a long moment, Isabella didn’t move as she just sat there on her bed, staring down at the note that lay upon the floor. She knew who it was from, of course, and feared opening it, wary of what it might say.
Eventually, her curiosity got the better of her and she knelt down to pick it up, climbing back onto her bed and settling herself against her pillow as she unfolded the missive and read:
My dear Isabella,
No matter how dire this situation may seem to you, I believe I can solve it with ease, if you’ll only trust me.
I shall await your response patiently in the parlor.
Yours always,
Anthony
With a sigh of relief, she clutched the letter to her chest and allowed herself to relax. He was not about to let this come between them, and she felt suddenly chagrined that she’d ever imagined he might—he, who’d proven himself willing to do anything to make her his. A cautious smile teased the corners of her lips as she slipped her feet inside her slippers, strode toward her door and turned the key. If he still believed they had a chance in the face of all this, then so would she.
Anthony was a nervous wreck by the time he entered the assembly room with Isabella on his arm (her hands elegantly dressed in the blue gloves he’d given her) and her parents following closely behind them. They were the last to arrive, and as they did, everyone else present turned to them with gawking eyes. As Isabella and Anthony sank down onto a bench that stood close to the door, Anthony felt his hands grow clammy while his heart beat erratically in his chest. Dear God, he felt on the verge of a seizure.
“Are you all right?” Isabella asked in a low whisper as she leaned a bit closer.
“I’m fine,” he managed, barely getting the words past the knot that was forming in his throat. She obviously didn’t believe him, for she immediately responded with a skeptical frown.
He tried to think of something other than what he was about to do in an attempt to calm his nerves, his mind going to Isabella and the trouble she faced. Even now, as they sat there to one side in the hope of keeping a low profile, Anthony could hear the whispers circulating as everyone’s eyes continuously sought Isabella. It was enough to send the most confident person running for the nearest exit, which, incidentally, happened to be right next to where Isabella was sitting—it was a miracle that she was still here.
“Shall we begin?” Father Green, the local rector, asked as he stepped up in front of the assembled crowd as moderator. “I understand the Flemmings would like to suggest—”
“If you ask me, we ought not continue this meeting until that fallen woman over there has left—there are children present!” The words were spoken by a man Anthony did not recognize and followed by cheers of approval, as well as clapping by others.
“She’s a disgrace to this community!” a woman added, encouraging the crowd to grow louder still. “One can only thank the Lord that Mr. Roberts discovered her true nature before it was too late.”
“How can you say so, Millie?”
Anthony’s head snapped around at the sound of Isabella’s voice, so full of outrage as she jutted her chin forward, daring the Millie woman to do her worst. Devil take it if she wasn’t lovelier than ever as she stood there defending herself before all the townspeople, though there was no mistaking the hurt that shone in her eyes.
