Vale’s face was grim. “It’s not widely known in London, but Henley’s country estate in Wiltshire borders Godfrey’s, and there was plenty of gossip about it in their neighborhood.”
An apprehensive shudder tripped up Ciaran’s spine. “Gossip aboutwhat?” He was ready to shake the story out of Vale.
“Two years ago, Godfrey married a lady by the name of Alice Trentham. She was much younger than him, very pretty, and possessed of a rather impressive fortune. No title—her father made his money in some trade or other, and he wanted to marry his daughter to an aristocrat. It was a shameful thing, Henley said. The father forced the girl to marry Godfrey in order to turn her into a countess.”
“Godfrey bought her with his title,” Ciaran spat.
“He bought her, yes, and a year later she was dead.”
Ciaran and Markham stared at Vale, both of them struck dumb with shock.
“She took too much laudanum one night, and didn’t wake up the next morning. There were rumors afterward. A couple of housemaids swore they saw Godfrey dose the girl that night, but nothing was ever proved, and the matter was dropped.”
“So, the marriage ended with her fortune in Godfrey’s pocket,” Markham hissed. “A wealthy man with no wife to burden him.”
Vale gave a tight nod. “Just so. Now here he is again, chasing after Lady Lucinda, another young, beautiful heiress.”
Chasing her, and if Jarvis had anything to say about it, catching her. Ciaran thought of Lucy huddled in the corner of the carriage tonight, so small and vulnerable, and his stomach twisted. “I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
Markham and Vale stiffened. “What mistake? Where is Lady Lucinda, Ramsey?”
“On her way back to Jarvis’s in Portman Square.” Ciaran was already slamming his fist against the carriage roof. “With only Mrs. and Miss Jarvis to protect her.”
Vale paled at the mention of Eloisa Jarvis. “Nibbs!”
He began struggling with the window, but Markham already had it open and was shouting to the coachman. “Portman Square, Nibbs, and hurry, man!”
Chapter Nineteen
“Men are vile, loathsome creatures.”
Lucy would have sworn nothing in the world could jolt her from her thoughts. She’d been manhandled by Lord Godfrey tonight. All of London now thought her betrothed to him—a man three times her age whom she despised—and Lord Godfrey likely thought so, as well. Meanwhile the man shewasmadly in love with had kissed her with a passion that took her breath away, and then proposed marriage to her.
And she’d refused him.
In short, she had quite a few of her own problems to worry about.
But as soon as Lady Felicia made her announcement, both Lucy and Eloisa jerked their heads toward her, their mouths dropping open in shock. The three of them were in the Jarvises’ hired carriage, waiting at the curb outside the Weatherbys’ townhouse for Aunt Jarvis, who’d gone in search of her husband in the card room to inform him they were leaving the ball.
“My goodness, Felicia. What’s gotten into you?” Lucy asked, surprised to hear such bitter words from sweet-tempered Lady Felicia.
“Do you mean to tell me, Lucy, you don’t think men are vile, loathsome creatures?” Lady Felicia turned on Lucy, her blue eyes flashing.
“Well, er…some of them certainly can be.” Lucy didn’t necessarily disagree with her friend. Some menwerevile, loathsome creatures. One needn’t look any further than Lord Godfrey for proof of that. “Are you condemning a specific gentleman in particular?”
Silly question, and one to which Lucy already knew the answer. It was rare enough for Lady Felicia to fall into a temper. When she did, Lord Markham was generally the reason for it.
“I’m in no humor to defendanyman,” Lady Felicia declared. “The entire sex is dreadful, but Lord Markham is the worst of the lot.”
Lucy bit her lip to hide a smile. It was her considered opinion when a lady and a gentleman who were dear friends started flinging insults at each other, love wasn’t far behind.
“Dear me.” Eloisa’s eyes were wide. “What’s he done?”
Eloisa gave Lady Felicia’s arm a soothing pat, but it didn’t do a thing to calm Felicia’s temper. Her brow lowered, and her frown turned into a dark scowl. “Do you know what he said to me tonight?”
Lucy opened her mouth to reply, but Lady Felicia cut her off before she got a word out. “He demanded to know my feelings regarding Lord Nash. Then he had the gall to suggest—subtly, mind you, because Edmund is nothing if not restrained—I was trifling with his lordship when my affections truly lay elsewhere!”
The corners of Lucy’s lips threatened to curve. “Why, how strange. It’s not at all like Lord Markham to say something so ungentlemanly. What could have been the reason for it?”
