Like this was some odd farce being performed on Drury Lane, I trudged behind my father as we left the ballroom at Anya House.
As mad as I was at Prahmn, I could not help but feel used by Torrance. He’d erected the revenge Livingston had said that he wanted.
Unwittingly, I’d helped.
The three of us stepped outside.
Linkboys whirled torches.
Livingston stepped to the side. “I’ll have your carriage brought round.”
My friend still looked stunned, very pink-faced. He even wobbled. I wasn’t sure how much champagne he’d drunk; it was more than enough.
I wondered if he knew this evening’s events would lead to my father’s disgrace.
“Your mother,” Prahmn said, “she told me I was a fool to come tonight. She said there would be nothing to convince you to change course.”
“She’s right. The Marchioness of Prahmn would have prevented you from losing your temper in public. She’d keep your prejudice and foul dealings private. You don’t deserve her.”
He took an embroidered handkerchief from his pocket and swiped at his face. “This will be in the papers. My humiliation will hit all the gossip sheets. You must savor that.”
“Gossip is nothing to savor. The ton’s tittle-tattle about whose alleged sins are exposed is of no interest to me.”
Prahmn didn’t look at me. “You’re going to marry that one. You can expect no help from me. No recommendations—”
“Father, I hardly think anyone will want to be connected to your name anytime soon. No one likes to be exposed. And to see you be fooled by a prostitute . . . No, keep your sympathies.”
He fisted his hand. “I’m still right. You . . . She’s beneath you.”
“You are wrong, and at least she can say her hardworking father built a company, while mine was exposed as a lowlife by a prostitute.”
His carriage came around. I held the door as he slumped inside.
“Think long and hard, Prahmn. My mother deserves so much better. I hope she stays in the country for a long time. Go sit in her empty parlor, the one she consoles you in when your escapades end. Be alone with your prejudice and stupidity until even you are sick of yourself.”
I slammed the door and sent his driver away.
Livingston was in the shadows of the housed portico. “You said all those words. Good ones. Good job. You all right, Sebastian?”
“Oddly, I feel numb. Prahmn has never been warm, but it’s disturbing to see him brought low.”
“I guess it was good for your mother to be gone.”
I squinted at my friend, then realized this was the mothers’ network in action. “I suppose the dowager countess had an earful this afternoon.”
“Yes. It seems Prahmn’s new friend encouraged him to get rid of the marchioness and send her to the country. The prostitute wanted to enjoy the season from the Grosvenor house.”
That bit of foolishness saved my mother from sacrificing her peace and dignity to help my father recover.
The man responsible for this turn of events was in the hall showing Lydia Wilcox the new painting.
“Your Grace,” I said, “might we have a word?”
His smile widened. He suspected that I’d figured things out. Bending down to the little girl, he snapped his fingers and the maid assigned to her appeared. “Take my princess to her room for bed, but stop by the map room when she’s ready. The surprise is there.”
Lydia looked as if she would fuss about being sent upstairs, but the mention of a surprise made her clasp the maid’s hand and skip along to the stairs. “Love my duke.”
“Love my dorogaya.” The duke looked touched.
