Both men dropped their hands instantly, and Viola rubbed her shoulders.
“Wife?” Peregrine echoed, pointing from her to Sebastian and back again. “You are married…to Fane?”
All heads turned towards her.
Viola swallowed. “Well…I…uh…truth be told…as a matter of fact…” She met Sebastian’s unwavering gaze. Was she supposed to admit it? Deny it? She cleared her throat and decided that in this case, honesty was the best course of action. “It may indeed be possible that we’re, uh, actually, in fact…married.” She cleared her throat. “Some time ago.” Best not to mention the accidental part.
The audience had pressed into the room, whispering and murmuring.
Wonderful. They’d provided the scandal sheets with abundant fodder for tomorrow’s issue.
Viola clasped her hands together, twisting them tightly. It was a disaster.
Cousin Georgiana elbowed her way through the crowd. “But Viola! This is impossible. Surely there must be some mistake!”
“There is no mistake.” Sebastian cut smoothly across her. “Lady Viola and I have been married for nine years. I do not discuss my private life lightly, nor do I appreciate having it aired in public.” His gaze swept the room before settling on Viola for the briefest moment. Something flickered there. A question, perhaps. Or a warning.
Peregrine’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. No sound emerged.
Mr Mainwaring had gone quite pale. “You were married to him,” he said slowly, “this entire time?”
Sebastian took her hand and gently drew her away from him. “There is nothing more to see here, ladies and gentlemen. Do move on and help yourself to some refreshments.” He did not let go of her hand.
“But Viola,” Georgiana said helplessly. “When on earth did that happen?”
“It is a long, long story,” Viola said tiredly. “I shall tell you sometime later. Maybe.”
“Fane, she is Fane’s wife. Incredible,” someone muttered.
“A secret wife?” muttered another.
“He never made a secret of it. Heard him mention her in the Commons.”
“Very true, very true,” affirmed another.
Mr Mainwaring looked at her, thunderstruck. “I had no idea. It never even occurred to me. I should have known?—”
Poor Mr Mainwaring. Peregrine recovered more quickly. He sauntered up to Sebastian and nudged Viola. “Introduce me.”
Viola was exhausted. “Lockwood. Fane. Fane, Lockwood. Peregrine is an old friend of mine from Scotland.” Peregrine, who knew rather more of her secrets than any man ought. He had known that she was married; that was not the issue. But that it was Fane…
“We are actually related. Remotely so, but related. I must say, sir, I am quite an admirer of you. Your latest bill was masterful.” To Viola, in an aside, he murmured, “Well played, my dear. When you do finally produce a husband, you couldn’t have produced one that is more powerful, nor more influential.” To Sebastian he said, “It will be a pleasure to call on you, Mr Fane.”
Sebastian did not look pleased. He ignored Peregrine, and his grip on Viola’s hand tightened. “We’re done here. Let’s go home.” He steered her through the muttering crowd, made a comment to one or the other, nodded and brushed off people, then took Viola outside and ushered her into the carriage.
“Oh, oh, oh,” Viola groaned, placing her head in both hands as she propped them onto her knees. “Have you any idea of what you have just done?”
“What, my dear, have I done except speak the truth?”
She opened her mouth to tell him that this particular truth might have better been left unspoken, given that she was also Selina Sable and that her identity ought not be entwined with his, but then she remembered that that was supposed to be a secret too, so she snapped her mouth shut.
“I don’t understand. You were the one who insisted on keeping our marriage a secret. Because of your sacred reputation and everything. And now you declare it to the entire world, not only at the musicale but also in Parliament?”
His head turned sharply toward her. “How did you know that?”
“I heard it,” she said darkly. “It appears I don’t know the difference between a tariff and a teapot. Even if that is true,” she went on, wringing her hands, “how can you just blurt that out to all and sundry?”
“Did you indeed?” he murmured. “I would say it’s high time we declared things openly. I never insisted that our marriage remain a secret. I never claimed to be unmarried. While people were certainly curious, they always respected the notion that my wife was rusticating somewhere in the country. I never disabused them of that belief. But now that you are here, such a deception no longer is warranted, and it is best for all involved that we just announce things as they are. You are my wife, and I will not tolerate other men sniffing about you.” He scowled. “How did you come to know a man like Lockwood in the first place?”
