eleven
THE ONLY GOOD thing about the day for Royston was the nice weather. The lemonade tasted delicious, too.
He shouldn’t have come to the event. From the moment he’d arrived, Havisham had never left his side, asking Royston if he’d changed his mind, Lady Redvers had introduced him to her daughter no less than three times, and Havisham’s footmen, who had once been Royston’s mates, now treated him like a stranger, which he understood.
Maybe he was a completely different person now that he had money and a title. He still had to decide if becoming a baron and making a lot of money had been a blessing or a curse. For now, it seemed that everyone wanted something from him, but no one wanted to help his cause.
“So this is your last word,” Havisham said, sipping a glass of lemonade.
Royston exhaled. “I can’t do it, Havisham. If you’ll excuse me.” He put his empty glass on the table and walked towards the archery field.
The earl nodded sadly, following him. “Listen, I didn’t want to do it, but I have some information on Mrs. Haywood that might change your mind.”
“I won’t change my mind,” Royston said.
Havisham took his arm, forcing him to stop. “I didn’t want to throw more mud at Mrs. Haywood, but I realise now that youmustknow the truth.” He took a deep breath and lowered his voice. “She uses desperate young women for her blackmail scheme. She’d do anything to gather compromising material on rich gentlemen, including abusing fallen women.”
Royston’s stomach seemed to be filled with ice. He’d heard of some brothel madams who used and abused their girls to blackmail their clients. If what Havisham had said was true, the news struck a deep chord within Royston. Wherever he turned, he found someone who wanted to attack and take advantage of unfortunate women like his mother.
“There’s more.” Havisham’s face hardened. “I paid a private investigator to follow Mrs. Haywood.”
“What?” Royston sounded outraged to his own ears.
Havisham looked hurt. “You refused to help me. I wanted to find some information about Mrs. Haywood I could use as leverage to get her off my back. Can you blame me?”
Well, no. “What did the private investigator discover?”
“Mrs. Haywood went to a few women’s shelters to recruit women desperate enough to do her bidding with the promise of large sums of money. I asked the private investigator to dig deeper, and it turned out that one of these shelters is managed by a Mrs. Walsh who receives generous donations from you.”
A quick pang stabbed Royston’s aching chest; it was as if he’d been punched. “It can’t be.”
Havisham lowered his gaze. “I’m sorry, Wharton, but it’s the truth. If you don’t believe me, ask Mrs. Walsh.”
“I don’t know what to say.” The pain was real. He could barely speak.
“Mrs. Haywood isn’t the good person you believe she is. Think about it.” Havisham patted Royston’s shoulder. “I’ll seeyou in the archery field. Good luck with the competition,” he said before leaving.
Royston needed more than luck to survive the nobility.
He remained still for a few moments, digesting the news. Angeline had never talked about her father, but he’d heard he’d died. If her father had left his family in need, Mrs. Haywood might have become desperate enough to resort to blackmail. He couldn’t judge that. He’d resorted to crime, too. But taking advantage of desperate fallen women, who had seen nothing but abuse, was cruel.
He ran a hand through his hair, not sure about what to do. On the one hand, he didn’t want to damage Mrs. Haywood, if what Havisham discovered was true, but on the other, he couldn’t allow her to hurt fallen women.
Still, recovering Havisham’s documents had nothing to do with helping fallen women, but if he could get a bloody seat and increase his political power, he might use it to stop people like Mrs. Haywood.
He released a breath, resuming walking. Too many thoughts crammed his mind. He needed a moment of peace and quiet to think.
To reach the archery field, he took a meandering path through the gardens to avoid Lady Redvers and her daughter on the main path. Perhaps he should leave. He’d made his donation for the fundraising. He wasn’t interested in anything else unless he could talk to Angeline, and not because of his doubts about her mother.
Right then, Angeline swept into view when he got closer to the edge of the archery field. Dressed in a lovely bottle-green dress, she stood out like a crown jewel. He smiled for no reason other than he was looking at her. An unusual flutter started in his chest.
She tested the bows set on the rails at the edge of the field. Other gentlemen were already practising shooting arrows at the hay targets for the upcoming elimination rounds.
“Careful with that arrow, miss,” a man said.
“The lady had to pull some strings to be here,” another one said, laughing.
More mutters and loud jokes came from a few men. She ignored them though.
