Page 40 of The Ruin of Miss Amelia Burrowes

“That it did.” Lawrence Burke would likely never show his face in London again.

“So wouldn’t you want me to know how your reputation is now as good as new when just after your wedding you were deemed a pariah?”

“A pariah?” Amelia caught her breath. She’d never known just how badly the ton thought of her after that dreadful Morning Post had been circulated. Only days later, Mr. Burke had fallen on his sword, and she’d suddenly been the most sympathetic figure in Society.

Celinda nodded sagely. “Mama told me I could not visit you or Nathan, even though we are cousins. And two days later, she was all smiles and said we should have the two of you over for dinner.” She fluttered her lashes at Amelia. “Don’t you want to tell me what actually went on?”

“Well…” She couldn’t tell Celinda the whole story, at least not what had been printed in the Post. “Mr. Burke was so upset that I was going to marry Nathan and not him that he started a rumor about me—a very bad rumor indeed.”

“A scandal?” Celinda sounded hopeful.

“A grave scandal. That is why the ton believed me a pariah.” Lord, but she’d been so close to being completely shunned by the whole of Society. “But then Nathan challenged Mr. Burke to a duel—”

“A duel?” Celinda’s voice rose so high heads turned toward them.

“Hush! No one can know.” Amelia looked around, but everyone had gone back to chatting or dancing. “Anyway, they didn’t fight because Mr. Burke gave in and apologized to Nathan and to me, and then he went about letting the whole ton know that he’d lied about me.”

“Did he write letters?” Celinda sounded doubtful. “Because that would be a lot of letters for one man to write. And gentlemen don’t write as well as ladies do, so he might’ve gotten it wrong, you know, and then you’d have been in an even bigger pickle.”

“No, he did not write letters, but he did put one in the newspapers.” That had been her idea. “Telling everyone that he’d lied about me and that I was innocent of the things he’d said about me.”

“Which newspaper?”

“All of them.”

Celinda’s jaw dropped. “All the newspapers in London?”

Amelia nodded. “That was the only way we could be sure everyone saw it.”

A frown came over Celinda’s face. “But what if people didn’t read the papers? Some don’t, you know.”

“We thought of that.” Amelia grinned. This part had been Nathan’s idea, and a more diabolical one she could not have imagined. Not only did it save her reputation, but it assured them that Mr. Burke would avoid all contact with members of the ton forever. “So we persuaded Mr. Burke to stand on a crate in Hyde Park during the fashionable hour every day for two weeks, with a big placard about his neck proclaiming him a liar.”

“Amelia, no!” Celinda’s eyes grew wide and round. “He stood there with everyone looking on? How embarrassing for him.”

“It served him right to lose his reputation when he almost lost me mine for good.” Amelia had gone to the park quite often those two weeks to watch the man’s humiliation. “I’m actually surprised you didn’t see him there.”

“Dear Lord.” Celinda made a moue. “That is why Mama and I had to visit my Aunt Mimi in Bath for two weeks in July. She obviously didn’t want me to see Mr. Burke and start asking questions.”

“I daresay that is the reason.” And likely a good one. Once the crowds got wind of what Burke had done, they’d taken to tormenting him, calling him names, throwing things at him, jeering until members of the watch had come and moved the hecklers along.

But Burke had borne it steadfastly. Of course, he likely knew that Nathan had assigned two footmen to keep watch, to make certain he stayed the entire time each day of the two weeks, moving his crate from one corner of the park to another to make certain as many people as possible saw him. And if anyone asked him a question regarding his lies, he was bound to answer it. Those exchanges had occasionally become rather heated, according to George and Peter, the footmen assigned the task. Things no lady, young or old, should hear, they said.

“So you see, Celinda, you do not wish to do anything that will put you in a position where you can lose your good standing in Society. It took me years to reclaim my reputation.” She could not impress that enough on Celinda who, Amelia feared, had too much a mind of her own.

“Well, I promise not to do anything too drastic, but that means that Papa must make some concessions where Lord Finley is concerned.” Celinda’s attention was caught by something, or someone, across the ballroom floor. “And there he is. Oh, thank you for inviting him, Amelia. I knew I could count on your support.”

“Who is—”

“Lord Finley, of course! I must secure him for the supper dance and at least one more.” She danced up on her toes, trying to see the tall, handsome lord, who seemed to be looking for someone himself.

“Then by all means, go secure your dances.” She pulled her friend in for an embrace. “But only dances, Celinda. No breaths of fresh air out on the darkened veranda.”

Celinda gave her a sly look. “I will remember that, Amelia. About the darkened veranda, that is.” And before Amelia could protest, the lady had gone, rushing toward her soon-to-be partner.

Amelia shook her head. Celinda was a force to be reckoned with. She did not envy Lord and Lady Ivor one iota.

“I thought she’d never leave.”