"I am not to be blamed for any of this
."
"Will you kindly tell me what happened?" Sidney was losing patience fast.
"It was the countess's fault, not mine."
"The countess," Sidney repeated, squeezing his eyes shut in exasperation. "For pity's sake, get on with it. Start from the beginning."
"As you know, I proposed to Lady Flora."
"And she gave you a definite yes?"
"Of course she said yes." Richard regarded him as if he were a candidate for Bedlam. "You know she's madly in love with me. She was thrilled, I can assure you."
Sidney chose to ignore the arrogance. This was Richard, after all. "So what happened next?"
"As you are aware, I have always been fond of the Countess de Clairmont. I find her a most desirable woman."
"You and half the men in London."
Richard bristled. "The Countess de Claremont is a respectable woman. Granted, a bit flamboyant, but with her lineage and title, she's accepted, Sidney. You know how the
ton
idolizes all things French. Makes all the difference in the world."
"True enough."
Get on with it.
"For years the countess has been in desperate straits financially, albeit she has always held out hope for recovering at least part of her father's estate."
"Stolen during the Revolution after the Duke lost his head."
"Exactly. Poor sod was filthy rich. Not only did he own a large estate near Dijon, he possessed a vast fortune in artwork of all descriptions, jewels, antiques and the like, as well as cash." Richard's eyes sparked. "A huge fortune, Sidney
."
"So?"
"So last night, after Lady Flora and her family left Vauxhall Gardens, I stayed on for a while. How could I not? The countess had been giving me a come-hither look all evening. You know what I mean. Naturally, I asked her to dance. It was then she told me her astounding news. Through faithful friends she has recovered much of her father's wealth. Not the estate near Dijon, of course. During the troubles, it was confiscated. But the rest. Jewels—artwork—gold coins, all hidden away. Faithful followers of the Duke finally tracked them down. The fortune has just been shipped to England. So,
voila!
The Countess de Clairmont is suddenly very wealthy indeed."
"Fine. I'm happy for the countess, but how does that pertain to you?"
Richard straightened out of his slump, his confidence restored. "She adores me. Always has. She knew I'd never marry her without a dowry, but last night she could hardly wait to inform me of the favorable changes in her fortune. She made it abundantly clear she would be delighted if I proposed and would accept in an instant. Practically threw herself at my feet. I would have proposed on the spot, if I had not...er, apparently indicated earlier to Lady Flora I wanted to marry her."
"Indicated
." Now Sidney sat straight. "What do you mean, indicated? Did you propose to Lady Flora or did you not?"
Richard rolled his eyes to the ceiling and back. "Er...the thing is, there's a delicate difference here. I cannot deny that I did propose, but we were not yet betrothed."
"And why not?"
"Because I had not yet spoken to her father. Don't you see? If Lord Rensley had not yet given permission, then how could we be officially betrothed?"
"Talk about splitting hairs!"
Richard sprang from his chair and started pacing. "Curse the timing
. What wretched luck. If only I had waited one more day. You've got to understand, Lady Flora's dowry is a drop in the bucket compared to the countess's fortune. You know how deep in debt I am. I would be a fool to turn it down."
"Dammit, Richard, I..." About to chastise his friend, Sidney took a moment to collect himself. Perhaps it wasn't too late. Perhaps reason could still prevail. He spoke softly. "Do you realize what you're doing? A gentleman never reneges on his proposal. It simply isn't done, Richard. You know as well as I, you will absolutely ruin your reputation if you do. Mark my words, you'll receive the cut direct from everyone you think counts in this world. You'll be ostracized."
"Perhaps, perhaps not. I'll take that chance."
"And what of Lady Flora?" Sidney thought of the radiant young woman he had seen the night before. "Is she not broken hearted?"
"Uh...I don't know."
"What? You haven't told her?"
"I sent my cousin to break the news."
"You sent Lord Dinsmore? I am appalled."
"Well, he wasn't very happy about it. Mad as blazes, actually." A worried frown creased Richard's forehead. "When he was calm enough, he talked much the same way you just did—all that drivel about how I'd be booted from the
ton
, exiled to France or a far corner of Siberia, all that rot."
"I take it you didn't listen."
"Certainly not. At that point, he wasn't about to be appeased, no matter what I did. He even said he'd marry the woman himself rather than see the family name disgraced."
As a dull, growing ache of foreboding swept through him, Sidney said, "Surely Dinsmore didn't mean it."
Richard shrugged. "Who knows? Have I ever understood the man? I do know he was quite taken with Lady Flora. Said so last night, before all this happened. But what if he did mean it?" He laughed, genuinely amused. "Lady Flora is lively, witty, beautiful—everything a London belle ought to be. Too bad if I've broken her heart, but be honest, Sidney, how long do you think it will take to mend? Probably one night, perhaps two at the most."
"Don't judge others by yourself
." Sidney resisted a sudden urge to grab Richard by the throat and shake him as he well deserved.
"Nonsense. She'll be back to flirting with all her beaus in no time. In a week she'll have forgotten my name. As for my cousin, I hate to sound unkind, but do you really think she'd be interested in a scar-faced, one-eyed, old wreck? Ha! Highly unlikely."
Sidney did not immediately answer. For a time he sat silently, absorbing the shock, suddenly realizing...
If I don't love Lady Flora, am I close to it?
Despite her insane obsession with Richard, she had been on Sidney's mind constantly since that day on the beach in Brighton. Just now, when Richard revealed his latest perfidy, Sidney found he had met the news with mixed emotions. He was appalled, of course, as who wouldn't be over such callous treachery. And yet, an unexpected surge of joy welled within him. Despite himself, he relished the moment immensely, keenly aware that now Lady Flora would forget Richard, and perhaps...?
What do I feel for her? What exactly do I want?
Sidney wasn't sure. Marriage was the farthest thing from his mind. He only knew he wanted her. He only knew his idiot friend was wrong when he insisted Flora's heart would be broken for only a day or two.
She must be devastated.
Sidney felt a twist of commiserate pain, just picturing her anguish. If only there was something he could do to help her. He felt sick at heart. So sick, in fact, that a troubling question popped into his head. If a man felt that deeply over a woman, might it not be love?
But love or no, he thought of a way to help her.
* * * *
"Flora?" Lady Rensley, Amy behind, tentatively poked her head through the doorway of Flora's darkened room. "You have a visitor, dear."
Flora lay prone on the bed, eyes closed, hardly able to move. Was it only a few hours ago her world had come to an end? She had to summon up the strength to ask them both to enter.
They came to her bed and hovered around it, deeply concerned. Lady Rensley asked, "Are you all right?"
Flora opened her eyes. "Fine," she whispered back, knowing she would never be fine again. She had only the vaguest memory of crying, "No!" to her astonished father, running up the stairs to her bed chamber, flinging herself upon the bed. No tears as yet. They were sure to come, but for the moment she felt nothing except a gnawing numbness.
Her mother sat on the side of the bed and patted her shoulder. "That cad, I am so incensed. At least I refrained from telling anyone." She paused. Her brow furrowed in a frown. "Well, almost anyone."
Flora groaned. "Whom did you tell?"
"Only Lady Constance Boles, and you know how discreet she is."
"Mama, she's not discreet in the slightest," Flora declared in near panic. "There's nothing she loves more than a juicy bit of
on-dit
."
"I swore her to secrecy," Lady Rensley vehemently reassured her.
"All right, Mama," Flora answered. "Let's hope you're right."
Lady Rensley clenched her fists. "That beastly man! What Lord Dashwood did was just...just dastardly. If word leaks out, he must be punished. I shall make sure he receives the cut direct from everyone."
"Let it go," Flora wearily replied. "What good would it do, except to call attention to the fact I've been jilted?"
Jilted.
Even the sound of the word struck anguish in her heart.
Amy said, "I cannot believe Lord Dashwood would do this to you."
"But he did, didn't he?" Flora managed a faint, bitter smile. "I cannot fathom why he asked me in the first place if he was so quickly to change his mind."
"Lord Dinsmore was quite vague on the subject," declared Lady Rensley. "Hinted about 'unforseen circumstances.'"
"Such rot," declared Amy. "I'd wager the Countess de Clairmont has something to do with this. Did you notice how she was ogling him all evening?"
"What difference does it make now?" asked Flora, knowing the truth could hardly lift the bleakness from her heart. "You say Lord Dinsmore has asked for my hand? I find that incredible. I only met the man last night." She sat up, swung her legs over the side of the bed, and went to her full-length looking glass where she examined her crumpled tear-stained image. "I am such a mess. Amy, will you get Baker? Lord Dinsmore mustn't see me like this."
"Lord Dinsmore hasn't arrived as yet," her mother answered. "Your visitor is Lord Lynd."
* * * *
Flora entered the study knowing that on this, the worst day of her life, she looked the very best she could possibly look. She had chosen a gown of rose-colored calico, the brightest and most cheerful she owned. Baker had swept her hair up into soft curls atop her head, festooned with a jeweled comb.
Not that she cared what she wore, since she felt nothing but numbness inside. But she must put up a brave front and not let anyone, including Lord Lynd, know she was in a state of despair
. Oh, Richard, I loved you so much. How could you change so suddenly?
Lord Lynd stood as she entered and gave her a greeting accompanied by a formal bow.
"How delightful to see you, Lord Lynd," she said, closing the double doors behind her. "To what do I owe—?"
"Don't say you're delighted when you're not," Lynd bluntly answered. "You don't have to pretend with me. I am well aware of Dashwood's latest...er, shall we say, lapse. May I say, I am appalled."
Her first response was a rush of gratitude for Lynd's words of sympathy. She concealed it, though, as her pride took hold and with dignity she tilted her chin. "Lapse is hardly the word, sir. I appreciate your sympathy, although I assure you, I shall be fine."
"Will you?" There was tenderness in his warm brown eyes, as well as a touch of skepticism. "Come, I have something to say to you." He reached for her hand and led her to the green-striped settee, where they both sat down.
"What do you want to say?" she asked, extremely puzzled.
"I've come to ask for your hand."
For a moment she sat frozen with astonishment. "Am I hearing correctly?" she asked.
"You are indeed."
"But...why?"
He easily replied, "You're an extremely desirable woman, Lady Flora. In the months Since Brighton, I've grown quite fond of you."
"But that's not why you're here," she cried, shifting away from him. "You're here because you know Lord Dashwood jilted me." She regarded him with horror. "You feel sorry for me."
"It's not that," he began, then thought a moment. "True, I'm shocked at Dashwood's actions and can only imagine the scandal that's sure to follow. You don't deserve such a fate."
"So you're here to save me?" she asked, her resentment rising.
"Yes," he replied bluntly. "Agree to marry me and there will be no scandal. It'll be obvious the gossip came from a misunderstanding. No one will be the wiser."
"I cannot accept," she answered with a proud toss of her head. "For one thing, I don't love you. For another, there will be no gossip. Only a few people know of Lord Dashwood's...change of heart, and they're not going to tell."
"I see." He stood and looked down at her, his face a mask. "Well, then, it appears the matter is in hand, doesn't it?"
She stood to face him, realizing as she did so that much as she resented it, his offer was made out of kindness. "Lord Dashwood, I truly appreciate—"
"Say not another word," he declared, raising his hand.
He had reached the door when she realized how rude she'd been, how hurtful. "Lord Lynd! Please don't think that I... I mean, when I said I didn't love you, that doesn't mean I'm not fond of you. And I'm truly grateful—"