Page 20 of The Inconvenient Compromise
Lady Deerfield nodded. “I see. And what is it that you would have me do?”
“Lady Bruxton used Lady Habersham to spread terrible lies about the situation that resulted in the marriage between myself and Lord Rathmore,” Fiona explained. “It was unforeseen but not unwelcome. However, Lady Bruxton is now claiming an intimacy with him that has never occurred. And in doing so, is attempting to paint me as a… well, as a…—” Fiona broke off, uncertain what word to even use.
“A man-thieving harlot,” Sabine supplied. “In fact, nothing could be further from the truth. Lady Bruxton herself committed terrible acts—lies, and manipulations—to destroy the marriage of my friends Lord and Lady Mayville. Why? Because Lord Mayville had once had a tendre for her, and it angered her that he might have moved on to someone else. The woman’s vanity and self-centeredness are boundless… If she feels that she has failed to make Fiona a villain in the eyes of society, then it will force her hand. The more lies she tells, the more she connives and schemes before others, and the more suspicious they will become of her. But for that to happen, Fiona must be a success in society despite the rumors. That, Lady Deerfield, is where your influence is needed.”
“Ah. I see. You want invitations to… what, precisely?”
Penelope smiled at her. “Everything, Lady Deerfield. We want Fiona to have invitations to everything. Any event where Lady Bruxton will be in attendance, Fiona should be there looking beautiful and, above all, very happily married with a doting husband.”
Lady Deerfield began to smile, her thin lips spreading until the expression had shifted into a wicked grin. “Oh, it will infuriate her. It will infuriate them both. You may count on me, ladies. I will do whatever I can to give both of those wretched upstarts their comeuppance. I have never been able to abide a bully, and both of them fall firmly into that category… but I need to stress to you all, do not underestimate her. They are both vicious in their own way.”
“Oh, we are aware. On Lady Bruxton’s orders, Estelle Weddington nearly murdered me… just as she did the Countess of Kenworth,” Penelope said. “If anyone appreciates just how dangerous she is, I do. And that is one of the primary reasons she must be stopped.”
SEVENTEEN
Wednesday—evening…
They were invited to dine with Lord and Lady Ralston. They had only just made it to the main course of the dinner when the butler interrupted the meal with an urgent message. Lord Ralston scanned the missive, his jaw hardening and icy expression making him appear quite fierce.
“What is it, Theo?” Penelope asked.
He looked u at her and, for just a moment, his expression was completely unguarded. The love he had for his wife was impossible to deny. Fiona watched the interplay with a sense of wonder and, if she were entirely honest with herself, perhaps a bit of envy. She had, until meeting the two of them, along with the Earl and Countess of Winburn, never actually known a couple who truly loved one another.
It wasn’t simply long and lingering looks. There was an ease between them, a way of communicating that didn’t require words. Would she ever know that sort of intimacy, that sort of connection, with Lucian? Perhaps more importantly, would she be willing to allow the sort of vulnerability it would require to develop that kind of relationship?
“She’s escaped,” Lord Ralston replied succinctly. “Estelle Weddington has escaped.”
Penelope’s face paled, and a gasp escaped her. “How?”
“She was being transported from the asylum in Bath to a ship which would take her to the continent and a clinic there to treat her… ailment, for lack of a better word. And she has escaped,” he explained. “The missive was from her aunt, who felt compelled to warn us.”
“Would she come here?” Fiona asked. She knew Estelle, of course. The vicious young woman had been one of Charlotte’s favorites because she had no qualms about being intentionally cruel to others. In fact, she’d seemed to relish it.
“I fear that she would. She harbors great resentment for me,” Penelope answered. “She believes that I somehow stole Theo from her… that she owned him in some way.”
Fiona understood that only too well. Hadn’t she felt the same about the Earl of Kenworth? The primary difference being that she had not entirely lost touch with reality as Estelle seemed to have done. “What should we do?”
“Be cautious,” Lucian insisted. “The woman is insane. It was obvious long before the incidents in Bath. She is the greatest threat to your wife… So far as I know, she’s in no conflict with Fiona. So how do we protect Penelope? ”
“If Charlotte Farrday deems your wife a threat, then trust me when I say that Miss Weddington will do whatever is necessary to eliminate her,” Theo insisted. “The attempt she made on Penelope’s life was both incredibly brazen and very calculated… as was the attempt she made on the life of Miss Isabella Stamford, now the Countess of Kenworth. And all of those things were done at the behest of Charlotte Farraday in some form or other.”
* * *
Lucian said nothing to that,but it weighed heavily on his mind as he sipped his wine and considered what their next move should be. Above all, keeping Fiona and Penelope safe was the most important thing. “From this point forward, you and Penelope should steer clear of us. We can attend the parties and balls that we are invited to, but we need not associate so closely with one another.”
“It will not work,” Penelope insisted. “If we do not present a united front, if the people who have effectively broken with Charlotte do not appear to have formed an alliance, then the entire plan falls apart. We have power in numbers.”
Fiona placed her own glass on the table. “We are, for better or worse, in this together. Penelope and Lord Ralston, as well as Sabine and the Earl of Winburn, have made their position and their alliances clear. There is no backing away from that now.”
“Charlotte has a long memory,” Penelope agreed. “And a short temper. Estelle is the real issue. She is… unpredictable.”
Lucian tapped his fingers on the table, beating a soft rhythm as he weighed and measured all that had been said. “You go nowhere alone. Either of you. And that does not mean in one another’s company. Theo, Westerhaven, Winburn, or myself will be with you at all times. Or we leave tomorrow for Scotland, where we will be beyond Lady Bruxton’s reach and Miss Weddington’s.”
“I will not balk at those terms,” Penelope offered. “I’ve no wish to be pushed in front of another moving carriage or, heaven forbid, assaulted in some more imaginative fashion.”
Fiona nodded. “Indeed. We will be certain that we are always escorted. Safety in numbers, after all.”
By unspoken agreement, the conversation turned to topics that were more pleasant. And for a brief time, they attempted to be the carefree newlyweds that they ought to have been.
