Page 14 of The Lady Confesses
“What reason could you have?”
“You drink and gamble so recklessly that any association with you is unwise. And others may not realize that you were thick as thieves with the Walpoles, but I know.I know.And perhaps I cannot prove that you aided them, but I will not be dissuaded from believing it. You should leave, Simon. You’re creating a scene.”
He pushed past her, nearly knocking her back down the steps. Had James not been behind her to catch her, she could only imagine that she would have been gravely injured by such a fall on the hard stones. She also could not imagine that such injury had not been Simon’s intention all along.
When he was gone, she smoothed her skirts and then stepped through the open door into the foyer. Arthur’s face was all but purple with rage, and for the first time since their marriage she knew beyond question that it was not directed at her.
“Insolent puppy!” He spat. “How dare he speak to me the way he did! If I could, I’d disown him entirely.”
As it stood, he would only inherit the title and a very small amount of money to maintain his estate. Everything else wouldrevert to her when Arthur died. “I find that I am very tired after that ugly scene, Arthur. Excuse me as I retire for a rest.”
He said nothing, just continued fuming and griping to the empty entry hall about his nephew’s worthlessness. Climbing the stairs, Hettie entered her room and closed the door behind her. Then she leaned back against the cool wood and tried to still the tremors that wracked her.
Simon’s words rang in her mind.Worthless as a woman. Unable to provide an heir.He didn’t know that his uncle’s impotence was the cause. More so, Hettie had the terrible realization that she could very much provide an heir, it just wouldn’t be an heir of Arthur’s blood.
It had been nearly six weeks since Mr. Ettinger had rescued her. Six weeks and her courses had not come.
“Oh, dear sweet heaven,” she whispered.
Could it be?
It was surely the only explanation. And it was about to make her life very, very complicated.
*
Simon didn’t returnto the Albany. He was half afraid to. What if Ardmore was waiting for him again? The deadline the moneylender had given him was fast approaching, and he was no closer to snatching the title and fortune from his uncle’s dying grasp than he had been when he’d made the foolish promise.
There would be no further extensions. There would be no more grace. And, terrifyingly, Simon knew that death might be preferable to whatever they would do to him.
If he couldn’t get to his uncle in his home, then he’d just have to get to him elsewhere. Because not getting to him, not ending the old bastard’s miserable life, was no longer an option. And hemight take it upon himself to get rid of Lady Ernsdale, as well. If for no other reason than she had insulted him so terribly. As if she had the right to bar him from a house that would one day be his!
“That bitch will pay, and so will Arthur,” he murmured to himself.
He needed a plan. A strategy. And since he couldn’t watch his uncle’s movements twenty-four hours a day, then he would need to enlist some help. There were any number of places in the city where such an accomplice might be obtained. One in particular was The Cock & Crow. A dockside tavern, dark and seedy, it was the sort of place where one’s name and face were forgotten as soon as they left. Given that he was about to embroil himself in a conspiracy for murder, being forgettable was vital to his continued existence.
Chapter Twelve
Two weeks later
Hettie stared atthe food on her plate as if it might actually try to bite her. It had been days since she’d eaten anything of consequence. Days enough for her to come to terms with the shocking realization that had come upon her only weeks earlier. She was with child. One indiscretion. One gloriously passionate moment followed by so much regret, and now she faced the ultimate consequence from such an encounter.
How long would it be before one of the servants told Arthur that she had not bled? How long would it be before he demanded to know who the father of her child was? Would he denounce her? Would he proclaim the child a bastard and cast her off? It was certainly possible. And regardless of how reprehensible his behavior had been from the very outset of their marriage, her one sin, in the eye of both society and the law, would far surpass the plethora of his.
She would have to tell Honoria the truth, and Vincent. He could not protect her when he did not know what she required protection from. But would he tellMr. Ettinger? And she forced herself to think of him thusly. As Mr. Ettinger. Thinking of him as Joss allowed the memories of their night together to creep in. And those memories were a weakness she could ill afford.
Would Vincent tell him? Likely, she supposed. If positions were reversed, she would. And he did have some entitlement to the knowledge, regardless of what he chose to do with it. But she wasn’t ready to face it. Not just yet.
“The duck is not to your liking?” Arthur asked. “Perhaps we should hire some French chef... more fashionable than our English cooks. Can’t abide their rich sauces. Frogs and snails. Slimy things.” The last was accompanied by a shudder.
Hettie had to place her hand over her mouth to keep from retching. It wasn’t even Arthur’s fault. In his own way, since her abduction and subsequent rescue, he’d been at least a tolerable husband. They’d struck their bargain, and he was adhering to it. He left her alone most of the time. They only ever saw one another for dinner or social engagements that they were both required to attend. Those were few and far between. Given the scandal of her abduction and Honoria’s marriage to the veritable king of London’s criminal underbelly, they were no longer high on anyone’s list of exalted guests.
“Arthur, my head is positively splitting,” she said, “Would it be too terribly difficult to just eat this meal in silence?”
He bristled at the question. Shoving his chair back from the table, he rose and tossed his serviette onto the linen table cover. “Fine. You wish to enjoy your meal in silence, I will simply take my leave of you... I liked you better before.”
“You didn’t like me at all before,” she pointed out.
“And less so now,” he countered before stalking out of the dining room. Moments later, the front door slammed. He would go to his club or to one of the gaming hells he frequented. He would drink and lose heavily and return home in a foul mood, likely the following morning. But he’d stay far from her, and that was all she could ask for.
