Page 2 of The Viscount's Forgery
“I – oh… forgive me.” Polly, her voice soft and quiet now, hurried towards the three of them, leaving Eugenia to stand alone. “I did not realize you were present! I was just speaking to Eugenia, encouraging her to return to join us in the drawing room.”
Three pairs of eyes turned to Eugenia, who quickly dropped her head, embarrassed to be the center of attention. “I was returning to join you and was caught by this painting. I do not know the artist, I confess, but the work is exquisite.”
“Yes, it is.” Lord Bothwell took a step or two closer to her, his gaze lingering upon Polly as he moved. “It takes a good eye for someone to notice such a work. That gentleman is not particularly well known when it comes to his artwork, but I think it is exceptional.”
“As do I,” Eugenia said, relieved that Lord Bothwell, at least, had not come to criticize her. “Forgive me, I did not mean to bring you all out to see me. I became a little distracted by the beauty presented here.”
Lord Bothwell lifted his chin. “In truth, Miss Sherwood, I came to find my betrothed. I must say, however, when I first stepped into the hallway, I thought you were speaking with an unexpected visitor.” His frown burrowed into his forehead, his eyebrows dropping low. “I must say, I have never heard you speak in such a way before this moment.” This last sentence was directed towards Polly, making her eyes flare and her face whiten as Eugenia swallowed hard, suddenly afraid that what Polly had done would now endanger her engagement.
“I was a little frustrated with my sister for being tardy in her return, that is all,” Polly said quickly, a smile pinned to her face that did not match the fright in her eyes. “I am afraid I let my temper get the better of me.”
“But to speak so cruelly and without consideration, that is something concerning,” came the reply, as Eugenia’s mother clasped her husband’s arm, looking up at him though he said nothing. The air grew thick with tension, and Eugenia’s heart beat fast, her eyes going from Lord Bothwell to her sister and back again. Clearly, he had heard every word Polly had said and was now displeased with her, perhaps a trifle concerned over the sharp way she had spoken to Eugenia. That did not mean that he was to end the engagement, surely?
“I think it might be time for you to take your leave.” The Marquess cleared his throat and then inclined his head. “I do not mean to be rude, but I must do some considering, now.”
“Oh, please do not send me away!” Polly exclaimed, rushing towards him as their mother gasped, one hand going to her mouth. “It was a misunderstanding, that is all! What you heard from me is not at all what I am truly like, I assure you! We are all permitted to have our flaws, are we not?” She had one hand on the Marquess’ arm, gazing up at him fiercely, but strangely enough, the Marquess was looking directly at Eugenia.
Eugenia herself did not know what to do. Ought she simply to hold his gaze or should she say something? Should she defend her sister, state that it was not atallas the Marquess thought, and that Polly was never as cruel as she had usually been, or should she say nothing at all? Sweat broke out across her forehead as she opened her mouth to say something, only to close it again, not at all certain what she should do.
“I must consider,” the Marquess said again, speaking slowly now as he returned his gaze towards Polly. “Mayhap I was a little too hasty in considering engagement. Mayhap I do not truly know you in the way I ought.”
Polly began to exclaim aloud again, desperation in her voice, but Eugenia could only drop her head, aware that, in her heart, she agreed with the Marquess in that regard. He didnotknow Polly, not in the way that she did. He had always seen in her the very best of tempers, she had done nothing to displease him, and things had gone marvelously well. What he hadnotseen was the side of Polly that often brought so much pain to Eugenia’s heart, not until this moment. Had that been what he had been looking for in her eyes? Was that what he had wanted her to confirm or deny, that what he had heard from Polly truly was the sort of thing she said without hesitation?
“I think we must do as the Marquess asks, Polly,” their father said, glancing at the Marquess but saying nothing to him directly. “Come now.”
“This is allyourfault, Eugenia!” Polly cried, tears splashing down onto her cheeks. “You are the cause of all of this! If you had not stepped out to look at these paintings, then I would never have become frustrated with you and your absence. Why must you be so bothersome? Why must you seek out books instead of good company? Why must you be so much of abluestocking?”
Eugenia’s heart shattered as her mother gasped in horror. It was their father, however, who took command of the situation.
“My daughter is very upset, as you can see,” he told the Marquess, putting one arm around Polly’s shoulders and leading her from the room. “I do hope to hear from you in due course.”
The Marquess frowned but nodded. “Mayhap you and I might sit to have a conversation soon,” he suggested, giving Eugenia the impression that all was not lost. “I should like to speak with Miss Eugenia Sherwood also.”
Eugenia’s heart slammed hard into her chest. “I do not think there is any need for me to be present, surely?”
“If it will help Polly, then I am sure you shall,” her mother hissed in her ear, coming to stand directly beside Eugenia, her hand gripping her arm. “Do nothing but nod.”
“Of course, if you require it, then I shall,” Eugenia continued quickly, as the Marquess looked back at her again for a long moment before turning his gaze away.
“I thank you. Good day to you all.” Lord Bothwell turned away. “I am sorry it has come to an end in this way. I hope it will not be too long before I can invite you back to the house, Lord Sherwood.”
“As do I,” Eugenia’s father answered, as Eugenia was encouraged towards the door by her mother, Polly still sobbing in the background. “Good day, Lord Bothwell.”
Eugenia swallowed tightly as she made her way back along the hallway to the waiting carriage. Was this her fault, as her sister had said? If she had not lingered, if she had not been distracted by the painting, then Polly would never have come searching for her and would not have lost her temper in such a way! All the same, however, Eugenia did not think she could take the responsibility upon her shoulders for what Polly had said, nor the manner in which she had said it!
“I am sure he will change his mind,” Lady Derbyshire said soothingly, as they all sat down in the carriage. “You must not worry too much.”
“It is all Eugenia’s fault,” Polly sobbed, throwing out one hand in Eugenia’s direction. “She is the cause of all of this!”
There was a momentary silence. “I do not think that is fair,” their father said, surprising Eugenia with his determination to defend her. “You chose to speak in a most unkind manner, Polly.”
“But everything that I said is true!” Polly cried, tears splashing down onto her cheeks. “Eugeniaisa bluestocking! She knows far more than she ought, pursues this love of art with a diligence that she should be putting towards other things, things that a young lady should be pursuing.”
Eugenia looked down at her hands, a little afraid of what her mother or father would say. They had never called her a bluestocking before, nor had they ever banned her from reading and the like, but at the very same time, had made it perfectly clear what their expectations were for their daughters. Thus, Eugenia had always been very careful to hide her love of reading and learning from them, even when Polly had become aware of it all the same.
“Whether Eugenia is a bluestocking or not, she knows very well that it will not be tolerated either in our home nor in society,” the Viscount said, in a stern manner. “But you, Polly, are not without reproach here. You must understand that to speak as you did is not in the least bit acceptable. The Marquess will take some time to consider, it seems, and then wishes to speak with both me and Eugenia.”
“Eugenia?” Polly’s head shot up, her eyes flaring wide as she stared at her father, her gaze then travelling to Eugenia herself. “Why should he wish to speak withher?”
