Page 78 of Everything a Lady is Not
Relief swept his features, and he exhaled loudly. He straightened his jacket and cravat, and strode toward her. Before she could react, he captured her hands in his. Heat emanated from his eyes.
“Lady Margaret,” he said in the voice of a cello. “I am unworthy to occupy the same world as you, let alone the same room. I am unfit to look upon you, let alone hold your hands. Yet here I stand, sorry for every time I doubted you, underestimated you, or failed to recognize you for the miracle you are. And from here onward, regardless of what happens, I vow to fight for you every minute, every hour, every day until your honor is restored.” Her hands began to tremble as he drew in a deep breath. “And though I am your inferior in every way, I would begin by offering you the only thing of value I have to give. My hand in marriage.”
Words failed Lucy. She simply stared into his smoldering eyes, unmoored. Henry. The man who had raised her up only to knock her down again. When the intensity of his gaze wavered, she saw through his determination to the fear beneath. Fear that she would reject him, as she rightly should.
“Nonsense!” The exclamation from James broke the stalemate and drew her attention. He stepped to Henry’s shoulder and leaned in to his ear. “In addition to your many failings, you do not even own a title.”
When Henry released her hands and leveled a deadly glare at his brother, Lucy knew. Henry had a plan. Her heart fluttered with something resembling hope.
“Tell him, Lord Garvey,” said Henry.
“It seems,” said Lord Garvey with great dramatic cadence, “That Mr. Beaumont is a knight of the Portuguese court, as evidenced by the medal awarded him by the King of Portugal for his service to the royal family of said country.”
James faced Lord Garvey, his face painted with incredulity. “Portugal? Portugal, you say?”
“Indeed.”
“No.” James lifted a finger at him. “The will requires a British title.”
Lord Garvey smiled wickedly and waved a hand over the document. “The duke’s will requires British suitors. It makes no such claim over the title, so long as it is royally bestowed. And the King of Portugal is, as you may know, royalty, so I declare Mr. Beaumont’s claim as a suitor to be valid.”
Lord Garvey slapped the sheaf of papers to make his not-so-gentle point. James seemed ready to argue before turning to Lucy, lifting his chin, and extending a hand. “Step away from my worthless half-brother, if you know what is good for you. Take my hand.”
Lucy locked her spine and lifted her chin to match his. “No.”
James stared at her with astonishment before his features grew hard with anger. “You bird-witted chit. You miserable country trollop. I can ruin you with a word.”
“Do it, then. Follow through with your threat, if you are man enough to do so. I am weary of the lies. I stand ready.”
His nose twitched with rage. He lifted his finger toward her and addressed the room. “This woman is a thief. She is wanted by the authorities. I sought to save her that disgrace, but she has made her disastrous choice.”
The collected guests grew expressions of shock and mumbled to one another in confusion.
“Please explain,” said Lord Garvey. “And if this is a fabrication, Ravensheugh, I will strike you down myself.”
James smiled with self-righteousness and explained the circumstances of Lucy’s upbringing, from her capture by Steadman to her association with criminals to her part in the robbery at Shooter’s Hill. Upon finishing, he stood with arms folded and features locked in cold satisfaction. Lord Garvey faced Lucy with alarm.
“Is this true?”
“All of it, sir. Although my involvement with the robbery was under duress and quite unintended.” She motioned to the fuming James. “His revelation comes too late, though. Bow Street already knows this information, which is the reason for Sir Hugh’s presence.”
Lord Canterfield, who had gone white as a sheet, cocked his head far to one side. “This cannot be true.”
“It is,” she said. “And I am glad the lie is over. All of you deserve to know the taint of what I would bring to your name. I expect to leave this place in custody to face the consequences of my actions—consequences that may cost me everything. I beg your forgiveness for my deceit and offer you this opportunity to withdraw your interest to preserve your honor.”
Lord Canterfield took a step backward, as did most of the other suitors, a symbol of their collective retreat. A hollow began opening inside her chest when Henry reappeared before her and recaptured her hands.
“I do not withdraw, Lucy. I will fight for you as promised. I will begin by finding Steadman again and not failing as before.”
She blinked rapidly as the details of his statement circled her brain. “Again? As before?”
Henry closed his eyes and nodded before reopening them. “When I left you, I tracked Steadman to a tavern in Twickenham and begged him to take actions to absolve you. When my persuasion failed, I told your story at Bow Street and convinced the magistrate to send Sir Hugh here for the purposes of writing a favorable report that might clear your name.”
Lucy stared at Henry with realization. He had already begun fighting for her! He had taken a desperate chance, but he had done it for her. Not for his long-sought redemption. However, her fate now relied on the whim of the Bow Street magistrate, a man she had never met. She engaged Sir Hugh.
“How will your report read?”
“Extremely favorably, my lady.”
