Page 60 of A Damsel for the Wounded Earl
“Is the maid going to talk about it?” he heard himself say.
Beatrice shook her head. “No, I think not, but as you know that is not the point. You must do the right thing, Arthur. You must see that.”
He drew in a long, shaking breath.
“This can’t be right, Mother. It’s what she’s been planning since…”
“Oh, please stop, Arthur! I am tired, sick and tired of you not taking responsibility. You became Lord Lanwood, yet Lucy and I are the ones who introduce you to the local society and arrange everything. I know you are ill, my darling boy, but you must try harder. You were always a boy who knew your duty, no matter how hard it was.”
Beatrice moved to stand before Arthur, taking his hand in hers.
“You know what you must do,” she continued, her voice low. “If this gets out, Miranda’s reputation will be irrevocably ruined. Every door in the country will be closed to her. Only a respectable marriage can save her. She would never have done this deliberately, I know that. It’s too great a risk.”
“All this for speaking with a man in an empty room?” Arthur managed, his voice trembling. “Can we really go on this way? Is this fair?”
“Fair? No, I should say not,” Beatrice muttered. “Over the last few days, I had… had begun to see that Miranda Sinclair was perhapsnotthe right wife for you, Arthur. Lucy does not like her, and I had intended her to leave. But now we simply cannot do that. You must offer to marry her, Arthur. You must.”
“I can’t.”
Beatrice’s hands on his tightened. “Youmust. You know what the world is like for women whose reputations are… are even dented, let alone ruined. The world treats women like delicate glass figurines, easily chipped or shattered altogether. It is not fair, of course it is not. But that is the way the world is.”
“She tried to kiss me, Mother. She knew I did not love her, and she’s tried constantly to attract my attention.”
Beatrice sighed. “I’m sure if Lucy had made a mistake, a small error of judgement, you wouldn’t want to see her treated harshly, would you?”
Arthur’s shoulders sank. He felt exhausted. Had he slept last night? No more than an hour or two at a time, he was sure. How could he, with all of this hanging over his head?
“You’re right,” he heard himself say, voice drained and scratchy. “I’ll do what’s right, Mother. I can’t… can’t leave her to the censure of Society. Not now.”
Beatrice squeezed his hands, leaning forward to press a kiss on his forehead.
“That’s my brave, kind boy. I love you more than words can say, Arthur.”
He nodded, forcing a weak smile. “I… I think I’d better lie down for a while. My head… my head hurts so much.”
Beatrice made herself smile. She seemed to be fighting back tears. She said nothing, watching Arthur stagger to the door and out into the hallway. She did not follow him, and frankly, he was grateful.
Is this what it has all come to? Me, having to propose marriage to Miranda in order to save her reputation?
Could Miranda really have done it all deliberately? The idea seemed ludicrous right now. If it was an accident, a simple error of judgement, then Beatrice was right – she did not deserve to risk a great punishment for a single mistake.
Rounding the corner, he nearly walked straight into Lucy. He staggered, and her hands automatically went out to steady him.
“Arthur?” she said, frowning. “You look green. Are you quite well? Is it your head again?”
“Yes, yes, my head. I’ve just learned that I’ve been a fool.”
Her expression hardened. “Tell me what happened, Arthur.”
“I just want to go to bed.”
Her hands tightened on his arms. “Tell me what happened, please. Tell me.”
“I can’t. You won’t be able to help.”
“Let me be the judge of that. For heaven’s sake, Arthur,tell me.”
***
