Page 73 of Leap of Faith
He sat at his desk and began to write furiously—the scrawl of the pen scratching against the paper the only noise in the room.
Mr. Cunningham was the first to arrive, followed shortly by the others. Apparently, dispatching the footmen had not been necessary as they had already read the announcement in the papers.
Rotham marched into the study in barely leashed fury. “Shall we hunt him down? This is no act of a gentleman and therefore does not warrant gentlemanly rules.”
“I assume you have already sent the retraction?” Carew asked, entering on Rotham’s heels.
Lord Westwood nodded.
Carew came immediately to Faith’s side and kneeled before her. “I know the circumstances are less than ideal, but would you be willing to accept me, lass? Even my tarnished name would be better than nothing.”
“I beg your pardon?” Westwood asked angrily. “We are not in such dire straits yet!”
Lord Westwood’s anger startled Faith. She looked down at Lord Carew and could see the flicker of annoyance in his eyes. His offer was made in earnest. But how could she admit that her feelings for him were of nothing more than friendship? Could she bear to marry him when she had feelings for Lord Westwood? She strongly suspected Grace had a tendre for the Irishman yet Faith might have no alternative to save her good name and that of her sisters. What a pickle!
“That is very generous of you to offer. I do not know what to think at the moment.” She tried to muster a gracious smile.
Carew flicked her on the chin. “You need not decide now, lass. But I think we would get on well together.”
“We can allow Miss Whitford to choose her fate later. First, we must deal with Sir Julian,” Westwood interrupted savagely.
“What do you intend for him?” Faith asked.
“Being drawn and quartered is too good for him,” Westwood snapped.
“Please do not call him out. I do not want him killed,” she said, firmly. “Promise me.” She looked steadily into his eyes.
He looked at her for a long, hard moment. “Very well. But it is no more than he deserves.”
“Surely there are other ways to torture him?” Rotham suggested.
“Indeed there are, but we must find him first,” Montford snarled.
“Knowing him, he’s at the club, preening like a peacock. He will think he’s won,” Freddy suggested.
“But how? The elopement is a sham. It is impossible for them to have gone to Gretna Green and back already. It is easily refuted. Besides, he requires my permission since she is not of age.”
“Not for an elopement. It is possible everyone will consider her ruined anyway.”
“This is ridiculous! She has not left London!” he almost shouted.
“Even without proof, rumour is often enough.”
“It is his word against mine. Not to mention the witnesses at Vauxhall.”
“Is that enough?”
“Perhaps not, unless she marries someone else. Hence my offer,” Carew defended himself.
“He will have gone to hide on the Continent if he knows what’s good for him,” Lord Westwood growled.
“How can he think to win with this antic?” Montford shook his head.
Faith listened to this discussion, feeling herself sinking into despair. Now her choices were limited, and what choices she did make would affect her sisters’ chances of good marriages. It was pointless to wish she’d never come to London or heard of Sir Julian. She could not even be angry with Lord Westwood, for how could he have known what would happen?
“I will go to White’s and see what the word is,” Rotham offered.
“I will join you,” Freddy said.
