Page 28 of Unending Joy
Westwood did not answer. He walked to the window and looked out over the street. “She deserves better than ridicule. And she deserves better than scandal. I may not know how to help her, but I must try something before she becomes…ruined.”
Freddy glanced down at his hands, now clenched on the arms of his chair. He had known, of course, that Joy was a complication. But he had not realized until now how keenly he disliked the idea of her being married off to someone who viewed her as aburdento be endured or reshaped.
“She will not be ruined,” he said. “Not while we are about.”
“Indeed not,” Rotham agreed. “So long as we are careful. And so long as no one tempts her further?—”
He stopped, giving Freddy a scolding look.
“I did not tempt her,” Freddy said slightly too quickly.
“Mm,” said Montford.
“Of course not,” said Stuart.
“Perhaps you are the one who should be courting her. It would solve all your problems,” Rotham added.
Freddy stood. “If we are quite done with casting aspersions upon my problems, I shall go and walk off this shame.”
Freddy left his own breakfast room with a frown that did not lift until he was halfway down Park Lane and the breeze caught the edge of his coat.
Joy. Racing down Rotten Row like a Valkyrie, hair streaming, laughter echoing behind her.
He was not courting her. He was merely watching her—and wondering what it would take to find a world large enough for her to belong in, without apology. The worst thing in the world he could imagine was Joy being reformed into a stodgy Society matron. He could not let that happen.
CHAPTER 9
Having been summoned to the drawing room the next morning, Joy was instilled with dread. The sunbeams poured through the windows and illuminated the dust motes that swirled in the air. The chamber itself, with its warm rose damask and tall windows, exuded cosiness despite its elegance. Sunlight fell upon the plush carpet in glowing rectangles, where the mischievous kittens rolled and pounced on a feather Joy dangled from a string.
It was then that her sisters descended in unison—a formidable threesome of determined, loving, and anxious presence, determined to salvage her good name. Joy had expected them to dispatch Lord Westwood to lecture her, but instead they had arrived themselves. Faith, Hope, and Patience each scooped up a kitten at once—thereby offsetting the gravity of their business. At least the Dowager had not joined in the scold.
“Joy, you cannot simply hide,” Faith declared, seating herself on the settee with Lord Orville, the grey tabby, purring in her arms. Her voice carried a blend of anxious affection and motherly authority. “We cannot let another day pass without setting all to rights.”
Hiding had never occurred to Joy, but she instantly thought it a marvellous idea. “I expected a proper scolding from Westwood.”
Hope settled next to Faith. “Westwood went to scold Mr. Cunningham. I think you have the better bargain.”
Joy’s eyes widened. “He went to scold Freddy?” she repeated, picturing Westwood’s stern brow as he delivered a dressing-down to her dearest friend. She failed to see how it solved her current predicament. Freddy’s reputation would not be tarnished by their race.
“Indeed,” Faith replied, “Along with Rotham, Montford, and Stuart, but they can remedy only so much. They cannot confront every last whisper on your behalf.”
Joy sighed. “They ought not confront any of them. It was my misadventure that started all this.” She felt a pang of regret over her impulsive race through the park.
At that moment, Hope’s kitten wriggled free of her arms and bounded across the carpet to chase a stray thread. “Are you truly keeping all these kittens, Joy?” Patience asked, glancing from the purring bundle in her lap to the others on the floor. “They are darling now, but soon they shall grow and make more kittens.”
Reluctantly, Joy admitted, “I suppose I ought to find them new families, but it is difficult when they are so dear.” She reached down to ruffle Camilla’s tiny ears, eliciting an extra-loud purr.
Faith seized upon this gesture to shift back to the matter at hand. “Your exuberance for life has been misinterpreted with regard to certain social niceties, misleading thetonto think you a hoyden. We cannot rely on the gentlemen alone to smooth over any misunderstandings. We are here now to decide how to repair your reputation.”
“But Iama hoyden,” Joy protested.
Hope ignored her remark. “You must attend teas and at-homes for the nonce. If you show them that you can be perfectly demure and contrite, then talk will fade.”
Joy frowned, stroking her chosen kitten. “No one will believe me meek,” she pointed out quietly. “Why can we not simply retire to the country and remain there? I have no need of marriage. I will devote myself to being the doting auntie to all your children.”
Her sisters exchanged glances at her plea, then Faith gently shook her head. “That is an option we would prefer to avoid. You know well enough that eventually you will wish for your own family. Beyond that, you deserve better than to hide away.”
“Besides,” Hope added, “we cannot have thetonthinking we are burying you in the country because of some irreparable scandal. If we do that, your reputation will only grow. You must face Society with confidence.”
