Page 28 of Love in the Time of Scandal
“Huh!” She snorted. “As if I ever wanted to speak to that vile pig.”
“And yet you were alone with him, in a room far from the other guests. Why?” he asked again. “Did someone send you?”
“I already told you, I didn’t mean to be alone with him,” she snapped. “I won’t tell you more, so please stop asking.”
Something flashed in his eyes, but only for a moment. “Whatever led you there was a foolish instinct. I hope you won’t give in to it again.”
She shuddered at the thought. “I don’t plan to.” She took a deep breath. “You said you wanted to warn me. Please just tell me what he’s saying. I promise I shan’t faint or weep or have a hysterical fit.”
Atherton took his time replying. “I thought you might like to know before it reaches your family’s ears. Your reputation is about to take a public flogging. The rumor I heard is that you’ve been little more than a whore, slipping away for liaisons during every ball and soiree this year.”
It took a moment for the awful words to sink in. The blood roared in her ears; her stomach dropped, and then heaved. “That no-account, lying, disgustingvillain,” she managed to gasp. “That’s—that’s a slanderous lie!”
“Indeed.”
She wrenched loose of his arm and paced away. She pressed her hands to her stomach, both to still them and to keep from casting up her accounts. And she had been worried Frances would call her a sly schemer—nothing pleasant, but not on this scale. If people believed this about her—tears prickled in her eyes—if her parents heard this—
Atherton followed her. “I suppose Clary means to ruin your chances of a decent marriage.”
Her lungs felt tight. Whether Clary intended that or not, he had achieved it. “Surely—surely people won’t believe it,” she whispered.
“Perhaps not,” he said after a moment.
Of course they would. Not everyone, but enough to stain her name forever.
“I do have a suggestion for how you can preserve your reputation.” Penelope started as the viscount’s voice came again, softer and closer than before. Gently he eased her shawl up around her shoulders again. “You could spike Clary’s guns before the gossip takes root, if you already had a suitor.”
“But I don’t...”
“You could.” His fingers ran down her arms.
Penelope jumped forward as if he’d prodded her with a fork and whirled around. “You?”
He smiled, the intimate, seductive expression that he’d never directed at her before. “I’d be delighted, my dear Miss Weston.”
“I wasn’t asking!”
“But I am offering.” Penelope just gaped at him in horror. Slowly Atherton started toward her, his eyes never leaving hers. “Think for a moment. What sort of attention will you attract from now on in London if you don’t have an apparent suitor at your side? There are any number of disreputable rogues who would be very interested in testing your willingness—and a few who wouldn’t be much bothered by unwillingness, either.”
Her skin crawled at the thought. “I could leave town. I’ll go stay with my sister in Richmond. If I’m not here, no one will have any joy in destroying my name.”
“Fleeing town will imply that every word is true.”
“I won’t flee. I’ll tell everyone I miss my sister and wait a few days before leaving.”
“And in those few days you’ll face a frenzy of whispers at every turn.”
Curse him, he was right. And it wouldn’t solve the problem of her parents hearing it all. Her face felt damp with perspiration. How could she possibly explain this? Mama would never believe her story about slipping on the stairs if they heard this hideous rumor. And once Mama knew she had lied, Penelope would have to confess what had really happened. Unfortunately, she feared that would only drag Olivia down and do nothing to save her.
“It would be a storm of gossip,” Atherton went on. “Clary’s tale is so salacious, some might have trouble believing it, but if a lady like Mrs. Lockwood confirmed that she’d seen you disheveled at a ball, just as the rumor described...” He didn’t finish, but he didn’t need to. On her own, Mrs. Lockwood might be able to hold her tongue, but if she was offered a chance to ruin Penelope with just a few words, with no real danger to her daughter, it might prove irresistible.
Her mouth thinned. “So! Through no fault of my own, people will think terrible things about me, but the momentyoustand up beside me, all will be forgotten. What is the world coming to, when a woman can be accused of—of—that, and her reputation can only be redeemed by the approval of a man? And of course people will believe the most terrible things about any woman if amansays them! Lord Clary deserves to be run down by a poultry wagon! I wish—” She stopped, her bosom heaving as she seethed. With an effort she recovered herself. “It is a very kind offer, my lord, but I must refuse.”
He cocked his head. “What better plan do you have?”
None. She pushed that thought aside. “I simply don’t think a false courtship between us would stop the rumormongers. If anything, it will make people suspect you were...”The man making love to me. Her face grew hotter than the Yule log blaze at Christmas. That was the last thing she needed to think about. “Involved,” she finished lamely.
“I disagree. There isn’t a breath of scandal attached to my name.”
