background of the illustration, a group of ladies struck desperate postures, hands to their foreheads and shoulders limp. Ribbons of speech flowed from the ladies’ mouths. “It’s his golden-haired beauty,” one sighed. “No, his silver tongue!” argued another. The third fanned herself and declaimed, “How he gives me the vapors! We must recover by the sea.” At the bottom, the caricature was signed, H. M. Hollyhurst .
Bel looked up, puzzled. “Recover by the sea? I don’t understand.”
“When I disappeared, my parents spread the word that I’d taken ill and been sent to the seaside to convalesce. Instead of focusing on the scandal of my disappearance, the gossipmongers—
and this Mr. Hollyhurst—took a keen interest in Toby. They labeled him the ‘Rake Reborn,’
insinuated that he rejoiced in my illness and used it as an opportunity to prolong his debauched bachelor life.”
Bel looked at the illustration again, cringing. She’d suspected him to be a rake, but seeing the evidence in print… Sir Toby surrounded by fair-haired, slender, classical beauties adorned with plumes and jewels. A dozen Sophias.
She laid aside her toast. “I understand why Sir Toby said he’s weary of gossip.”
“He must be,” Sophia said, riffling the papers, “for he’s been in The Prattler every day for months. If it’s not one of Mr. Hollyhurst’s caricatures, it’s a notice in the society column.
They’ve cataloged his attendance at every ball, boxing match, opera house, and gaming club.
The paper has even gone so far as to tally the number of his paramours, since his near escape.”
The number of his paramours? Bel almost asked Sophia to relate the estimate, then stopped herself. “Surely you don’t credit any of it? Sir Toby told me himself, one shouldn’t believe everything in the newspapers. Do you believe such behavior of him?”
“No,” Sophia said. “At least, not to this degree. But I am amazed that he has tolerated such treatment.” She lowered her voice. “Do you realize, he could have made an immense scandal when I eloped, or even sued my father for breach of our marriage contract? Yet he said nothing, at least not publicly. He allowed the illusion of my illness to stand and took a drubbing in the papers all the while.”
An unhappy realization settled on Bel. “He must have been very much in love with you.”
Gray coughed violently.
Sophia pursed her lips. “No, actually. I don’t believe he was. But his pride must have incurred deep wounds, even if his heart remained intact. It must have been difficult for him to endure all this”—she indicated the newspapers—“so quietly. I don’t know why he did, after the way I used him so ill. But he has borne the brunt of public speculation regarding our broken engagement, and if he had not, I would have been ruined. We should not have been welcome in Society. Your own prospects for marriage would have been destroyed.”
“We owe him much, then.”
“Yes, we do.” Sophia gave her a meaningful look. “We owe him the chance to find happiness.
I did not love him as a wife should, but I cared for him—I care for him too much to see him trapped in a polite society marriage.”
“Trapped?” Bel’s teacup met its saucer with a loud crack. “Are you saying Sir Toby shouldn’t marry me? Am I not good enough for him?”
“No, that’s not it at all,” Sophia replied.
“Bel, he’s not good enough for you,” Gray said.
“I don’t mean to say that, either.” Sophia took a deep breath before continuing. “Bel, Toby will make some lady a fine husband. And you are everything he could dream of in a wife. Together, I daresay you could be very happy indeed—if you loved one another.”
“She’s not in love with the man.” Gray’s knife clattered to his plate. “She only met him last night.” He muttered an oath.
Bel cringed. Love . It seemed there was no escaping that word lately. Her brothers, Sophia …
they all
Bel looked up, puzzled. “Recover by the sea? I don’t understand.”
“When I disappeared, my parents spread the word that I’d taken ill and been sent to the seaside to convalesce. Instead of focusing on the scandal of my disappearance, the gossipmongers—
and this Mr. Hollyhurst—took a keen interest in Toby. They labeled him the ‘Rake Reborn,’
insinuated that he rejoiced in my illness and used it as an opportunity to prolong his debauched bachelor life.”
Bel looked at the illustration again, cringing. She’d suspected him to be a rake, but seeing the evidence in print… Sir Toby surrounded by fair-haired, slender, classical beauties adorned with plumes and jewels. A dozen Sophias.
She laid aside her toast. “I understand why Sir Toby said he’s weary of gossip.”
“He must be,” Sophia said, riffling the papers, “for he’s been in The Prattler every day for months. If it’s not one of Mr. Hollyhurst’s caricatures, it’s a notice in the society column.
They’ve cataloged his attendance at every ball, boxing match, opera house, and gaming club.
The paper has even gone so far as to tally the number of his paramours, since his near escape.”
The number of his paramours? Bel almost asked Sophia to relate the estimate, then stopped herself. “Surely you don’t credit any of it? Sir Toby told me himself, one shouldn’t believe everything in the newspapers. Do you believe such behavior of him?”
“No,” Sophia said. “At least, not to this degree. But I am amazed that he has tolerated such treatment.” She lowered her voice. “Do you realize, he could have made an immense scandal when I eloped, or even sued my father for breach of our marriage contract? Yet he said nothing, at least not publicly. He allowed the illusion of my illness to stand and took a drubbing in the papers all the while.”
An unhappy realization settled on Bel. “He must have been very much in love with you.”
Gray coughed violently.
Sophia pursed her lips. “No, actually. I don’t believe he was. But his pride must have incurred deep wounds, even if his heart remained intact. It must have been difficult for him to endure all this”—she indicated the newspapers—“so quietly. I don’t know why he did, after the way I used him so ill. But he has borne the brunt of public speculation regarding our broken engagement, and if he had not, I would have been ruined. We should not have been welcome in Society. Your own prospects for marriage would have been destroyed.”
“We owe him much, then.”
“Yes, we do.” Sophia gave her a meaningful look. “We owe him the chance to find happiness.
I did not love him as a wife should, but I cared for him—I care for him too much to see him trapped in a polite society marriage.”
“Trapped?” Bel’s teacup met its saucer with a loud crack. “Are you saying Sir Toby shouldn’t marry me? Am I not good enough for him?”
“No, that’s not it at all,” Sophia replied.
“Bel, he’s not good enough for you,” Gray said.
“I don’t mean to say that, either.” Sophia took a deep breath before continuing. “Bel, Toby will make some lady a fine husband. And you are everything he could dream of in a wife. Together, I daresay you could be very happy indeed—if you loved one another.”
“She’s not in love with the man.” Gray’s knife clattered to his plate. “She only met him last night.” He muttered an oath.
Bel cringed. Love . It seemed there was no escaping that word lately. Her brothers, Sophia …
they all
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