wanton, and very dissolute orgies.”
He paused for a moment, as if to let the implications of this sink in, before turning to face her with that infuriating smile curving the corner of his mouth.
“Did you know?”
Joanna only knew that she was scarlet.
Chagrin burned in her like smoldering pitch. She hated her impotence in the world, and this arrogant certainty only highlighted it, forcing her to face her ignorance and naiveté, and the fact that she had just made a complete fool of herself.
“But Mrs. Barton-Smith said—”
Richard interrupted. “Of course, she didn’t know. What the devil do you think my sister is?”
“She is nothing to me, Lord Lenwood.”
Fitzroy saw the flush wash up her cheeks as she dropped back to her chair. The humiliating color stained those perfect high cheekbones, making her black eyes brilliant in contrast. They shone with unshed tears, restrained with a determination and bravery that took his breath away.
She blinked them back, leaving her long lashes damp. The gesture was painfully vulnerable, and feminine, and defenseless.
Dear God! She had ruined her future for a chimera, a dream that did not exist.
He stalked back to the window and took a deep breath.
His own brother, Quentin Mountfitchet, had not flinched from leading this innocent to her damnation, and he himself had reacted by kissing her as if she were a doxy.
Let Richard Acton shoot them both down!
Lady Joanna could not be saved, and Lord Tarrant had just spent the last hour proving that he was no better than Quentin, that they were both equally beyond the reach of grace, beyond any hope of salvation.
The bitter knowledge rose in his throat like bile. Almost blindly, he watched a coach pull into the yard below, a chaise and four with two outriders. His family crest was emblazoned on the panel.
She is nothing to me, Lord Lenwood.
His mouth twisted into a caricature of a smile. He was watching the arrival of his doom. All the many possibilities that the situation might have contained now began to collapse together into one inevitable and appalling certainty.
The veins stood out starkly on his hands as he spread his fingers over the window frame.
What the hell! What the hell did it matter?
He thrust his fist hard against the wood, making the latch rattle, before he turned back to face them. Lenwood sat next to his sister, holding her hand in his own with a natural tenderness. She had buried her face against his coat.
“I’m sorry about all of this, Lenwood,” Fitzroy said quietly. “It has no doubt been damnable for you to be forced into my company in such a way. But the situation is about to be taken out of our hands. The Black Earl has arrived, Lord Evenham, my father. He is descending from his carriage as we speak. He bears the rattle of wedding bells at his coattails, and the sour taste of the nuptial toast in his mouth.”
“He will make Quentin marry me?” Lady Joanna asked faintly, rubbing away the trace of tears.
“Oh, no, my dear,” Fitzroy said softly. “You are safe from that. He cannot do so. You see, Quentin is already married.”
Flat silence filled the room as Lord Lenwood gazed blankly at Fitzroy for a moment, then Joanna began to laugh.
“Married!” she exclaimed. “Quentin has a wife? Then I’m free, after all.”
“You will never be free again, after this,” Fitzroy said fiercely. “That’s what your brother has been trying to tell you. An elopement can always be covered up and turned into a respectable marriage. But for a young lady of your station to run away with a married man destroys her forever in the eyes of society.”
“But—”
“Yes. Whatever you may think or desire, your father has absolute legal control of your person. He may take what revenge he will. I’m sorry, but there’s not a damned thing your brother can do about it.”
“Would you be kind enough to tell us about Quentin’s mysterious spouse, Tarrant?” Lenwood asked, his voice cold and
He paused for a moment, as if to let the implications of this sink in, before turning to face her with that infuriating smile curving the corner of his mouth.
“Did you know?”
Joanna only knew that she was scarlet.
Chagrin burned in her like smoldering pitch. She hated her impotence in the world, and this arrogant certainty only highlighted it, forcing her to face her ignorance and naiveté, and the fact that she had just made a complete fool of herself.
“But Mrs. Barton-Smith said—”
Richard interrupted. “Of course, she didn’t know. What the devil do you think my sister is?”
“She is nothing to me, Lord Lenwood.”
Fitzroy saw the flush wash up her cheeks as she dropped back to her chair. The humiliating color stained those perfect high cheekbones, making her black eyes brilliant in contrast. They shone with unshed tears, restrained with a determination and bravery that took his breath away.
She blinked them back, leaving her long lashes damp. The gesture was painfully vulnerable, and feminine, and defenseless.
Dear God! She had ruined her future for a chimera, a dream that did not exist.
He stalked back to the window and took a deep breath.
His own brother, Quentin Mountfitchet, had not flinched from leading this innocent to her damnation, and he himself had reacted by kissing her as if she were a doxy.
Let Richard Acton shoot them both down!
Lady Joanna could not be saved, and Lord Tarrant had just spent the last hour proving that he was no better than Quentin, that they were both equally beyond the reach of grace, beyond any hope of salvation.
The bitter knowledge rose in his throat like bile. Almost blindly, he watched a coach pull into the yard below, a chaise and four with two outriders. His family crest was emblazoned on the panel.
She is nothing to me, Lord Lenwood.
His mouth twisted into a caricature of a smile. He was watching the arrival of his doom. All the many possibilities that the situation might have contained now began to collapse together into one inevitable and appalling certainty.
The veins stood out starkly on his hands as he spread his fingers over the window frame.
What the hell! What the hell did it matter?
He thrust his fist hard against the wood, making the latch rattle, before he turned back to face them. Lenwood sat next to his sister, holding her hand in his own with a natural tenderness. She had buried her face against his coat.
“I’m sorry about all of this, Lenwood,” Fitzroy said quietly. “It has no doubt been damnable for you to be forced into my company in such a way. But the situation is about to be taken out of our hands. The Black Earl has arrived, Lord Evenham, my father. He is descending from his carriage as we speak. He bears the rattle of wedding bells at his coattails, and the sour taste of the nuptial toast in his mouth.”
“He will make Quentin marry me?” Lady Joanna asked faintly, rubbing away the trace of tears.
“Oh, no, my dear,” Fitzroy said softly. “You are safe from that. He cannot do so. You see, Quentin is already married.”
Flat silence filled the room as Lord Lenwood gazed blankly at Fitzroy for a moment, then Joanna began to laugh.
“Married!” she exclaimed. “Quentin has a wife? Then I’m free, after all.”
“You will never be free again, after this,” Fitzroy said fiercely. “That’s what your brother has been trying to tell you. An elopement can always be covered up and turned into a respectable marriage. But for a young lady of your station to run away with a married man destroys her forever in the eyes of society.”
“But—”
“Yes. Whatever you may think or desire, your father has absolute legal control of your person. He may take what revenge he will. I’m sorry, but there’s not a damned thing your brother can do about it.”
“Would you be kind enough to tell us about Quentin’s mysterious spouse, Tarrant?” Lenwood asked, his voice cold and
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