story was the thickest, meatiest offering to come down the pike in years. Newspapers, scandal sheets and pamphlets had blanketed the streets. The city’s caricaturists had exploded into action. She’d been painted a villainess, a fool, a heroine or a cautionary tale, depending on who was talking and just who might be listening. Mobs of onlookers crowded around Hestia Wright’s house for days on end. They all wanted to see the baron’s daughter who had abandoned the safety of her father’s house and the promise of the Season’s best match to go and live in a house full of fallen women and semi-repentant whores. Everyone repeated the story, from the most elegant parlors of the West End to the lowest taverns in the East. Everyone in London and beyond burned with a single question: Why?
Truth be told, the question had echoed in his own mind as well. “I admit to being puzzled by your actions. You begged me, that night, to keep quiet about your troubles and our meeting. Discretion, you assured me, was the key to getting out of your predicament.” He frowned at her. “And yet, straight off you ran to the most notorious woman in London and ignited a scandal the likes of which London has never seen. So tell me, Miss Wilmott, why did you do it?”
She laughed. “That does seem to be the question of the Season, does it not?” Pursing her lips, she stared at him for a moment. “Do you know, I’ve seen that question in print often enough in the past three months, but you are the first person to ask me outright.”
He recoiled slightly. “Surely not.”
“I’m afraid so.” She shrugged.
“You expect me to believe that your father—”
“Raged, threatened and wept after he found me, but he never asked. He had no need to, truly—and in the end he threw his hands in the air and declared them washed clean of me.”
Aldmere frowned. “No need to ask why?” But comprehension dawned. “You told him, and he didn’t stand with you against Marstoke?”
Her gaze dropped for the first time as she bent her head.
He recalled the shaky fear that had lurked beneath her bravado that fateful evening, the quaver that had broken through her bold words, and the tear in her gown. “But did you explain . . . everything about that evening?”
“In detail. All of it except for your part.”
The bastard. Aldmere’s fists clenched. But then he realized. “Marstoke had a hold over him too,” he said flatly. For a moment he contemplated what it might be that would lead a man to forsake his own daughter, then he turned his focus back onto the girl. “I still don’t understand, though—why Hestia Wright?”
The boy at her side made a small noise and Aldmere watched her curb him with narrowed eyes before she turned back to glare at him. “I came here today to ask a question or two, your Grace, but I will answer this one—because I want you to understand the ramifications of what has happened.”
She squared her shoulders. “I confess, I ran to Hestia because of her reputation. Who else would stand against my father? Not his family, such as is left. My mother’s family is in Wales and lost contact long ago. My friend Jane might have helped me, but her mama would have marched me right back home. There was Hestia Wright, however, glamorous, beautiful, and well known for having powerful friends at every level of society. Even more notorious for offering refuge and standing firm at the side of any woman in trouble.” She sighed. “I didn’t understand the sort of difficulties I would bring to her door with my own notoriety. Nor did I know then of her long standing feud with Lord Marstoke.”
Aldmere opened his mouth to ask a question, but then closed it abruptly. She was starting down tangents he had no business following. He held up a hand. “Why are you here, Miss Wilmott?”
Her lips pinched shut. She glanced around, took in the
Truth be told, the question had echoed in his own mind as well. “I admit to being puzzled by your actions. You begged me, that night, to keep quiet about your troubles and our meeting. Discretion, you assured me, was the key to getting out of your predicament.” He frowned at her. “And yet, straight off you ran to the most notorious woman in London and ignited a scandal the likes of which London has never seen. So tell me, Miss Wilmott, why did you do it?”
She laughed. “That does seem to be the question of the Season, does it not?” Pursing her lips, she stared at him for a moment. “Do you know, I’ve seen that question in print often enough in the past three months, but you are the first person to ask me outright.”
He recoiled slightly. “Surely not.”
“I’m afraid so.” She shrugged.
“You expect me to believe that your father—”
“Raged, threatened and wept after he found me, but he never asked. He had no need to, truly—and in the end he threw his hands in the air and declared them washed clean of me.”
Aldmere frowned. “No need to ask why?” But comprehension dawned. “You told him, and he didn’t stand with you against Marstoke?”
Her gaze dropped for the first time as she bent her head.
He recalled the shaky fear that had lurked beneath her bravado that fateful evening, the quaver that had broken through her bold words, and the tear in her gown. “But did you explain . . . everything about that evening?”
“In detail. All of it except for your part.”
The bastard. Aldmere’s fists clenched. But then he realized. “Marstoke had a hold over him too,” he said flatly. For a moment he contemplated what it might be that would lead a man to forsake his own daughter, then he turned his focus back onto the girl. “I still don’t understand, though—why Hestia Wright?”
The boy at her side made a small noise and Aldmere watched her curb him with narrowed eyes before she turned back to glare at him. “I came here today to ask a question or two, your Grace, but I will answer this one—because I want you to understand the ramifications of what has happened.”
She squared her shoulders. “I confess, I ran to Hestia because of her reputation. Who else would stand against my father? Not his family, such as is left. My mother’s family is in Wales and lost contact long ago. My friend Jane might have helped me, but her mama would have marched me right back home. There was Hestia Wright, however, glamorous, beautiful, and well known for having powerful friends at every level of society. Even more notorious for offering refuge and standing firm at the side of any woman in trouble.” She sighed. “I didn’t understand the sort of difficulties I would bring to her door with my own notoriety. Nor did I know then of her long standing feud with Lord Marstoke.”
Aldmere opened his mouth to ask a question, but then closed it abruptly. She was starting down tangents he had no business following. He held up a hand. “Why are you here, Miss Wilmott?”
Her lips pinched shut. She glanced around, took in the
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