Page 10 of Souvenir of Love

Elizabeth couldn’t think—she didn’t understand. Louisa seemed fine when they’d left. But she hadn’t paid a great deal of attention to her—another of her sins, she knew, not paying enough attention to what people said and did and cautioned. She’d been so excited at the promise of the party, the prospect of adventure…

Relief rippled briefly over her.

Thank God Louisa hadn’t been here to witness her disgrace. Her mother would never rail at her the way Rafe most certainly would, but there would be deep, silent disappointment in her eyes. And that would be harder to bear. Her mother trusted her. Elizabeth hated to let her down. Again.

“Can I leave?” She struggled to keep her voice composed. “Now?”

“Of course, my dear.” Anne smiled gently. “Follow me.”

Elizabeth glanced back at James. He stood stiffly, his face expressionless.

“Come along, Elizabeth,” Anne prompted, “people are waiting.”

As the backstairs door to the Dinsmores’ library clicked closed behind the two women, James sank to his knees besidethe couch, hands pressed against the fading warmth where Elizabeth had been.

Why, he wondered, did people imagine hell was hot?

Hell, he felt certain, was deathly cold.

How strange to have entered a party withher head held high, her stomach fluttering with excitement, only to leave this way: creeping down the back stairs. Head bowed, Elizabeth followed a mercifully silent Anne Dinsmore, their skirts brushing the walls of the narrow, poorly lit passage.

They entered the kitchen, steamy and close, rank with the aromas of exhausted servants and roasting meats. A chaos of noise faded abruptly as the footmen and serving girls, cooks and scullery maids, stared as Anne and Elizabeth made their way past long tables piled high with half-eaten food and empty glasses.

Stepping out into the cool darkness of the mews, Elizabeth felt as if she’d been expelled from hell. She pulled her mantelet close, her eyes adjusting to the abrupt shift from the fiery brightness of the kitchen. The outline of her brother’s coach emerged from the shadows. The matched blacks lifted their hooves, impatient to be home. A footman in Dinsmore livery stepped forward, released the steps to the coach, and held the door open.

Elizabeth took a step forward, then turned, more from habit than thought.

She must thank her hostess.

She opened her mouth, but the usual platitudes seemed impossibly absurd. Shewasn’tgrateful she’d been invited—shewasn’tglad she’d come. The evening had turned out far from lovely. But she was the daughter of an earl, the sister of an earl,schooled in proper manners. Like carefully crafted clockwork, she said, “Thank you, Lady Anne.”

Anne smiled, a genuine smile that reached her pale-blue eyes and filled them with delight. “My pleasure, Lady Elizabeth.”

“Howcouldyou, Elizabeth?” Rafe demanded, a moment after the door to the carriage closed and the horses started forward.

“How do you know?” The question tumbled from her lips.

“How do weknow? The same way that everyone in that ballroom knows! Anne’s friends couldn’t wait to tell their friends what they’d seen. Elizabeth Harcrest seduced by James Dinsmore.What were you thinking?” He held up his hand as if to halt any explanation she might attempt. “No, let me amend that…youweren’tthinking. You never think, Elizabeth, at least not ahead. I tried to warn you, but you wouldn’t listen…”

Unwilling to face Rafe or his wife, sitting silently beside him, Elizabeth stared out the window, eyes fixed on the receding lights of the Dinsmores’ estate, aware of the fury in her brother’s voice, but not the actual words he was saying. As the carriage rolled out of the drive, the house was framed under the arch of a wrought-iron gate emblazoned with the scarlet and white family crest. Unfurled along the bottom in bold gold lettering was the family motto. Mindlessly, Elizabeth translated the Latin:Honor our shield, vengeance our sword.

“And now,” Rafe concluded, “I haven’t theslightestidea how we shall repair your reputation.”

Alix reached over and took his hand in hers. “We’ll think of something in the morning, when our heads are clearer. Things always look worse at night.”

“Perhaps, Alix.” His hand clenched in a fist. “But in this case, things will look farworseby morning. The Dinsmores’ guests have the remainder of the ball to gossip and speculate… Bythe time James Dinsmore has finished gloating about how he seduced the Earl of Moreham’s sister…”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Elizabeth broke in.

“He wouldn’t?” Skepticism dripped from Rafe’s voice.

“I know James.”

“Ah, yes, and after this evening, the rest of the ton will know preciselyhowwell.”

“Rafe, enough,” Alix hissed sharply. “I know you are distressed, but there is no reason to be cruel.”

“You’d rather I be kind? Understanding? That I listen to her watery declarations that she’ll mend her ways if I just forgive her one more time?” He gave an exhausted sigh. When he spoke again, his voice was that of a man who’d aged a lifetime in the past hour. “I’d like to forgive her, to forget this sordid mess ever happened. But society will not. There will be no invitations to Almack’s after this—the best parties, the most exclusive circles will be closed to her. As to who might want to marry her now…”