Page 116 of A Much Maligned Miss

“Stay with Lord and Lady Faris? How can I? When I’m—” She bit off her words. “When I’m—” It was no good. It did not matter how bold she liked to think of herself these days, she simply could not bring herself to fling her ruination in his face. “When you know my circumstances would make that most improper!” she concluded in a choked voice.

Gervaise breathed out noisily. “This would be the first step in making reparation for that,” he explained. “Jeremy and I have discussed the matter at length. Between us we can scotch any scandal before it even takes hold. You have stayed here under an alias, so—”

“No!” Caroline burst out violently, jumping up from the sofa. She paced agitatedly in one direction and then the other. She would not return to Benham Hall with Edgar! She could not. Not after knowing happiness for once in her wretched life. The thought was abhorrent! The mere prospect made her feel ill. She did not care if Diana was there now too. Diana had not stood a true friend to her when she had really needed one.

“Would it really be so bad?” he asked tightly.

“It would! I won’t do it!” she gasped. “I just won’t! I am sure Lord and Lady Faris mean it as a great kindness,” she said desperately. “But I am afraid I must refuse.”

Gervaise ground his teeth. “Your stay with them would be for the short term only, to account for your stay in London. Would you please be reasonable about this, Caroline? It is for the best, believe me.”

“I can’t!” Caroline admitted brokenly. “I’d sooner die!” How could she even contemplate returning to Penarth when she had been so happy here with him? She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. For a moment she couldn’t even speak, lest she burst into embarrassing sobs.

He stood up abruptly, breathing fast. “Very well, madam. You have made your feelings plain on the matter. I will take my leave of you. I can only hope that morning light finds you in a more reasonable frame of mind.”

“It won’t!” Caroline answered bleakly once the door had slammed shut after him. Flinging herself down on the sofa, she burst into noisy tears. Everything was at an end. Gervaise had tired of her. She was to be sent home in disgrace, a cast off mistress.

Perhaps he did not even think he had entirely ruined her, she thought sniffing dolefully as she picked herself up and made her way into the bedroom. Strictly speaking he had not actually taken her virginity. Maybe he had told Lord Faris that and that was why they thought reparation could be made.

She made for the washstand and a tear ran down her cheek as she picked up her tooth powder. She stared sightlessly into Gervaise’s shaving mirror. Maybe there had been a reason for that. Maybe, all along, he had intended to send her packing with a relatively clear conscience. Her face grew hot at the thought of him discussing her in such a manner. It was humiliating. It was not to be borne!

A little voice whispered in her ear that she ought to have snatched Gervaise’s hand off when he had offered her marriage, even if it had only been out of a sense of duty. Then she too could have moved into his pompous uncle’s home in Melbury Square instead of being bundled back to Penarth in disgrace.

No, that was unfair. She did not really know his uncle George, and Gervaise and the Farises intended to go to great lengths to sweep her sins under a carpet and patch up her leaky reputation. If it were not for…everything at home, she would perhaps be grateful for a second chance.

She stilled her quivering lips, splashing her face with cold water from the jug. Gervaise wanted her to be sensible. To be reasonable about their arrangement coming to an end, but it was no good. She simply could not be grateful or sensible about her life returning to awful respectability.

Throwing down the washcloth, she trailed over to the bed and huddled under the covers. What was she going to do? What choice did she have? Gervaise never had given her the four thousand pounds he had agreed to settle on her. Could she demand it from him and then abscond with it? Where would she go? Effie and Vi were her friends, she knew that and believed it, but they too were living in the attics here at The Citadel. It was not like they had shelter to offer her.

Benham Hall loomed up in her mind like some terrible specter. She shuddered, imagining being under its roof once more. The lurking horror of her nightmare, never far away these days, sprang to the forefront of her mind once again and she saw that still figure lying dead under the pergola.

Caroline suppressed a sob and Romulus jumped onto the bed with an enquiring noise. He made his way stealthily up the bedcovers until he reached her, butting his head against her own. “Oh, Romulus,” she quavered. “Are you comforting me?”

He repeated the action, circling before her and rubbing his face against her own. “I believe you are,” she whispered, stroking his warm fur. Remus padded into the room, and she felt him land on the bed with a thud before stretching out, a heavy, comforting weight against her legs.

And just who did Gervaise imagine would inherit the cats?

She was not going to allow him to ruin everything they had built together, she thought with a spark of indignation. He owed her! Not just the four thousand pounds, though if he thought he could get away with promising such a sum and then reneging, he had another thing coming!

He had made her feel things. He had…well, not made promises precisely but he had let her grow accustomed to having him around. He had spoiled and coddled her. He could not simply withdraw himself from her affections like that, she thought with gathering ire.

Such a thing would be unfeeling and inhumane. She would simply not stand for such treatment! She would tell him so too! And if he failed to agree, she would demand her four thousand pounds and forge her own way in life. Just her and the cats.

Tomorrow, she thought, her burning eyelids drifting down, she would sort it all out tomorrow. There had been something else she had intended doing tomorrow, she remembered before she drifted off to sleep. What had it been?

A green oval sign appeared in her mind’s eye. Green with gold lettering. Of course! The solicitors in The Temple. She would seek them out too and get to the bottom of that letter once and for all, she thought with determination. What a busy day she had ahead of her!

47

Gervaise rolled over with a groan. He felt like death. Where the hell was he? He frowned up at the whitewashed ceiling and felt the hard mattress beneath him. It wasn’t even a mattress, he realized, just a couple of blankets.

“You alive, milord?” asked a voice nearby. “Only, I got coffee for you here. It’s better than tea when you’re suffering the morning after.”

Gervaise squinted up into Jeb Morris’s face. “Where am I?” he asked, propping himself up on one elbow. He was still wearing his dress shirt and trousers, though he had lost his jacket and cravat. His head pounded and his mouth was dry. He ran a hand over his face before taking the proffered cup.

Jeb snorted. “You dossed down in the scullery in Reg’s bedroll.”

Gervaise glanced around, realizing he was indeed tucked away at the back of the scullery. “And displaced poor Reg from his bed?”