Living London (16 page)

"I have to leave." He spoke suddenly, breaking my confusion.

"What?" I asked, fear growing and doubt blossoming in my heart.

"I have to go; I have… business to attend to at my estate in Derbyshire."

"Oh" I spoke softly, searching his eyes in hope for more of an explanation.

He dropped his chin to his chest and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm doing this all wrong. Forgive me?" he asked, desperation obvious in his gaze.

"For what?" I whispered.

A lady's giggle and man's laughter broke our intense conversation. Morgan pressed me once again into the tree. "Shhh," he whispered. He stayed perfectly still till the couple went far enough out of sight. His anxiety was evident. Gone was the passion, replacing it was a stoic self-control. As he checked the scenery for other amorous couples, shivers overtook my body.

"Come, Jocelyn, let's get you inside. You're shaking, love."

Silently, we walked back to the house. "I'll fix this," he promised. I wanted so badly to ask what he was referring to, but I didn't get a chance to speak. He began giving me directions to a secluded ladies' washroom to clean up. Leaning down, he brushed my lips with a chaste kiss that made me want to cry. How had the evening gone from stellar in the romance department to me feeling depressed enough to cry myself to sleep for a month?

Morgan escorted me to the hall before promising to see me in a few days. Hope flickered at his affirmation of his return, but why was he leaving in the first place? What did it have to do with me? Afraid to ask and suddenly fighting tears, I nodded numbly and all but ran to the washroom. After cleaning up the considerable damage Morgan had so deliciously inflicted upon my hair and gown, I skirted my way into the ballroom.

"You can clean up all you want, scrub yourself clean, but you'll never be good enough," said the last voice I ever wanted to hear.

"Arynna." I spoke through clenched teeth as I turned around.

"Jocelyn," she countered with a syrupy smile that set my teeth on edge. "It's over. You might as well go home. He compromised you and is leaving. You are officially ruined." She smiled with unabashed triumph.

Unwilling to let her see how her words affected me, I glared at her and tried to pass, but she wouldn't let me. "I don't think you understand." She spoke in lofty tones as she circled me like a lioness stalking her prey, her eyes full of hatred I didn't deserve. "Your reign as a darling of the ton is now over. The very people who flocked to invite you to parties will cut you in the streets. They will gossip behind your back, and worse, directly to your face — pointing, laughing and staring at your folly."

"Why would you wish that on any one?" I asked.

She smirked and walked away, glancing once over her shoulder. "Enjoy the rest of your evening. It's the last one you'll enjoy for a long time to come." She turned, and she sashayed away, leaving me fuming and confused.

I went to notify the footman to ready my carriage. I simply wanted to go home.

Chapter Fourteen

My head pounded so severely I could almost hear it. Strangely, it sounded like incessant knocking. Rolling over in bed, I prayed I'd fall asleep again and wake up without the pain in my head and my heart.

Bang, bang, bang,
"Miss Westin!" came Mrs. Trimbleton's voice, and I realized the pounding wasn't my head. It was someone at my bedroom door.

"Yes?" I croaked, unable to muster the will to rise and open the door. "Come in." I buried myself further in the soft blankets, wondering what could be so important.

"Jocelyn! Get up! It's dreadful! I can't believe it! I can't fathom!" she lamented, rushing around the room, pulling open drawers and wardrobes as she set out my clothes for the day. She crushed a hairbrush to her ample bosom and finally considered me.

"Now, dear, don't you let it get you down. I know better than to believe a word of it, and that's the truth. You just hold your head up high. Don't pay any mind to those filthy lies."

She spoke as if trying to convince herself, not me. My headache was forgotten, and replacing it was the unnatural sensation of my blood running cold. "Whatever are you talking about?" I asked, not sure I wanted to know.

"Well, Jocelyn, you really should get dressed first. You're sure to have callers first thing, and it won't do to have you unprepared."

"Unprepared for what, exactly?" I tried again, foreboding sensations seeping under my skin.

"Well, it seems that the petty gossipers were quite busy last night, and the gossip papers were compelled to share their ill-gotten lies."

"What gossip and what papers?"
Why, oh, why, won't she just spit it out?

"All of them. The Tattler, Lady B's, and Fig's." She spoke the names quietly, as if it would lessen the blow. I was familiar with all of them. Though I didn't pay much attention to them, I knew most of polite society did.

"What do they say?" I asked through clenched teeth.

"Oh, Jocelyn. They all claim — mind you, I don't believe it — that you were, er, compromised." She spoke with a slight blush that made me suspect much more to the story. After all, weren't rumors of compromised debutants common?

"And who compromised me?" I asked, waiting for the larger shoe to drop.

"Lord Ashby."

The name speared through my heart. The memory of last night washed over me fresh, and again I realized just how easily I had been played a fool, at least that's how it seemed. I was wrong about Morgan, wretchedly wrong.
In so many ways.

"I'm so sorry, Jocelyn but I'm afraid there's more," she added quietly as she walked closer.

"Of course there is," I muttered.

Just then Libby burst into the room and stopped abruptly upon seeing my tears and Mrs. Trimbleton's attempt to comfort me. "Oh, miss. It's so terrible! Pack of wolves, all of them!" Her fury at the injustice gave me a small smile.

"They'd never have said such horrid things if they knew you. Lord Ashby wouldn't compromise you and leave!"

"What? Is
that
what they are saying? He compromised me and left me?" I asked, confused and hurt because their gossip sounded too much like the truth. "Why would they care? Why would it matter if he did or didn't?" I just wanted to go back to sleep and have it all be a bad dream.

"Because, dearie, you're a Westin, and there's nothing people love more than to see the righteous fall, hard," Mrs. Trimbleton murmured comfortingly.

"So how bad is it? What will happen now?" I asked, not really caring. My heart was broken anyway.

****

It was bad. Not only had the news been far more condemning than I had expected, but the only correspondence I'd received had been a scrap of paper notifying me that my voucher to Almack's had been revoked.

"How could this have happened?" I lamented, cursing Arynna Windton to the depths of Hades. She was the only one who would spread such lies. I picked up Mrs. B's society pages and reread the column.

On a scandalizing note, this author was deliciously informed that a very bright star fell from the heavens last night, into the arms of an up-and-coming rakehell. Miss W. was seen sharing an amorous exchange with the devilishly blue-eyed Lord A. Our informant was an eyewitness to the scene, where heated words were exchanged, and the conversation left no doubt. Not only was Miss W. thoroughly ruined, but Mr. A was not offering marriage. One has to wonder, what type of lady would so freely disregard propriety and run head first into foolhardy behavior and ruin herself beyond repair? The answer: no lady at all. So one has to wonder, then just what is Miss W.?

I slammed the paper down. Libby jumped at the sudden commotion. She hadn't left my side all day, and I was grateful for her friendship. Friends were obviously in short supply — it worried me that I hadn't heard from Amelia.

"Miss Westin? Miss Amelia is here, if you're available." Wains spoke gently, his eyes concerned, and I appreciated the gesture. My stoic butler had a soft spot after all.

"Yes, of course, please show her in." I released a breath of relief. At least Amelia was still talking with me.

"Jocelyn!" She all but ran into the room. Upon seeing my red eyes, she pulled me into a tight hug. "I won't even ask how you're doing. It's clear to see you're miserable, and I could strangle whoever did this to you." She spoke into my hair as she patted my back.

I wanted to cry again, but I didn't. There were no more tears. "I have my suspicions, but what's done is done. Aren't you risking a lot to be here?" I added, thankful that she had come yet concerned for her reputation at the same time. Mrs. Trimbleton had explained to me the possible repercussions I'd face in response to the rumor. Not only was my voucher at Almack's be revoked, but I could expect people to ignore me, pretend I didn't exist — in effect, cut me off. And if they
did
notice me, I would basically wish they hadn't because I'd be the topic of their ridicule. I'd be slandered, gossiped about, and all-around maligned in every way. No decent person would be seen with me. Which was why I was concerned about Amelia's reputation should they discover she visited me, the one with the scarlet letter.
Fantastic, and I thought being unpopular in high school was bad.

"Of course I came!" Amelia looked offended at my question, shaking me back from my thoughts.

"Thank you." I spoke with deep conviction. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you."

"Oh pish and tosh, that's what friends do!" She tried to smile and lighten the mood, but her efforts fell flat.

"So," she began as she took a seat next to me. "What on earth happened?"

"Oh, Amelia, I don't even know where to start."

"Well, why isn't Lord Ashby doing anything about this?"

"He's gone," I whispered.

"Gone?" she repeated, clearly questioning my answer.

"Yeah. I mean, yes. He told me last night that he had to leave to take care of some business in his country estate. He won't be back for a few days."

Amelia cursed, then immediately blushed and apologized for her outburst. "He's the only one who could fix this right now." She chewed her lip in thought.

"I don't think he would even if he were here, Amelia," I whispered, feeling like an idiot all over again.

"What? Why? He's been besotted from day one!" she argued.

"Well, it seems that we — rather,
I
was mistaken, I think. Agh!" I growled. "It's so confusing. He was so wildly romantic last night. Telling me that there was nothing more fearsome than living without my kiss, or me belonging to someone else other than him, and… well, he kissed me." I cleared my throat and turned a touch pink at the thought of just how much kissing had taken place. But I didn't know the Regency word for 'making out', so I had to stick with 'kiss.'

Her eyes widened, and I think she got the message even without words. "And well, he stopped and began to be very strange," I finished, remembering the odd, stricken expression and his cryptic words.

"Did he say anything?" Amelia prodded.

"Yes. He said he was sorry. That he had never meant to…" I trailed off, not wanting to repeat the word he had used. It carried such a painful connotation, and the wound was fresh. Amelia waited with practiced patience for me to formulate my words. "Basically he said that he never meant to put me in a compromising position, was sorry he did, he had to leave in the morning, and would fix it when he returned. Whatever that means," I mumbled at the end.

"Odd."

"Yes." I slouched in the chair, thankful Libby had shown mercy on me in my pitiful state and left my corset strangely loose.

"Do you think…?" She sat lost in her thought for a moment.

"Think what?" I asked, no longer caring.

"Do you think that maybe…maybe he was afraid you'd think he put you in a compromising position to take advantage of you and render you unmarriageable for anyone else? Securing your fortune?"

"I doubt it."

"Hmmm… something's not right." Her eyes squinted as if she were trying to work out a difficult math problem.

"No, nothing is right. Everything is miserable. Not only did I act like a fool with Morgan, practically throwing myself at him, but he doesn't even want me. And to make it worse, the entirety of London knows about it." I was in full pity-party mode.

"That doesn't make sense either. Who would have told them?"

"Oh, I know who told them." I spoke angrily. "Arynna. She all but told me last night that she was going to. I was just too naive or stupid to put the pieces together and stop her."

"Arynna? She did this? What did she say to you?" Amelia asked, eyes wide.

"Just that she knew, saw me come in with Morgan, heard he was leaving and sent me off with an 'I'll fix this.'" I put my fingers up in quotation marks, not caring that Amelia had no clue as to what I was doing. "And that she'd joyfully tell everyone about my ruin and she hoped I'd have a nice evening because it would be the last one I'd have. Yes, I believe that about sums it up." I was so angry I wanted to beat something. Or someone, preferably Arynna.

"No! What a… a…"Amelia sputtered, clearly unable to come up with a name horrible enough. I honestly couldn't think of one either. 'Witch with a b' seemed far too tame.

"I know," I mumbled, putting my face in my hands. "What am I going to do, Amelia? I'm officially ruined! No one cares that it's a lie — or at least mostly a lie. I even got my voucher at Almack's revoked." My words were garbled through my fingers. Taking a deep breath, I waited.

"I'm going to talk to Lord Heath and Reg when he returns. He left a few days ago, so don't be upset if you don't see him. He would have been here in a minute if he were around," she spoke confidently.

"Oh, and what exactly are all of them going to do about all this?" I asked, exasperated.

"I honestly don't know, but perhaps they'll have a few ideas." She patted my head and pulled me into a sideways hug. "It can't get any worse, right? It's got to go up from here."

Her words offered me little confidence. I didn't know. I just didn't know.