Before, all he had to worry about was whether Angelica would reveal his secret to her peers. Now, she would have none. His hands clenched the felt-covered table until he heard the wood squeal in protest. Then again, she may yet be able to open her mouth to someone. There must be a way to silence her and also repair the damage he’d done.
A mad notion whispered in the back of his head. The more he thought about it, the more attractive the idea became. If the plan proved successful, not only could he ensure that Angelica kept her mouth shut, but she would be welcomed back into society and pampered more than ever. And, hopefully, the rest of the speculations about his nocturnal proclivities should cease as well.
Ian smiled as he handed Wentworth the quill and gestured to the betting book. “You are about to make a tidy profit, my friend.”
“Why is that?” His friend blinked in confusion at the abrupt change in mood.
“I will bed the Winthrop heiress,” Ian said with a wry grin. “However, it shall be after I wed her.”
Eight
The moment the Winthrops were announced by the Cavendish butler, Angelica knew something was wrong. The throng abruptly fell silent as the Winthrops took their place in the receiving line. Icy stares and amused glances pelted her and her parents before the ballroom erupted in whispers and mocking laughter. When her mother led them to greet the hostess, Lady Cavendish cut her dead.
“Surely she cannot still be upset that I won her ruby earrings last month,” Margaret whispered. Her cheeks flamed scarlet. “It’s not my fault that she is a dreadful whist player!”
As they made their way to the refreshment table, Baron Osgoode approached them and retracted his offer of marriage.
“I am certain you understand,” he said, favoring her with a stiff, mocking bow.
“Though I am happy to be relieved of your suit, I do not understand,” Angelica replied, voice laden with deliberate scorn at his rudeness.
Osgoode swept her with a scathing glare. “Come off the act, little miss. Everyone knows what happened between you and the Duke of Burnrath.”
“Do you mean to tell me,” her mother’s voice quavered in indignation, “that you are refusing her simply because she danced with His Grace at the Wentworth ball?”
Osgoode sneered. “So, she lied to you as well. I assure you, madam, that she has done more than dance with him.” With another mocking bow, he left to lead a blonde beauty onto the dance floor. He whispered in her ear, and they both glanced at the Winthrops and smirked.
“Explain yourself immediately!” Margaret hissed.
Angelica swallowed. Suddenly the glitter of the chandeliers and the bejeweled nobles around her was overwhelming to the point of nausea. “When I sprained my ankle, the duke found me, not the coachman. His Grace sent his coachman for the doctor. He did not touch me other than to carry me to his couch and check for broken bones.” She did not dare confess that he also drank her blood… and nearly kissed her.
“You mean to tell me that you were inside his home with him alone?” her mother panted, appearing to be close to an attack of the vapors. “Do you know what you’ve done? We’re ruined! No man will have you now, and my father will cut us off from every shilling of my inheritance!”
Ruined. It had finally happened. She was free. She opened her mouth to say, I told you I did not wish to wed, but the sight of her mother’s pallor and the heartbroken look on her father’s face gave her pause. In that moment, she knew that not only did her parents love each other, but they also both loved her and honestly believed a marriage would be best for her. Her belly knotted with something that felt suspiciously like guilt. I never wanted to hurt them. As if her intentions would make everything well again.
“We had better leave,” Margaret said, practically tugging Angelica’s father along. The richly garbed crowd of spectators resembled a malevolent rainbow sea.
“The Duke and Duchess of Wentworth!” The Cavendish butler pounded his cane as he announced the latest arrivals.
Her mother paled further and Angelica winced at the realization that more of their friends were arriving to hear of her family’s disgrace. The duke and duchess greeted their hostess and then approached the Winthrops with friendly smiles.
“They must not have heard yet,” Papa muttered, staring at the polished floor.
“That makes this disaster all the more humiliating!” Mother wailed, clinging to his arm.
I will atone for this somehow, Angelica vowed. I shall stay with them and give them the money I earn from my stories. Perhaps I will even write romantic novels if I have to. I hear they turn a higher profit. Somehow, I will earn their forgiveness. Yet, despite her remorse, she couldn’t help but feel liberated from this false society and its perverse way of auctioning women off to the highest bidder.
“The Duke of Burnrath!” the butler boomed. The thud of the cane now sounded more like a judge’s gavel.