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Francis was acutely embarrassed, but he said, "All the more reason to marry, I would think."

"Oh, no. I wanted to deny it, to pretend that it had never happened. And in addition, you know, I was sure that the world would laugh at me for marrying a younger, poorer commoner. In fact, they very likely will, but now it doesn't seem quite so terrible."

Francis was receiving revelations about some matters, but most of the events that had turned his life upside down were still as clear as a mud-splattered window.

"If this was the state of affairs, Mother, why did Ferncliff try to extort ten thousand pounds from you?"

"What?" asked Ferncliff.

His mother's eyes shifted between the two men. "He didn't."

"It was all lies? Good God, Mother. Why?"

"Yes indeed, Cordelia," Ferncliff said sternly. "Why?"

She held on to Ferncliff's hand but addressed Francis. "I am truly very sorry. You see, dearest, in my first panic over my weakness I just wanted Charles gone, so I would have no reminder of my frailty and no more temptations. I advised the Shipleys to dismiss him. But he wrote to me, again and again. He would not give up. It was driving me to distraction! When he finally wrote to you, I had to think of a reason. That was all I could dream up at the time."

"Why on earth could you not tell me the truth?"

"I thought you would despise me for my wickedness."

"Mother..."

She eyed him with a much more familiar look. "Well? What would you have thought?"

He sighed. "I would have been shocked," he admitted.

"When you turned up demanding explanations, I couldn't think. I came up with that ridiculous story, and matters grew worse immediately. When you said you would confront Charles, I was in a panic. I couldn't let you meet."

Ferncliff spoke up. "So you wrote to warn me. Your actions deserve censure, but so do mine. I wrote that letter deliberately to push you into honesty. I hoped you would confess all to your son. It was my opinion that the problem would have been solved." He looked at Francis. "Would it, my lord?"

"Of course. I would have checked your background, but if you are the poor but trusty fellow you make out to be, I would have had no strong objection."

"Oh, don't!" cried Cordelia. "You make me feel so much more the wicked fool. From that moment, things became worse and worse. You were pursuing Charles, and poor Charles was bombarding me with angry letters, and then I realized that all this was interrupting your courtship of Anne...."

She gave a deep sigh. "Then you turned up with another bride, and one I could not easily approve of. When I came to understand that in some way my foolishness had brought this about, I felt ready to
die.
Everything was being destroyed and it was all my fault. But still I lacked the courage. I lacked the courage to tell Charles of the wicked lies I had told about him. I shivered at the thought of telling you about my improper behavior and all the other lies I had told you afterward. Each day made it worse!"

"'Oh what a tangled web we weave,'" quoted Arabella, "'when first we practice to deceive.'"

Cordelia glared at her sister. "Do be quiet!" She looked up at Francis. "I have finally come to my senses. I hope it is not too late to mend some of the damage I have caused."

"So do I," said Francis, and rose to his feet. "I have to confess that your behavior over this has left much to be desired, Mother, but it's not my place to berate you. I'll leave that to your future husband." He shook his head. "Judging from his besotted expression, you'll get off scot-free. I doubt I will be so lucky with my spouse."

"Oh, dear. Have my affairs tangled yours very badly, dearest?"

Francis smiled ruefully. "Most of it we've done to ourselves, but Mr. Ferncliff has created a few more knots, particularly with a tendency to call both you and Serena Lady Middlethorpe."

"You cannot have thought...!"

"Can I not?"

"Oh, dear. I am sorry."

"You are forgiven. After all, I have to remember that if none of this had happened, I would not have met Serena. And that would have been a shame." He raised a brow at Arabella. "Why exactly are you here, dear aunt? Come to see justice done or to gloat over human failure?"

"Don't sneer at me. I'm the only innocent party here. I came to make sure she didn't turn chicken at the last moment. What a tale of foolishness. If you're at outs with Serena, though, you had best go and make it up with her. She deserves better than you, but she'll doubtless make do, as most women have to."

"That is my intent."

"And I warn you, I intend to make it clear that she can always have a home with me, so don't think you can bully her by threatening poverty. And if you think to deprive her of her child..."

Francis threw up a hand. "Peace! I would never dream of such a thing. All I want to do is love her and cherish her."

Arabella harrumphed. "So I should hope. By the way," she said when he was already at the door, "Maud had an interesting tidbit to impart over dinner tonight. Apparently, she knew Serena's mother when they were girls. They lived close by in Sussex. Said Hester had those slanty eyes and a fair bit of Serena's beauty. But no money, which was how she ended up married to Allbright."

"So? I am in some urgency."

"Thing is that Hester had been in love with someone else. A doctor's son, I think. The point is that when Maud set eyes on Serena, she recognized that man's hair color and something else about the features. She's as sure as one can be that Serena ain't an Allbright at all. Given her brothers, I thought it might be good news."

Francis laughed. "Given her brothers, it certainly isn't anything to be ashamed of." He glanced back at his mother and Ferncliff, who were holding hands and murmuring to one another. He shook his head. "My family carries strange enough blood without mixing that lot with it. Are you going to stay and play chaperon?"

Arabella rose. "God forbid! Sickening sight. And I don't suppose you want me, either. Maud sent us here in her two damn sedan chairs, but at least it means I've independent transport to take me back."

Francis saw his aunt into the lacquered, gilded box and watched as she was carried off by the two chairman. A dying profession, that. He looked at the other men, standing by the other vehicle. "It could be a while." He tossed them a crown. "Have something to keep you warm, and if Lady Middlethorpe doesn't appear within the hour, you have my permission to go home."

Then he set off to walk to Hertford Street, wondering just what he would have to do to mend his marriage.

Chapter 21

Serena had arrived home and run up to her room to weep. Once there, though, she found she couldn't. She flung off her cloak, tore off her bonnet, and paced. When her maid came to attend her, she snarled at the woman to go away.

It slowly dawned on her that she couldn't weep because she wasn't so much miserable as she was in a royal rage.

How dare he!

What cause had she ever given Francis Haile to doubt her fidelity? A night in the Posts' farm came to niggle at her conscience, but she chased it away. She hadn't been married to anyone then.

Since her marriage, she hadn't so much as looked at another man. It was his Roguish friends who insisted on flirting with any woman who crossed their path.

A simpering china shepherdess caught her eye. She picked it up and smashed it. That's what she'd like to do to Francis Hade's thick head!

No, all she'd done since their wedding day was to be sweet, kind, and forgiving, and to work and work to make something of their marriage. When did he think she'd had
time,
damn him, to commit adultery?

The shepherd lad with his pipes went to join his shepherdess.

The portfolio caught her eye. She ripped open the ribbons and spilled the pictures on the floor. Horrible, horrible things. Her own stupid girlish face simpered out from them, and though they didn't show reality, they showed truth. She
had
submitted. She'd done every damn thing she'd been told to.

Why the devil hadn't she murdered Matthew Riverton? There must be ways.

Why hadn't she run off to Harriet Wilson and become an honest whore?

But no, she had wept and wailed, but she'd sucked in the lies about duty and obedience to a husband, and had been properly submissive....

She picked up one picture of her smiling as two men groped at her and began to tear it into tiny pieces.

Adultery! She didn't even
like
what men did to women.

A scratch on the door brought Dibbert. He looked around and his eyes bulged. "Go away!" Serena shrieked, and hurled the handful of scraps. They traveled a few feet and then fluttered gaily through the air.

* * *

Dibbert tottered down the stairs wondering where on earth Lord Middlethorpe or the dowager was. Where was someone able to take command of the situation? Had the poor mistress lost her wits entirely?

There was a rap on the door and he hurried to open it. He immediately recognized the Marquess of Arden, one of the master's friends. "I am afraid they are not at home, my lord."

"Lady Middlethorpe isn't here?" the marquess asked with quick concern. Something on Dibbert's face must have given the truth away, for the marquess relaxed and walked forward.

Blocking the way of a marquess who was also a friend of the family was not possible, and so Dibbert closed the door on the night air and hoped Lord Arden could offer help.

"She don't want to see anyone, I assume," said the marquess. "But Lord Middlethorpe asked me to come and look after her."

"I am afraid she is a little upset, milord."

"Having the vapors?"

"Not quite."

"Just weeping?"

Dibbert cleared his throat. "There have been a number of crashes, milord. When I went up to investigate, her ladyship appeared to be tearing up some papers. She... she screamed at me."

The marquess laughed. "Like that, is it?"

Dibbert could not see anything amusing in the situation. "I do hope she will soon recover, milord."

"Oh, I would think so. Let's hope Lord Middlethorpe soon returns home."

"Oh, yes, indeed." There was a distant but distinct tinkle of broken glass. Dibbert wrung his hands. "Do you know if he will be long, milord?"

"Not long at all if I'm any judge." Still looking amused, Lord Arden announced, "I don't think there's any point in me staying here. My advice is to leave Lady Middlethorpe alone unless she rings."

Dibbert saw the marquess leave with dismay. It was all very well for Lord Arden to dismiss the matter, but what if her ladyship was even now doing herself harm?

* * *

Lucien walked home and found his wife dining off a tray in her boudoir. He came upon Beth eating with one hand and holding a book in the other. He grinned at the endearing image of his wonderful bluestocking.

She looked up and smiled. "Now tell me, what adventure have you been up to?"

"How did you guess?" He came over and picked up an untouched chop from her plate and began to nibble at it.

Beth put down her book and fork. "One," she said, "you went to Nicholas's. Two, you sent a note saying that you had some business to attend to, and in Town that rarely means estate matters. Three, you have a certain glitter to you."

"Do I? I'm thinking of anger."

"Why is that so pleasant?"

He considered her. "Beth, we've had words, but you've never really raged at me or fate, though you've had reason enough. Have you never wanted to?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. It seems so unproductive."

"But the hot intimacy we're going to indulge in at any moment will be unproductive, too, since you are pregnant. Will that make it less enjoyable?"

A warm flush rose in Beth's cheeks. "No, but that's different."

"How so?"

"It's pleasant, productive or not. Temper isn't."

"Isn't it?" He pulled her up.

"Lucien, are you angry?"

"Not in the least." He slid one of her sleeves slightly off her shoulder and nipped at her skin there.