Regency Betrayal: The Rake to Ruin Her / The Rake to Redeem Her. Julia Justiss
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to remain silent.
With a final warning that it was useless to turn mute now, as her character was already ruined, they ignored her and spent the rest of the transit speculating about how devastated Lady Denby and Mrs Ransleigh would be and how fast the scandalous news would spread.
While they chattered, Caro’s mind raced furiously. Should she ask Max Ransleigh to seek out Henshaw, drag him in so they might jointly accuse him? Was Henshaw still at Barton Abbey to be accused?
Trapped between the two dragons, she had no way of determining that. Should she try to explain immediately to Lady Denby, or wait until after she’d consulted with Mr Ransleigh?
She had only a short time to figure out what she wanted, while her whole life and future hinged on her making the right decision.
When she reached her rooms and her erstwhile ‘rescuers’ discovered neither her stepmother nor her sister was present, they finally stopped plaguing her and rushed off. Doubtless anxious to compete over who could convey the interesting news to the most people the fastest, Caro thought sardonically.
She hoped her stepmother would not be one of those so informed, vastly preferring to break the dismal story herself. In any event, Lady Denby’s absence gave her the opportunity to summon Dulcie and change before the tattered evidence of the disaster could further upset her stepmother. Reassuring her maid, who gasped in alarm upon seeing her in the ruined gown, that she was quite unharmed and would explain later, Caro sent her off to dispose of the garment.
Watching the girl carry out the shreds, Caro smiled grimly. It certainly wasn’t the way she would have chosen to do it, but the escapade in the glasshouse had effectively ruined her. At least now she’d be able to purchase gowns that didn’t make her wince when she saw her image in a mirror. With that heartening thought, she scrawled a note asking Mr Ransleigh to meet her in Lady Denby’s sitting room at his earliest convenience.
As she waited for her stepmother to return, she tried to corral the thoughts galloping about in her mind like colts set loose in a spring meadow. How could she turn Henshaw’s despicable conduct to best advantage, managing the scandal so she would be able to return to Denby Lodge and her horses, while leaving Mr Ransleigh’s good name unblemished?
Only one thought truly dismayed her: that having heard Lady Melross testify that she’d received a note bidding her come to the conservatory, Max might think, in blatant disregard of his wishes, she had arranged for Lady Melross to find them, trapping him with treachery into compromising her after persuasion had failed.
Trapping herself?
How to avoid that fate? Too unsettled to remain seated, she paced the room. In the aftermath of Henshaw’s unexpected attack, her still-jangled nerves were hampering her ability to think clearly. The bald truth was she’d underestimated the man, dismissed him as a self-indulgent weakling she could easily handle.
It shook her to the core to admit that, had Max Ransleigh not rushed to her rescue, she probably could not have successfully resisted Henshaw.
How understanding Max had been, lending her his warmth and strength as she had struggled to compose herself. Bringing her back from the horror of what might have been to a reassuring normalcy with his gentle teasing. Renewed gratitude suffused her.
They must find some way out of this conundrum. She refused to repay his generosity by trapping him in a marriage neither of them wanted.
But when she recalled his parting words, a deep sense of unease filled her.
‘I’ll make everything right,’ he’d said. Initially, she’d thought he meant to track down Henshaw and force him to confess his guilt. However, if Henshaw had already scuttled away from Barton Abbey, leaving Max bearing the blame for her disgrace, Ransleigh’s sense of honour might very well force him into making her an offer.
And that wouldn’t do at all. For one, he’d told her quite plainly he had no wish to marry and she could think of few things worse than being shackled to an uninterested husband. The image of her cousin Elizabeth came forcefully to mind.
Nor did she want to cobble her future to a man with whom she had little in common, whose wit engaged her but who agitated and discomforted her every time she was near him, filling her with powerful desires she had no idea how to manage.
Before she could analyse the matter any further, a rapid patter of footsteps in the hallway and the buzz of raised voices announced the imminent return of her stepmother.
Praying Lady Melross had not accompanied her, Caro braced herself for the onslaught.
A moment later, the door flew open and Lady Denby burst into the room, Eugenia at her elbow. ‘Is it true?’ her stepsister demanded. ‘Did Mr Ransleigh truly … debauch you in the conservatory, as Lady Melross claims?’
‘He did not.’
‘Oh, thank heavens!’ Lady Denby exclaimed. ‘That dreadful woman! I knew it had to be naught but a malicious hum!’
‘There was an … altercation,’ Caro allowed. ‘But events did not unfold as Lady Melross supposed.’
‘Surely she didn’t find you wrapped in Mr Ransleigh’s arms, your gown in disarray, your bodice torn?’ Eugenia asked.
‘My gown had been damaged, but it was not—’
‘Oh, no!’ Eugenia interrupted with a wail. ‘Then you are ruined. Indeed, we are both ruined! I shall never have my Season in London now!’ Clapping a hand to her mouth, she burst into tears and rushed into her adjoining room, slamming the door behind her.
Lady Denby stood pale-faced and trembling, tears tracking down her own cheeks as she looked at Caro reproachfully. ‘Oh, Caro,’ she said faintly, ‘how could you? Even if you had no concern about your own future, how could you jeopardise Eugenia’s?’
‘Please, ma’am, sit and let me explain. Truly, it is not as bad as you think. I’m certain that virtually nothing the detestable Lady Melross told you is accurate.’
Lady Denby allowed herself to be shown to a seat and accepted a glass of sherry, which she sipped while Caro related what had actually transpired. When she got to the part about how Mr Ransleigh’s timely arrival had prevented Henshaw from overpowering her, Lady Denby cried out and leapt to her feet, wrapping Caro in her arms.
‘Oh, my poor dear, how awful for you! Bless Mr Ransleigh for having the courage to intervene.’
‘I owe him a great debt,’ Caro agreed, settling her stepmother back in her chair. ‘Which is why we need to somehow stop Lady Melross from circulating the falsehood that he compromised me. I can hardly repay Mr Ransleigh’s gallantry by forcing him to offer for me, a girl he hardly knows. That would not be fair, would it?’
‘It doesn’t seem right,’ Lady Denby admitted. ‘But if you don’t marry someone … how are we to salvage anything? And my dear, the truth is, this scandal could ruin Eugenia’s Season as well!’
‘Surely not! She’s not even a Denby! Once Lady Gilford and Mrs Ransleigh learn the truth, I’m certain they will enlist their friends to ensure my difficulties do not reflect badly on my stepsister.’
That hope seemed to reassure Lady Denby, for she nodded. ‘Yes, perhaps you are right. Grace and Jane would think it monstrous for poor Eugenia to suffer for Henshaw’s villainy. But how are we to salvage your position, my dear?’
‘I don’t know yet,’ Caro evaded, guiltily aware that she had no desire to ‘salvage’ it. ‘Will you allow me to discuss this alone with Mr Ransleigh first, before he speaks with you? I expect him at any moment.’
‘Very well,’ Lady Denby agreed with a sigh. ‘It’s all so very distressing! I must go and comfort Eugenia.’
After giving her a final hug, Lady Denby walked out. Knowing that she would be meeting Max Ransleigh again any moment set every nerve on edge.
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