A Scandalous Situation. Patricia Frances Rowell
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Street usually deals.”
“The runners are limited in whom they can question.”
“Exactly. Iantha has since received threatening and gloating letters couched in the vilest language. Thank God that she did not completely understand the words and thus brought them to me.”
Rob’s brows drew together as anger rose again in him. “What! Does she still receive them?”
“I’m not sure. I suspect she does and destroys them because they distress her mother and me. I have sent the ones that came into my hands to the runners, but they cannot trace them.”
It seemed the horror had no end. Now Rob understood the sadness in the lady’s eyes. Not only the sanctity of her body, but her security and, indeed, her whole future had been ripped from her just as the bud of her womanhood was opening. How had she endured it at all? What unbelievable strength! His desire to comfort her, to shield her, grew. He could not bring his family back, but he could protect this gallant, injured wraith.
“Have I your permission to speak to her?”
“Of course, if you still wish to.” Rosley shook his head sadly. “But she won’t have you.”
Iantha gazed at Lady Rosley in the dresser mirror while she lovingly arranged her hair. Iantha knew that her mother performed that service as a way of being near her. “But Mama…I can’t. You know I can’t. I could not stand it, and it wouldn’t be fair to Lord Duncan.”
“Please, Iantha. Do not refuse the offer without giving it a chance. I would so like to see you established in your own home. You are too fine a woman to dwindle into an aunt, and you know that—” Lady Rosley broke off and glanced at her youngest daughter, who sat on a footstool, leaning against Iantha.
“That I will never have another opportunity.” Iantha stroked her little sister’s hair. “I suspect that I will not have this opportunity, either, Mama. Papa is bound to have told him.”
“Told him what?” Valeria looked up at her mother. “What are you two talking about?”
“Nothing that would interest you, dearest. But look, you have a spot on your dress.” Lady Rosley patted the girl’s shoulder. “Go and ask Miss Harrington to help you change, and you and Nathaniel may sit in the drawing room with us before dinner and visit with Lord Duncan.”
Valeria skipped out of the room. When the door had closed behind the child, her mother directed her attention to Iantha. “Of course your father will tell Lord Duncan about your…situation. It would hardly be honorable not to do so.”
Iantha grimaced. “No, one cannot honorably deal in damaged goods without revealing their defects.”
“Oh, Iantha, darling!” Lady Rosley dropped to the footstool vacated by Valeria and clasped one of Iantha’s hands, gazing intently into her face. “Don’t say that! Please don’t. You are not d-damaged goods. You are not! You are good and sweet and…” Tears welled in her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Mama. That was unkind of me. I did not intend to wound you so.” Iantha tightened her jaw and willed her own tears to remain unshed. “But we both know how men feel about this…situation.”
Her mother patted her hand. “I do know, dear. But I have a very good feeling about Lord Duncan. He seems…different somehow. I do not believe he will fail you.”
“But I would fail him.” Iantha shook her head. “Even if I were willing to trap him into marriage with the excuse of the last two days—which I am not, Mama!—I would not be able to perform the duties of a wife. You know I could not.”
Lady Rosley sighed. “Iantha. What can I say to you? I do understand your hesitation. But, dear…” She paused for a moment, apparently choosing her words. “But, dear, the duties of a wife, as you called them, need not be unpleasant. In fact…” To Iantha’s astonishment, her mother’s face turned deep rose to the roots of her silver hair. “In fact, the marriage bed can be a great source of pleasure and comfort to…to both parties.” She gazed earnestly into her daughter’s face. “I would like for you have that comfort for yourself.”
What a great effort that admission had cost her reserved mother. Iantha smiled at her fondly. “Thank you, Mama. I will speak with him.”
In the unlikely event that I have that opportunity.
Rob sat in the drawing room listening to Thomas, resplendent in an elaborate cravat and a shockingly puce waistcoat, explain how it was that he had been sent down from Oxford until after Christmas. “It was a silly prank. I can’t think how I allowed myself to become involved.”
Rob nodded, suppressing a smile. How mature the young man sounded. Now. After the damage was done. “I myself found it discouragingly easy to become involved in silly pranks. Some sillier than others.” The smile crept up the corners of his mouth. “Some very silly, indeed. I’m afraid I accounted for a large number of my father’s gray hairs.”
“Well, yes, I suppose I have done my share for Papa. But I have apologized, and Papa says that my allowance will resume next quarter day, so that my pockets will not be quite to let when I go back.” The boy sighed.
“No doubt a mistake on my part,” drawled Lord Rosley. “I am, in all likelihood, funding more mischief.”
“Oh, no, Papa. I have promised not to get sent down again before summer. Honor of a Kethley. Besides…” The look the young assume when they believe they have been unfairly used invaded his face. “I have not done so nearly so often as John did.”
“God be praised.”
At Lord Rosley’s dry rejoinder, Rob’s ready laughter escaped him in a loud burst. “I see that rearing sons is a challenging undertaking.”
At that moment the ladies entered, and all three gentlemen got to their feet, Lord Rosley with some effort. He subsided gratefully into his chair as soon as his wife and daughter had been seated. A few steps behind them, the schoolroom party arrived under escort of Valeria’s governess. Rob came to his feet again and made a bow as Lord Rosley presented his youngest progeny.
“Your most obedient servant, Miss Valeria. Nathaniel.” Rob shook the boy’s hand and solemnly kissed the girl’s petite fingers, smiling at the ensuing blush. “Would you like to sit here?” He pulled a chair forward and placed it beside his own. Not to be outdone in honor, Nathaniel quickly drew his own seat near.
Rob studied the young lady perched demurely at his side, her eyes fixed shyly on the hands in her lap. Her honey-blond hair contrasted sharply with Laki’s long black curls, but the long thick lashes rested on her cheek just as his own little girl’s had done.
Rob missed his little daughter. How old would Laki have been by now? No need to calculate. He knew to the day. Only seven. The familiar lump rose in his throat. Five years was much too short a life.
While her mother conversed with Thomas and her father tried in vain to achieve a comfortable position for his afflicted foot, Iantha watched Lord Duncan quietly from her place across the room. First he engaged Nathaniel in a lively discussion of hunting. A very manly conversation, indeed.
One that Thomas could not resist joining, but his lordship gave the same grave attention to Nat’s opinion of Peel’s hounds as he did that of his big brother. Iantha smiled as her youngest brother swelled almost visibly with increasing importance. Lord Duncan certainly knew how to make a friend of him!
Then, by some means or other, he drew Valeria into the conversation. From her giggles and blushes and a few overheard words, Iantha deduced that the subject now had to do with prospective beaux. Even a few scornful comments from Nathaniel did not seem to dim the girl’s pleasure. Unmistakable signs of incipient hero-worship blossomed on both the youngsters’ faces. Yes, his lordship could definitely win children.
But she detected no sign that he felt any differently about damaged goods than any other man.
The dinner