Page 82 of To Resist a Scandalous Rogue
Finlay cleared his throat. “I don’t understand. I have not settled my end of the bargain we arranged.”
“You daft man, do you not see there is no bargain any longer?”
As he tried to make sense of her words, he discreetly surveyed the room. Miss Eddington snuck glances at them over her fan from where she stood next to her mother, but he was certain she could not hear their conversation. Cutting his gaze to the right, he spied Townsend in discussion with several party members.
Dropping his voice, he asked, “Explain why matters have changed.”
“She was being blackmailed.”
“Damn!” He pounded a fist into his hand. “I knew something was not right. By whom?”
Flora angled her chin in his direction. “The Townsends gave her an ultimatum that she either give them two hundred pounds as payment for the wedding band she was forced to sell when she left India, or they would have her arrested for theft.”
Anger erupted under his skin. “But I would have given her the funds. Why didn’t she tell me?”
“She wanted you to hate her, Firthwell. The Townsends knew about your affair. She warned you she would be a liability for your campaign. If word spread of your affair, your political aspirations would be ruined. If you hated her, you wouldn’t wonder if you two could have more than a passing liaison. She was trying to save you…from yourself and your damn noble sensibilities.”
The words hit him like a punch to the gut.
Charlotte had tried to save him and his budding political career? It seemed like the sort of ridiculous thing she would think to do in the name of honor and friendship. Here, he thought he could save her, and she was trying to save him…from himself.
“Why would she turn herself in? She should have allowed us to draft a plan to ensure her safety and quick exoneration.”
“She was adamant this was how it had to be. She’s tired of running. She’s tired of fearing the Townsends would reappear at any moment to harass her and dredge up painful memories. She didn’t want to make anyone else vulnerable to blackmail.” Flora crossed her arms. “Charlotte hoped that by confronting them, alone and without friends they could use against her and she against them, and challenge their ridiculous charges, she could employ a strong defense. She was optimistic that once she provided testimony to explain what occurred after her husband died, a magistrate would dismiss the charges.”
Finlay snorted. “She had to have known how naive that was.”
“I told her as much. But she wanted to fight. She wanted to have a voice, and this was how she felt she could do that.”
“Chances are high Townsend has a magistrate in his pocket. Or the warden at Newgate.” Finlay ran a hand down his face, glancing out the window to where the sun was dipping below the trees in the square. “If we don’t get her out of there before the end of the day, they may keep her for the weekend.”
Flora stood, pushing a curl impatiently from her cheek. “As soon as I find Niall, I’ll ask him to send word to our solicitor. Hopefully he can meet us at the prison.”
“Excellent.” He rose. “I’ll meet you there, as well.”
She opened her mouth and shut it with a snap.
He scowled. “It’s not like you to censor yourself.”
“Very well. Do you think it wise for you to go? If you’re seen”—Flora whistled—“it could ruin everything.”
He rubbed the back of his neck as the potential scenario played out in his mind. Various newspaper headlines shouted out at him, each a crippling blow to his public approval.
He could always let Inverray and Flora handle the situation. The man was a bloody marquess, with powerful connections most men only daydreamed of. The Campbells were her employers, after all.
No.To the depths of his soul, Finlay knew he could not idly sip bitter lemonade and engage in trifling banter while Charlotte was confined in such a terrible place. But if he chose to save her, he would be all but admitting his attachment to her. Why would the patron of a foundling home rescue one of its teachers from Newgate for theft? If word got out of his actions, it would spread faster than fire over alcohol-doused vellum.
He had wanted to create a new future for himself built by his own two hands and not dependent upon his birth, title, or family name. Those ties were fraudulent anyway, but a seat in Commons could not be stripped from him if his bastard birth were revealed.
Was he willing to sacrifice that future for Charlotte?
He thought of Alethea’s words about happiness. About overcoming the unhappy circumstances of their births. And such thoughts made him think of his father. Finlay now knew the earl had been unhappy because he was in love with another woman—Alethea’s and his true mother. But rather than call off his wedding, the earl had married the wrong woman and destroyed four lives in the process.
Was he destined to make the same mistake? His gaze fell on the young woman watching them from across the room. When she met his eyes, she smiled sweetly.
A political marriage to Miss Eddington would ensure him the Weobley seat. If the thought left him numb now, how would such amarriageleave him? How would he feel in five years? Or ten? Would he always remember Charlotte and wonder what could have been?
Would regret eventually lead him to engage in the same sort of behavior that resulted in his sister’s and his scandalous births? For a striking, uncomfortable moment, Finlay understood why his father had acted the way he had.
