Page 42 of Forgetting the Earl
“There’s more.” Emmie flushed, something she never did, which sent Honora’s stomach roiling. “Our discussion about the disparagement of Southwell and his injuries—” She bit her lip. “Well, your mother knew what was said, Honora. I don’t see how she could, but—” Emmie opened her hands before clutching them again into fists. “Your lover, the night of Lady Trent’s ball—”
“I had no lover that night save Gideon.”
Emmie’s cheeks pinked again. “—claims you mentioned to him how you meant to discard Southwell because of his inability to satisfy you.”
“How could anyone believe such nonsense? Can’t everyone see that Tarrington is behind this attack on my character because I refused the offer to become his mistress? These other ‘lovers’ are in league with Tarrington. They have to be. And as far as my conversation with you, Emmie, Loretta overheard us. About what I did to Tarrington. What you assumed I meant to do to Southwell.”
“That’s rather unfortunate. She’s probably told everyone who will listen.”
“I am resolved to call on Gideon this afternoon.” Honora paused as another wave of doubt filled her. Surely he wouldn’t believe Loretta over her. “He has been busy with estate business, and I didn’t want to bother him, but I need to make him aware of what’s happened.”
“You don’t know.” Emmie gave her a confused look. “Honora, he’s gone. Southwell. He’s left you. He’s no longer in town.”
“No. He wouldn’t leave London without telling me.” Honora didn’t even sound convincing to her own ears.
“Southwell has abandoned you to the wolves. As he did before. Just as I warned you he would do.”
“Where is he?” Honora demanded. “It isn’t as if he can conveniently join an expedition this time, not with his leg. And he hasn’t abandoned me, Emmie.” At least Honora didn’t really think he had.
Emmie shrugged. “It is my understanding he has fled to his country estate. Because of the”—she looked upward, almost as if she didn’t wish to say the word—“humiliation you’ve dealt him. At least, according to the gossips.”
Honora wobbled, ever so slightly. He really did believe the worst of her.
How could he?
“So let me understand, Emmie.” Honora started to pace back and forth. “The man I love has been convinced of my numerous affairs, including one I had with his best friend, Lord Montieth, and a gentleman who I was apparently indiscreet with in a carriage. After which I spent the night withhim. He believes that I am planning on discarding him and intend to tell everyone in London he is unable to bed me because of injuries he suffered previously. Which is ridiculous. I’m still sore.”
“At least”—Emmie looked chagrined—“according to gossip.”
Honora had never been more furious or hurt in her life. And that included what Tarrington had done to her when she’d been Miss Drevenport. “I love Gideon, Emmie.”
“Iknowthat.” Her cousin’s sharp features softened. “But doesherealize that? Did you tell him? Why would he believe these rumors without even talking to you?”
A vision of Gideon, standing naked before her, firelight illuminating the horror of the left side of his body, flashed before Honora’s eyes. The horrible, ruined lines of Gideon’s hip and thigh. The other women who’d found him repulsive. How he’d told her he had been expecting the same treatment as she’d dealt Tarrington. “Someone convinced him. I doubt it was Tarrington or Loretta.”
Emmie took her hand. “I’m so sorry, Honora. I had no idea Loretta overheard our conversation, else I would never have spoken. As much as I dislike Southwell, I would never hurt you in such a way. Please believe me.”
“I do.” Honora’s mind sifted through the last discussion she’d had with Loretta. “I’m certain Tarrington has been here.” Honora spun on her heel and walked rapidly back into the house. “Loretta had a visitor the day after Lady Trent’s ball. She rarely has callers. I thought it odd at the time. I want to know who it was.”
Honora stood in the foyer. “Edward,” she called out for the butler, who appeared magically as if he’d been hiding in the paneling of the wall, just waiting for her summons. “I have something to ask you and I would appreciate the truth.”
“Of course, madam.” His eyes flicked to Emmie, who stood, arms crossed, ready to do battle.
“The day after Lady Trent’s ball, Mrs. Culpepper was sitting in the drawing room, having tea but not by herself. Who came to call?”
“I’m not sure—”
“Edward,” Honora said pointedly. “Mrs. Culpepper doesn’t receive many visitors these days. Hardly anyone calls. There is no possible way you don’t know who visited her. And I’ll kindly remind you it is my house you preside over.”
His face reddened at the rebuke. “Lord Tarrington.”
Honora nodded. She’d assumed as much. Her and Gideon’s bumping into Tarrington at the museum hadn’t been accidental. He’d probably been planning on hurting Honora and Gideon since. So Tarrington had given Loretta, who’d likely cackled with malicious pleasure at how right she’d been about her daughter-in-law, the names of Honora’s so-called lovers. Loretta had probably told Tarrington about what she’d overheard right before Honora had left for Lady Trent’s ball.
Lady Trent.“That’s who he would believe.”
“Who?” Emmie shot her a confused look.
“Lady Trent. Montieth’s mother.” How had Honora not thought of her before? Gideon had said Lady Trent was like a mother to him. He’d mentioned their close relationship more than once. Loretta must have written to her. For all Honora knew, they’d been corresponding this entire time. Long enough for Loretta to spill her vitriol all over Lady Trent and convince her of Honora’s deceit.
