Page 40 of Lusting for the Duke's Kiss
Hetty sank down with her heart hammering. She felt so sick that she could barely breathe. Her father looked outraged, his lips thinned, but he said nothing. Her mother looked as shocked and sickened as she felt.
She could feel Louis’s eyes on her, but she didn’t dare to look at him for fear of seeing confusion and revulsion in his face. That there might even be a shred of doubt about her, now, and that she had lied to him about her engagement and marriage.
“Many people told him that Miss Arnold was running around behind his back,” continued Mr Mitchell, without a pause. “There were sightings of her with other gentlemen. Once, she was observed to be in a passionate embrace at a public gathering.” He sighed heavily. “But the worst was when he was told that she had been seen leaving a different gentleman’s chamber in the middle of the night, at a house party …”
Hetty stifled a sob of pure rage. Her hands balled into fists. So, this was the tactic he had decided to take. To try to discredit her, smear her name in front of this court. That he had somehow been justified in deserting her.
It wasn’t bad enough, what he had done to her, the shame and misery he had unleashed upon her. Now, he was grinding in his heel. He was determined that she be utterly destroyed so that he could walk away from this looking like the long-suffering fiancé andhusband. So that he could smell of roses while she was crucified.
And there was another reason, as well, of course. The money. If he could prove that he had been justified in abandoning her, that he had no choice, then her dowry would remain with him.
She was simply amazed. It had never occurred to her that he might stoop to this level. That he might try to put the blame for all of this back on her by lying about what she had done and how she had behaved.
He was crafty, and he was cunning. He would be very well aware that the Ecclesiastical court took a far grimmer view of a woman’s infidelity than that of a man’s. That he could perhaps get away with his glaring infidelity to her, while all he needed to do was suggest hers, and she would be blamed for all of it.
And the worst of it was, she had to sit here and grit her teeth while he assassinated her character to the court. While he presented her as the whore of Babylon, a woman of insatiable sexual appetite, who had been unfaithful to him with not just one man, but several.
“My client felt like he was trapped inside the engagement,” continued Mr Mitchell, sighing heavily. “He wanted to believe the best of Miss Arnold and ignored the rumours. He was fully committed to making her his wife, despite her rumoured dalliances with other gentlemen.” He paused, his eyes appealing, as he gazed at the judges. “He knew Miss Marchand, his current mistress, during his engagement to Miss Arnold but swears they did not have a physicalrelationship during that time. However, he would often confide in her, his concerns, about Miss Arnold, and her impropriety. He started to fall in love with Miss Marchand but felt honour bound to marry Miss Arnold …”
Hetty’s chest was so tight that she could barely breathe. The solicitor was doing a superlative job of presenting Frank as the hard done by, long-suffering fiancé, who only turned to his mistress for comfort.
“These are very serious allegations, indeed,” said the bishop, looking appalled. “For as it says in the Proverbs: ‘a prostitute is a deep pit, and an adulteress is a narrow well.’” He paused, gazing at the solicitor. “Your client writes fluently about these rumours surrounding Miss Arnold prior to their marriage. But do you have any evidence that she did these things?”
The solicitor sighed again. “Unfortunately, because my client so desired to believe that they were not true, he did not investigate them as he should, and thus, has no proof of her infidelities.” He hesitated. “But they alarmed him enough that after they had exchanged their vows, he suddenly realised he could not go ahead with the marriage, that he must flee it. In his despair, he re-connected with Miss Marchand, who showed him what the love of a good woman was. He knew that he could never return to his wife, given her loose morals, for fear that he would always be played for a cuckold, and most likely never be confident that the children they might have would indeed be his. It is the only reason that he betrayed his marriage vows …”
Her father suddenly put his hand in the air. “May I speak, my lord?”
The bishop nodded. “Yes, Mr Arnold?”
“This is rather ridiculous, my lord,” he said, his voice full of ice. “Mr Blackmore seeks to blacken the name of my daughter and excuse his actions against her without a shred of proof that she was ever unfaithful to him, or behaved in the wanton manner suggested.” He glared at the solicitor.
“Your client is living in mortal sin with a woman who is not his wife. He is expecting a bastard child from this unholy union. His adultery is plain for the world to see. Whereas I can produce any number of people, who can swear that my daughter, Henrietta, always behaved appropriately during her betrothal. Where are these people who attest to the actions you insist she committed? I demand you produce them.”
“You have no authority here to demand any such thing, sir,” said the bishop, frowning deeply. “It is up to this court to carry out such investigations if it deems it is necessary. I ask you to sit down, sir, and let the court do its work.”
Her father turned bright red but did as he was instructed, muttering to himself. Hetty’s eyes filled with tears as she gazed at him. He was the best father in the world and would defend her like a tiger, but he was as helpless in this situation as she was. His hands were tied.
She glanced at Louis, who was still sitting in the gallery, listening to all this. He was pale and looked as appalled as she felt. Her heart lurched. What must he be thinking? But there was nothing he coulddo about any of this, as well. He might be a peer of the realm, but he was powerless here, too.
It was all slipping away from her. Only a short time ago, she had been quietly confident that perhaps the court would grant her the divorce. It had looked so promising. And now, it had been turned on its head, flipped over, and she was being presented as the one at fault, who had driven her husband away.
She would never get to marry him. She would never be a free woman.
And it was even worse than that. For not only could she never marry the man that she loved more than life itself, but Frank had made sure that she would always carry the shame of this. Word would get out about his wild accusations, the fact that he had accused her of being little better than a whore. He had tripled her disgrace if the court found in his favour. How could she ever return to her home and live again in society?
She took a deep, shuddering breath as she felt her whole world come crashing down around her. She was doomed. She should never have petitioned to this court. She should have run off to a convent as she had wanted to. She wished to God that her parents and Louis had never talked her out of it.
Maybe it would have been better if Louis had never approached her father, seeking her hand. For it had set them all on this course, now. It had given her hope, and there was none. None at all.
***
That night, in the small inn near the court, where her family had booked rooms for the evening, he came to her, sneaking into her room after dinner, wearing a dark cloak with a deep hood.
It had been a wearying day. The judges had been unable to agree on a verdict, in the end, and had instructed them to return the next morning. She knew that it was merely a stay of execution; that in the morning, they would find in Frank’s favour. Their eyes had been cold when they rested upon her. She could almost hear the accusations swimming around in their heads.
Whore. Jezebel. Strumpet. Adulteress.
“You should not be here,” she whispered desperately. “Anyone could have seen you. And it will only confirm that I am the whore that they are making me out to be …” her voice trailed away on a sob.
