Page 72 of When the Viscount Seduces
“I understand. I’m only asking for you to step aside, to free him to wed me as he must.”
Gwen could tell him there was no chance with her, that she would marry Markwith. The joy she’d felt a short while ago in his arms melted away like snow beneath the sun. Only, there was no sun here. No brightness at all. Just a deep and lingering sadness for the love Gwen couldn’t have.
“If I can, I will advocate for you to him. I may not have that chance, though.”
Miss Worsley nodded. “I appreciate anything you can do to aid my cause.” She touched her abdomen, and Gwen could just make out the curve of her belly as her gown briefly went taut. “Our cause,” Miss Worsley amended with a small smile.
A sob rose in Gwen’s throat. Agony and jealousy and despair shot through her. She bit the inside of her lip as another chill made her body quiver.
“It is rather cold,” Gwen said, her voice sounding hollow. “You must go back inside.” While Gwen was eager to go back in too, she didn’t want to enter the ballroom with the mother of Lazarus’s child.
“I will. Good evening.” Miss Worsley turned, her gown swirling about her ankles as she made her way into the ballroom.
Gwen looked about for another door. There was one farther down—toward the refreshments away from the dancing. As she walked briskly toward the door, she didn’t know what was worse: returning to the ballroom to face the rumors churning about her and Lazarus, or returning to the ballroom knowing the man she loved had fathered a child with someone else. Either way, she would have to smile and laugh, and make hideous chitchat.
Once inside, she looked for her mother. There was no way Gwen was staying.
She located her mother, who saw her at the same moment. Her features flickered with both surprise and concern, and she immediately made her way toward Gwen.
Gwen did not move from the edge of the ballroom, however. That would bring her into contact with too many people. Gwen couldn’t bear their judgmental stares.
“There you are,” Min said, arriving at Gwen’s side with Ellis. “Who was that woman, and what did she want?”
Gwen’s mother was bearing down on her. “I can’t explain now. We’ll meet at your house tomorrow afternoon. I must go.”
Both Min and Ellis looked alarmed. “We love you,” Min said. “Everything will be all right.” They smiled and exchanged a brief greeting with Gwen’s mother before departing.
“Mama, I am unwell.” Indeed, Gwen still felt chilled to the bone. And horribly queasy. “I need to go home.”
“I can see you are pale,” her mother said with concern. “Let us go. I was going to suggest we leave anyway. The rumorabout you and Somerton has overtaken the ball. I’d no idea it would spread like that.” She looped her arm through Gwen’s and steered her toward the nearest doorway to exit the ballroom. “I’m so sorry, my dearest. But everything will be all right.”
Her mother’s assurances and the echo of her friend’s words did nothing to ease Gwen’s turmoil. For one thing was absolutely certain: everything wouldnotbe all right.
After a mostly sleepless night, Lazarus ought to have dragged himself to church where he could have prayed for his debauched soul. Instead, he’d prayed for an impossibly quick return of Shefford’s man.
In the early afternoon, his butler announced the arrival of Mrs. Worsley. Lazarus’s insides turned to mush. He’d written to her yesterday, but he hadn’t received a response. And now she’d come in person.
“Show her to the drawing room,” Lazarus managed as he stood from his favorite chair in his study and paced about the room for a few minutes. Had she come to agree to his request for more time? He’d been purposely vague in the missive, saying only that he needed more time to respond and that he wasn’t sure he believed what her daughter had disclosed to him.
Bracing himself, he strode upstairs to the drawing room. He paused at the threshold and saw that Mrs. Worsley stood in front of the windows that overlooked the street below. She was petite and curvaceous, with a generous bosom. Her hair was the same reddish blonde as her daughter’s, but her features were harsher, her nose longer.
“You’ve an excellent situation here in Mayfair,” she noted with a smile. “Your house is splendid. My Melissa will be anexcellent hostess here.” She spoke confidently and, if he were honest, almost arrogantly.
“Thank you, Mrs. Worsley. May I presume you’ve come in response to my note?” He didn’t invite her to sit. He hoped she wouldn’t be staying very long.
“Indeed, I have, and I must decline your request. You must understand there can be no delay in your marriage. The ceremony must take place with due haste. This week, in fact.”
“There must be a delay,” Lazarus said, working to keep a tight grip on his patience. “I am not the father of your daughter’s unborn child, and I will prove it.”
Mrs. Worsley appeared indignant. “Of course you are.”
“We were never together at the fox-hunting party. I’m sorry to say, but she has confused me with someone else.” That was the politest he could think to say that Miss Worsley had fabricated his involvement.
Mrs. Worsley exhaled, and her cheeks flushed. “She has not confused you. I don’t understand your insistence that you weren’t together. My daughter is not mistaken. She is lovely and beautiful. She will be a wonderful viscountess for you. Furthermore, you need to wed. If you do not marry Melissa, your reputation will be ruined. Already, it is stained because you’ve apparently been carrying on with another unmarried young lady. If your marriage to Melissa weren’t necessary, I doubt I would support you as her groom.”
“That gossip isn’t true,” he growled. At least it hadn’t been until yesterday. Did his previous kisses with Gwen at the salon and the tutoring session count?
“I suppose I’m relieved to hear that. I would prefer my daughter marry someone without the reputation of anabsoluteblackguard.”
