Page 88 of Embracing the Earl (The St. Clairs 3)

“I was hoping to help introduce Lady Caroline into society,” Jeremy said. “I wanted thetonto see she was a family friend and had our support.”

Lady Bettina nodded nervously. “Most did, Your Grace, but a few took that as an indication she was... under... your protection.”

“What do you mean? Say it plainly, my lady,” Luke demanded.

“That the duke and others—you and Lord Merrick—are sharing... her favors.”

Rachel and Catherine gasped audibly. Rage poured through Luke. So this was what Caroline had hidden from him. That rumors flew declaring her the mistress of men in the St. Clair family. He couldn’t imagine the humiliation and hurt she’d experienced.

He gazed steadily at Lady Bettina. “You know it’s false, don’t you? That my brother and brother-in-law are faithful to their wives.”

“I do, Lord Mayfield. The love between them is genuine. I cannot ever see either man being unfaithful to his wife.” She hesitated. “You do have a certain reputation, though, my lord.”

“I’ve rid myself of my mistress. I haven’t looked at another woman since the Season began. Except for Lady Caroline,” he said. “I would never compromise her. I love her.”

Lady Bettina nodded. “Then the best thing you could do would be to announce your engagement. It would put an end to the rumors.”

“You really think so?” Lady Bethany asked. “I, for one, think the St. Clairs will be looked down upon for allowing Lord Mayfield to wed the little trollop.”

It took everything in Luke’s power not to strike the vile woman.

Lady Betsy finally found her voice. “You’re wrong, Bethany. I find Lady Caroline very sweet. And I went to her bookstore on Saturday. I don’t think thetonwill judge her as harshly as you claim. I’m done with you.”

“I am, too,” Lady Bettina declared. “We’ve followed you around like lost puppies and where has it gotten us? You’re an angry, vicious person, Bethany. Our friendship is over. Do not attempt to speak to either of us ever again or our cut direct will become public.”

The two women linked arms and marched from the room, leaving their friend looking unsure for the first time.

Luke said to the remaining B, “If you ever say another word about Lady Caroline, you will live to regret it.”

Lady Bethany had gone stark white, the gravity of her situation finally sinking in. “I understand,” she whispered. “If you’ll excuse me.” She left the room.

“At least we know what upset Caroline so,” Catherine said. “But where could she have gone?”

“I haven’t a clue where her staff lives,” Luke said. “If she’s left London, she would have had to tell Mr. Stinch since he manages both the bookstore and tearoom. And possibly Higgins, her solicitor.” He paused. “I plan to be at the bookstore before it opens tomorrow. I’ll find out where she’s gone—and bring her home. To us all.”

*

Caroline remained onthe floor, not trusting the bed. A woman, under Coswell’s watchful eye, had brought her a meal last night of cold chicken and stale bread. She’d forced it down, wanting to keep up her strength. Still, she was hungry this morning—and knew she wouldn’t be fed the rest of the day.

She’d been over every inch of the room, looking for a way out or something she could fashion into a weapon. It had proved fruitless. She still couldn’t reconcile the thought of Leland Netherby hating her so much that he would have this done to her—to have her sold to a stranger who would do unimaginable things to her. Tears formed in her eyes again and she angrily wiped them away. They did no good. She had to think of a way to escape before tonight’s auction.

The key sounded in the lock and she quickly rose to her feet. If it were only the woman, she would rush at her and knock her to the ground. Caroline fisted her hands, readying herself.

It was Coswell—but he wasn’t alone. He had two women with him and he pushed them into the room then brandished a knife about. She held her breath and backed against the wall as he entered. He spun the one with dark hair around and Caroline saw the woman’s hands bound in front of her. Coswell cut through the rope and pushed her aside. He freed the second woman, as well, younger than the first and dressed as a servant.

He glanced at Caroline, his eyes raking down her body. “Need any lessons taught, my lady?”

“No,” she said firmly, looking him in the eye. She was deathly afraid of this man but would do anything to prove otherwise.

“Too bad,” he said and then left the room, the lock turning once more.

She looked at the two women. “I am Lady Caroline Andrews,” she said simply.

The older one was dressed in a similar fashion to her. “I am Belinda Barrow, bastard daughter to a viscount who decided to sell me in order to pay his gambling debts to Netherby.”

Shock ran through Caroline. She wondered if her own father would have resorted to such measures had she not been in Boston.

“This is Emily,” Belinda continued. “My maid.”

---