Lily, who had been about to confront Sylvia and inform her that her cousin was every bit as big a villain as Cal had suspected—and more—subsided.
She examined Sylvia’s face as she handed Lily a bowl of ice cream and dug happily in herself. There was no shadow of guilt or even self-consciousness in her eyes. Surely if she’d known or suspected anything about the abduction, it would show.
In any case, why would Sylvia conspire with her cousin to commit such a dreadful act? There was no benefit to her in it that Lily could see.
Lily didn’t particularly like Sylvia, but she’d never been unkind to her. Quite the contrary.
No, she decided as she ate her ice cream. Sylvia had been deceived by her cousin, just as Lily had.
• • •
Several days later, Aunt Agatha stripped off her gloves and directed an accusing look at Lily, who had been summoned with the rest of the family—the female members. Cal was out. “The rumors are proliferating! They should be abating by now—you sent out those thank-you notes, did you, gel?”
“Yes, of course.” Lily hadn’t written them herself, of course; Rose had written them for her—a note for everyone who’d sent something to Lily; George had addressed them and Lily had sealed them.
“And we’ve told quite a few people that it was only a severe cold, not the influenza as first feared,” Rose said.
“I included Lily in my acceptance for us all at the Peplowe Ball next week,” Emm said. “The bruising will have faded completely by then, and everyone will see that she hasn’t eloped and is her usual sweet self.”
“Show me.” Aunt Agatha raised her lorgnette with an imperious gesture, and Lily presented the offending cheek for her scrutiny. The old lady gave a grudging nod, then glared around the room, a tigress deprived of prey. “Then why are the rumors getting worse?”
Emm frowned. “Why, what are people saying?”
“A muddle of two stories—one that Lily ran off with a Mr. Nixon on the night of the Mainwaring rout—to Gretna or Paris, the versions differ. The other—and far more serious in my view—is that she eloped with Galbraith, who seduced her, then dumped her.”
“But he didn’t!” Lily exclaimed indignantly.
“Be quiet, gel! You are ruined! Whether he seduced you or not is immaterial.”
“How can the truth be immaterial?” Lily began.
The old lady snorted. “And there you show your youth and ignorance, gel. It’s what society believes that counts.”
“That stinks,” George said.
Aunt Agatha gave her a pained look. “Must you use such a vulgar expression, Georgiana? And refrain from commenting on what you don’t understand. A gel raised in a barnyard can have no idea of how polite society operates.”
George bristled, and Emm intervened before an argument could start, saying, “Why do you say the second rumor is more serious, Aunt Agatha? I would have thought both stories were equally damaging to Lily’s reputation.”
“It is the source of the rumor that matters, Emmaline. The elopement story is being circulated by an inferior class of people—people on the fringe of the ton—aspirants, mushrooms, hangers-on.” She made a distasteful gesture, as if dusting cobwebs off her fingers. “The Galbraith seduction-and-abandonment story is, however, on the lips of la crème de la crème—my own circle, in other words—the highest in the land.” She eyed them accusingly. “And that is far more damaging.”
“Who is spreading it?” Rose demanded.
“I have not yet tracked the rumor to its source. Nobody is willing to repeat it to my face.”
“But it’s not fair!” Lily was almost in tears. “Mr. Galbraith rescued me. He was a true gentleman in every way.”
Aunt Agatha raised her lorgnette. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Well, his reputation will be ruined too. And it’s not fair.”
“Pfft! Don’t be so naïve!” Aunt Agatha said. “His reputation may be a little tarnished, but it will do him no harm in the long run. A rakish reputation is expected of a young man, and one who is handsome and also rich—well, society will forgive a few peccadilloes soon enough.”
“Peccadilloes?” George began. “That’s outrageous. If he did seduce Lily and dump—”
“But he didn’t!” Lily almost shouted.
Aunt Agatha sighed. “You really are simple, aren’t you, gel? Have you understood nothing I’ve said so far?”
“I understand,” Lily began. “But why can’t we track down the source of the rumor and tell them to stop telling lies?”
Aunt Agatha rolled her eyes. “As well try to hold back the Thames with your hands. No, you foolish child, there is only one way out of this; we must announce your betrothal.”
Lily’s jaw dropped. “Betrothal? Who to?”
“To whom, child—have you no grammar? To Galbraith, of course, who else?”
There was a short, shocked silence, then a cacophony of objections. “That’s ridiculous. Lily barely knows the man,” Emm said.
“Lily is innocent! Why should she be punished by being forced into a loveless marriage—” Rose began.
“Nor should her rescuer,” George added.
“—simply because an evil man abducted her?” Rose finished.
“A man forced into an unwanted marriage is bound to resent his wife, whether she does the forcing or not,” George said. Her parents had been forced into marriage. It had been disastrous for all concerned.
Aunt Agatha gave what in a less dignified person might have been called a shrug. “Life isn’t fair. But it’s nonsense to suggest anyone is being punished. Galbraith is a good match. He’ll inherit his grandfather’s title in a few years, and the estate is extensive.”
“She doesn’t need to marry for money or a title,” George argued. “She already has a title, and when she turns one-and-twenty, she’ll inherit a fortune—we all will.”
“Which
