Sylvia blinked. “I beg your pardon—what did you just say?”
“On the night of the Mainwaring rout your cousin abducted me.” Lily waited a moment for it to sink in. “He tricked me—that note wasn’t from Rose at all—he drugged me, and he tied me up and imprisoned me under a seat in his coach.” Sylvia stared, her expression horrified, her mouth opening and shutting silently.
“Your cousin’s plan was to take me to Gretna Green and force a marriage on me—I presume for the sake of my inheritance. He must have learned about that from you.”
Something flickered in Sylvia’s eyes and Lily froze. She said slowly, “You knew he did, didn’t you? You helped him.”
Sylvia shook her head frantically. “I didn’t know, I promise you.” She gave a guilty grimace. “I might have told him about your inheritance—I don’t remember. But he could have learned it from anyone. After all, it was no secret when we were at school. But I did not help him. I had no idea what he was planning. He tricked me, just as he tricked you.”
Lily wasn’t convinced. “He knew about my reading difficulties.”
Sylvia hung her head. “Yes, that was me—but how was I to know what he would do with a tiny piece of information I innocently let drop? I told him all sorts of things about all sorts of people—he was interested in all my friends, and kept asking me questions, and . . . and I was flattered. Yes, what of it? He’s a handsome man and I’m a married woman, but not many people like to listen to my chatter. My husband certainly doesn’t. He calls me a silly gabble-tongue. But I’m sure Victor meant no harm.”
“He drugged me, Sylvia. He tied me up and gagged me—I almost suffocated—and he shoved me in a compartment under his carriage seat and kept me there for hours and hours. I thought I was going to die.”
There was a long silence. Sylvia’s eyes narrowed as she considered what Lily had told her. Then she tossed her head. “I don’t believe you. Victor is a gentleman; he would never treat a lady so.”
“But he did!”
“No. I might believe that he kidnapped you—he must have been utterly desperate, poor boy—but he wouldn’t do anything so, so brutal.” She made a distasteful gesture. “Or so sordid.”
“Well, he did. I’ll spare you some of the truly sordid aspects, but I’ll tell you this—he hit me across the face. Hard.”
Sylvia snorted. “Rubbish!”
“He did. Hard enough that the bruise was visible for days. My family kept me indoors for nearly a week after I got home, because of that bruise.”
Sylvia stamped her foot. “I don’t believe you! Why would you say such vile things—oh, of course.” Her mouth twisted spitefully. “You’re angry because I told you about your husband’s mistress.”
Lily struggled to control her temper. “I don’t believe my husband has a mistress. I think you’re mistaken, or else you made it up—I don’t care which. But your cousin did drug me, he did abduct me and lock me away in a horrid box and when I tried to escape, he did hit me. Hard.”
“You’re a horrid liar, Lily Rutherford, and I refuse to listen to any more of your lies.” Sylvia stormed off.
Lily was shaking a little when she rejoined the others. She hated arguments but she was glad she’d confronted Sylvia at last. She felt lighter for having spoken the truth and, strangely, for having unleashed a little bit of temper.
She still wasn’t convinced that Sylvia was as wholly innocent as she claimed, but she had been genuinely shocked—and upset—by Lily’s reports of Nixon’s brutality.
That was something. Sylvia’s cousin was an evil brute and she needed to know it.
She thought about what Sylvia had told her about Edward. A mistress? She didn’t believe it, but why would Sylvia say such a thing if she hadn’t heard a rumor? And where would such a rumor come from?
“Everything all right?” Rose asked.
“Fine.”
“You look a bit upset.”
Lily made a dismissive gesture. “Oh, it’s just Sylvia. She can be quite annoying at times.”
Rose laughed. “And you’re only just noticing?”
Lily smiled. Rose was right, Sylvia was not worth listening to. As for her stupid suggestion about Edward and a mistress, Lily would not even give it the dignity of consideration.
• • •
Lily attended a ball with Edward that night. She heard no sly innuendos, noticed no significant glances, heard no whispered on-dits concerning her husband or herself. She hated herself for even thinking about such things, and silently cursed Sylvia for planting the seeds of poison in her mind.
Recalling Emm’s advice—take your happiness where you find it—she put the horrid idea from her mind and set herself to enjoying the ball.
“You’re in a good mood tonight,” Edward said as he twirled her around the floor. He only ever danced the waltz with her. He rarely danced with anyone else—Rose and George and Emm if they were present, even Aunt Agatha, once—but he made it clear he was not looking for partners, that Lily was all he wanted.
He was a beautiful dancer too, and Lily knew she was the envy of many.
“I’m happy, that’s all,” she said.
“I’m enormously relieved.”
“Relieved?” It was an odd thing to say. She tilted her head and gave him a quizzical look.
He gave a hunted glance around the crowded room. “As long as you’re happy, I’m safe from being gutted with a rusty blade.” His eyes glinted with roguish humor.
“What?”
“It’s true. Your demure little niece threatened me with that, the day we became betrothed.”
“George did?” She spluttered with laughter. “She can be a bit outrageous, but I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”
“I’m not so sure. Your sister threatened me too.” He added darkly, “The innocent-looking ones are the worst.”
They finished the dance laughing. It was the supper dance, and Lily began to make her way to the supper room. He detained her with a hand on her
