Even Mr. Higginbotham was scandalized now. A few minutes earlier, when she'd asked him where to find the painting, he'd been sputtering with indignation. From this day forward, Sean would be shunned by society, and that meant she could never see him again without ruining her family. That seemed the only thing that mattered. She didn't know yet whether her picture had been accepted for the Summer Exhibition, but she couldn't bring herself to care.
"Corinna?"
Hearing footsteps behind her, she turned to see Griffin enter the room, holding a glass of liquor the color of raw sienna pigment.
"What are you doing in here all alone?" He came to a stop before her, his gaze drifting up to the painting over her head. "Isn't that the portrait you did of Lord Lincolnshire?" When she didn't answer, he looked back down to her. "I thought you submitted it for the Summer Exhibition."
"Obviously I didn't. I submitted something else."
"Really?" Sipping, he looked curious. "What?"
A picture of the man she loved, the man she'd lost. That thought brought a flood of pain. As she couldn't tell her brother she loved Sean, instead she lashed out at him. "Why should you care what I submitted? All you're concerned with is getting me married off!"
"That's not true, Corinna. All I'm concerned with is your happiness. I want to see you happy."
He looked hurt, and that made her hurt even more. "Well, you have an odd way of showing it," she cried, tears flooding her eyes.
She couldn't take this anymore. Not any of it.
Pushing past him, she ran from the room and out into the entrance hall. The grand, pillared area was crowded with people dressed in black—people gossiping—people drinking up the contents of Lord Lincolnshire's liquor cabinet while vilifying the man she loved.
Their faces blurred as she headed for the front door, her brother at her heels.
"GRIFFIN!" RACHAEL said as he shoved a glass at her. "Where are you going?"
"After my sister!" Having passed Rachael already, he wove through the mass of guests. "I'm going home," he called back.
Rachael watched him follow Corinna at a run, then just stood there for a moment, feeling a bit dazed. She raised the glass to her lips and took a sip, hoping whatever was in it would be bracing.
Brandy. It burned a path down her throat and felt warm in her stomach.
She sipped again.
Juliana walked up. "Where did Griffin go off to?"
"He went after Corinna. I believe he was concerned for her well-being. He seems more responsible than I remember."
Her cousin smiled. "You seem to like him much more than you used to."
Rachael shrugged a shoulder—casually, she hoped. "I guess he's changed over the years."
"Yes, he has. He'd make an excellent husband now, don't you think?"
"For someone else," Rachael said warily.
"For you. I think you two would rub along wonderfully together."
"He's my cousin. You know I won't marry a cousin."
"Rachael…"
Juliana glanced away, her gaze sweeping the thronged entrance hall. Her husband was talking to Alexandra and Tristan, and Rachael's sisters and Noah were in the salon. Apparently satisfied that no one important was watching, she took Rachael's arm and drew her into the room Griffin and Corinna had vacated.
"I know your secret," she said in a low voice.
Feeling blindsided, Rachael struggled to look normal while she sipped more brandy. "What secret?"
"I know John Chase wasn't your father," Juliana said gently. "And I know you're Lady A's granddaughter."
Rachael relaxed a little, and not just due to the brandy. Apparently her cousin didn't know her real father had committed treason, or surely she would have mentioned that, too—because if there was one thing Juliana loved, it was a juicy secret like that.
And she supposed it wasn't all that dreadful for people to know the rest. Her mother had been married when Rachael was conceived, after all—it wasn't as though Georgiana had been carrying a bastard child when she married the Earl of Greystone. And while not being John Chase's blood daughter was a disappointment, being Lady A's granddaughter was a joy.
Still and all, it had been a secret. "Who told you?" she asked.
"It doesn't signify. It was an accident, not intentional, and the person I learned it from wished you no harm. But, Rachael, I…well, I realize you wanted it kept secret, but I thought it best to reveal I know, because there's something you apparently don't know. Or haven't realized yet."
Juliana paused for effect, or maybe to give Rachael a moment to absorb what she'd already said. Because what she said next seemed somewhat confusing.
"You're not Griffin's cousin."
Rachael hadn't thought much about that, but it was true, of course. "I know we're not blood related, since I'm not really a Chase, but…"
"But what?"
"He's still family. Griffin is Griffin. My cousin. We grew up together."
"Why should that matter? There would be no risk of you two conceiving a damaged child like your cousin Edmund, and that was your issue, wasn't it? You wouldn't have to worry about having a child like that with Griffin."
She'd never thought about that, either. Two years ago, when Griffin had first come home from the cavalry, she'd found herself stunned by how much he had changed. Handsome as sin personified, she recalled thinking. The reckless, gangly youth she'd remembered had grown tall, dark, and sleekly muscled, and she'd been shaken by the sudden force of attraction she'd felt. But she'd told herself he was her cousin—not knowing any different at the time—and that had been that.
That wasn't that, though, was it?
"Oh, damn," she finally said softly. "I've been such a bloody idiot."
"We all are sometimes," Juliana soothed.
But Rachael wasn't listening. She'd shoved the glass at Juliana, her black skirts rustling as she ran from the room.
FIFTY-TWO
"CAN I NOT just be sad over the loss of
