“Why is my uncle doing this, Mrs. Scruggs? I am so bewildered.”
“I can’t guess his motives, but I had a sister once who was committed to an asylum by her husband. He was a spoiled monster who wanted a divorce, but he had no cause to obtain one, so he locked her away, then he was able to gad about as he pleased. We could never free her, and she died in that terrible facility.”
“Oh, Mrs. Scruggs! Don’t tell me a story like that.”
“I’m just so frightened for you! Your uncle has a wicked purpose that I can’t deduce, but at the moment, he is out of the house and Mr. Gregory is in London. Let’s get you away while they’re not looking.”
Caroline dithered, pondering what was best. The entire debacle seemed too far-fetched, like a plot in a theatrical play. Her uncle had always been such a rational fellow. What had possessed him to become so malicious?
She was frozen with indecision, and Mrs. Scruggs interrupted her miserable musing.
“What if he returns with a court order? What if he brings attendants from the hospital? They’d drag you away, and we’d never see you again. I’m certain of it.”
“This is too strange to be believed,” Caroline said. “I can’t fathom him acting this way.”
“A man can do anything to a woman. You’re aware of that.”
Mrs. Scruggs wouldn’t debate the issue. She went to Caroline’s dresser and started yanking out clothes and stuffing them into the portmanteau. Caroline observed in a sort of dazed stupor.
For days, she’d been drifting in an odd languor, as she’d tried to come to grips with her uncle’s perfidy. She’d been the perfect niece, the perfect girl, then the perfect young lady. How dare he treat her so badly! How dare he lock her in!
Her temper flared, and she was unusually incensed. Mrs. Scruggs was correct that a man could do anything to a woman, and her uncle had manipulated her her whole life. Gregory too, but she was finished with their running roughshod over her. She was finished with their making her feel guilty because she was different from other people.
As a child, she’d survived a tragedy. That was it. It wasn’t a crime, but they carried on as if it was.
An asylum? She’d see about that!
“Have you any money, Miss Caroline?” Mrs. Scruggs asked.
Caroline pulled a small purse out of her wardrobe. She opened it so Mrs. Scruggs could peek into it. “I have a good amount. My uncle gives me an allowance, but I never spend any of it.”
Mrs. Scruggs withdrew a wad of money from her own pocket, and she shoved it at Caroline. “Take this too.”
“I couldn’t.”
“London is very expensive. Use it for the necessities.”
Caroline gaped at the money, deliberating. It was wrong to prevail on a servant, but in the end, she accepted it. She hugged Mrs. Scruggs, saying, “You have to be the kindest person I’ve ever known.”
“I shouldn’t admit it, but I’ve never liked your uncle. And I like Mr. Gregory even less. You were right to cry off from your betrothal.”
“I’ll pay you back. I swear.”
“I don’t doubt you will.”
Caroline assisted with the rest of the packing, then they snuck down and out a rear door. A carriage was harnessed and waiting for her, her favorite footman seated in the box.
It was all accomplished in a quick minute. She climbed in and laid on the floor, and they rolled away.
They’d agreed that Mrs. Scruggs would return to Caroline’s bedchamber, tidy up, and relock the door so it would appear as if Caroline had vanished up to Heaven. When her uncle arrived to badger her, he would discover that his prisoner had flown the coop when he wasn’t watching.
Caroline smirked with a grim satisfaction. She had no idea why her uncle was plotting against her, but whatever his scheme, she wasn’t about to blithely succumb. Perhaps now that she was really, really angry, Samson Grey had finally met his match.
He just didn’t realize it yet.
“Must you go so soon?”
“I’m needed at home for supper. I told Sybil I’d be there.”
Janet smiled at Blake and kept her tone light. “Will I ever meet Sybil?”
“Maybe. If you can learn to behave yourself.”
“I always behave myself.”
He chuckled and swatted her on the rear. “Since you are naked and completely ruined, we both know that’s not true.”
“I just asked you to help me run away. I didn’t ask you to seduce me.”
“You didn’t have to ask. Your wicked intentions were clear from the start.”
“Can a woman have wicked intentions?”
Blake scoffed. “The world is full of trollops, so yes, a woman can be very wicked. In fact, they can be more dissolute than men. Once they tumble off the moral wagon, they’re incredibly corrupt.”
“Am I a trollop now? Should I think of myself as one?”
“Well, you have a very debauched character, but you hid it when you were residing under your father’s roof. Since you came to London, you’ve let it fly free. So, yes, you might have become a trollop.”
They were in the bedchamber of the pretty apartment she’d rented. It was located in the theater district, an area filled with musicians, actors, and other artistic types. The people she encountered had odd careers and schedules, so no one thought twice about her living alone.
He’d had to sign the lease—he’d pretended to be her brother—and the ruse had worked. She’d moved in the next day, but after she had, there was nothing brotherly about what had sprung up between them.
They were stretched out on the bed, with him having arrived to surprise her in the middle of the afternoon.
Her fall from grace had been accomplished with very little contemplation or effort. She was no longer a sheltered virgin from a rural estate in the country. She was a modern female in the city who was settling into her new life, while keeping a paramour to amuse her.
It was the exact sort of
