“Am I ruined?” Fiona hated that she was so naïve about these things. The earl had talked about ruination, but what did that mean exactly?
“I don’t think so. It doesn’t appear anyone got a good look at you or knows who you are, and your secret is completely safe with me. I would never want to contribute to another woman’s downfall.” She smiled kindly at Fiona. “The scandal of what happened in the garden will rest solely on Lord Overton.”
Horror spread through Fiona. She clutched the arms of the chair in a knuckle-whitening grip. “It was a scandal?”
“He was seen kissing a maid. Yes, that’s a scandal. My goodness, you are new to town, aren’t you? Gentlemen shouldn’t be kissing maids out in the open.” Her eyes narrowed. “They shouldn’t be kissing them at all, really, but that’s a topic for another day. Overton’s reputation will suffer for it, which is too bad since he’s been working so hard to repair it.”
“What’s wrong with his reputation?”
Mrs. Renshaw blinked. “Perhaps I should leave that between you.”
Fiona sat forward in the chair, which meant she almost slid to the floor. She grasped the arms even more tightly. “He won’t tell me.” She wasn’t entirely certain of that, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to ask. She did, however, need to know what the woman meant. “He’s an earl. What could be wrong with his reputation?”
“Overton is a rake. Rather, was a rake. He’s been trying to rehabilitate himself, and he’d been doing so well.” She frowned briefly. “He gave up his mistress, and he’s spent several evenings at White’s in the company of Lucien’s brother.” Mrs. Renshaw squared her shoulders and gave her head a shake. “He’s been attempting to demonstrate his worthiness, that he’s left his roguish behavior in the past now that he’s the earl.”
And she’d ruined it. Fiona pressed her hand to her mouth. She’d utterly devastated his hard work. A chill raced over her as she lowered her hand to her lap. “How will this affect him?”
“I would say it would not since so few people witnessed what happened, however Lady Hargrove can’t resist a piece of gossip if she thinks it’s helpful to others. And in this case, she will undoubtedly think so because Overton is hunting for a wife. She’ll see it as her duty to ensure his prospective brides know that he is still carrying on with other women.”
Fiona wanted to cup her face in her hands, but she made herself sit straight and still. “I feel terrible. What can I do?”
“Nothing, nor would he want you to. If you were recognized, you would be ruined. And while the earl can survive this—socially—you would not. It would also reflect rather poorly on him since he is your guardian. Many would think he took advantage.” Mrs. Renshaw’s nostrils flared. “Did he?”
“Not at all,” Fiona said quickly. “I kissed him.” Then he’d kissed her. And she’d kissed him back.
“I see. Well, if there is something between you, I encourage you to determine what that is with the utmost haste.” Mrs. Renshaw scooted forward and reached across the space to graze her fingers against the back of Fiona’s hand. “Don’t fret. I can see you blame yourself for what happened, but Lord Overton is a grown man. While you did err in coming here, what happened was just an unfortunate turn of events.”
Mrs. Renshaw stood. “Now, let’s get you home. I’ll hail a hack to deliver you.”
Fiona couldn’t leave Cassandra behind. She tipped her head back and summoned the courage to speak. “I, ah, wasn’t alone.”
Mrs. Renshaw’s jaw dipped in surprise. “Indeed? Who is this other person?”
“My friend.” Fiona didn’t want to reveal her identity, but when they found her, there would be no helping it. She’d leave that for when she was found. If she was found. Perhaps Cassandra had been able to escape. Would Fiona have done that? No, she couldn’t have left her friend behind, just as she wouldn’t now. “We were separated over on the gentlemen’s side. On the first floor.”
“I’ll take care of it. You relax here for now.” With a parting smile, she left, closing the door behind her.
Fiona practically leapt from the chair to the window. The garden below was empty. Where was Overton now? And what could he possibly be thinking of her behavior?
Wringing her hands, she paced across the room and back again. Why had she kissed him? She’d never kissed anyone besides her mother. This was a wholly different kind of kiss, of course. It was the kind of kiss she’d seen depicted in a certain book hidden in the bottom corner of her father’s library. Before her cousin had taken it along with the rest of the books.
Perhaps her lingering curiosity about the things she’d seen in that book had prompted her to kiss him. Or the fact that the magnetism Cassandra had talked about had swept through Fiona, driving her to the earl. He’d been angry, and she’d felt awful. So she’d apologized. Then she’d wanted to do something to make amends.
Such as kiss him?
Coming to a halt, Fiona squeezed her eyes closed and put her hand over them. She forced herself to breathe, to calm the racing of her pulse. Everything was going to be fine. The worst that could happen was that she’d end up right where she started in Bitterley.
Her insides churned. That would be truly terrible. She didn’t want to go back. The only person she would have missed, Mrs. Tucket, was here with her. And here she had Prudence, Cassandra, Lady Pickering…and Lord Overton.
Dropping her hand to her side, she went back to the window and looked down at the garden once more. More specifically, she focused on the back corner where the door was partially disguised by a vine. She felt the cool wood of the door on her back and the warmth of the earl pressed to her front. Heat spread through her as she recalled the way he’d
