Hello to all my readers: I've got a business trip tomorrow, and thought I'd better go ahead and post now. Enjoy!

Chapter 39: Compromised Honor

Wanting very much to see that Jane was safe and well, Tavington approached the door of her bedchamber. Were she not here, she might still be upstairs in the safety of the nursery. He tried the door, and found it locked. He knocked, very softly.

Jane's voice, gruff and angry, called out, "Go away! I have a pistol, and I'll shoot you if you force the door!"

Ah, yes. Jane's pistol.

"Jane, it is I, William."

Another silence. Tavington wondered uneasily if she might be considering shooting anyway. To his relief, she did not, but opened the door a little, her small figure dim in the light of a single candle. She had obviously been asleep, and she did not look delighted at the sight of him.

Unsmiling, she said only, "Yes?"

With a light touch, he slipped past her into the room, and shut the door behind him. A glance showed him the pistol on the little table by the bed. "A very nice weapon. The newspapers are all singing your praises."

"As Moll once wisely told me, 'Menfolk aren't always there to protect the womenfolk.' And so I have often found. I am surprised to see you. We expected that you would be enjoying the company of the Earl and his guests indefinitely."

He managed a slight laugh and shook his head. "I returned as soon as I heard about the attempted waylaying. It was very alarming." He divested himself of his coat and unbuttoned his waistcoat as well, glad to be settling in for the night. Jane, however, was not admiring him as she usually did. Her eyes were hard.

"I see. You found it alarming. Imagine then, how I found it."

It had begun to occur to Tavington that Jane really was angry with him: seriously angry, and not only angry, but also rather contemptuous and dismissive, as if she had ceased caring much about him. It hurt more than being quarreled with, and did not seem to be the sort of mood he could overcome with a few smiles and kisses. She was looking at him steadily, as if permitting him to speak, but not wishing him to stay afterwards. He tossed the waistcoat aside and came closer to her.

"Jane. I was horrified when I read about the attack. I knew nothing about highwaymen frequenting the road. Had I known—"

She cocked her head, and raised an inquisitive brow. "What?"

"Well," he gave a faintly exasperated laugh, "I would certainly not have allowed you to travel until I could have escorted you!"

She looked at him in flat disbelief. "I see. I suppose you did not know about your mother converting her house into a gaming hell, either."

"Of course not! John and I have sent Mamma to her room and thrown the gamesters out. You must have heard the noise!"

"It sounded like it has sounded every night since we returned—shouts and drunken rioting and strange men pounding on our door, demanding our company--as if we were harlots employed by the house for their diversion. Do you know that your mother wanted Letty to expose herself to those brutes, singing for them and dancing with them, and entertaining them?"

"Well--of course she could not—"

"No, she could not—not unless she wanted the whole of London to give her the name of whore!"

"Jane!"

"I suppose it would have been fitting. She and I would have been a matched set, for your mother had already called me a thief before the entire household!"

"What! Jane—I find that—"

For a moment, he thought she would hit him. Then she sneered coldly. "Oh yes, I forgot. Nothing I say can possibly be true, as I am not an earl's daughter. Very well. If you do not wish to hear such things, I really think I have nothing further to say to you. Good night to you."

She opened the door again and stood stonily silent, looking at the floor, clearly wanting him gone. He pushed the door shut again.

"Jane, what has happened? I heard from Rivers about my mother wanting Letty to sit with her—obviously it would have been wrong—and no further gaming will be permitted. What do you mean, my mother called you a thief?"

She looked up at him with burning indignation, and her answer burst forth in a flood of scalding words. "It was all because of that hideous snuff box that your cousin so condescendingly bestowed upon me. I have been locking my door ever since I returned from the country, what with all the strangers in the house, but I returned one day to find Lady Cecily in my room, rifling through my possessions. She has the household keys, of course, and she had been waiting for me. No sooner had I entered, than she rounded on me, waving the wretched object under my nose, denouncing me for having robbed your uncle during my stay at Colneford. Apparently the snuffbox is an ancient heirloom of her noble line, and she was certain I had pilfered it. The disturbance was such that your sisters, and Letty, and a number of the servants came to see what was the matter. There, in front of them all, she railed on and on about thieving Colonial trollops and magistrates and the gallows, and finally I told her to take the filthy thing out of my sight, if she must have it. That contented her, and she swept away triumphantly with her prize.

"We went out that night to hear Signor Bellini, escorted by Lord Fanshawe. The concert was marvelous, but going out proved a great mistake. When we returned we had to run the gauntlet of the gamesters and drunkards and libertines who snatched at our skirts and called out lewd suggestions. We have not left the house other than in the morning since then. It seems to be the only safe time. At that, with all the silly people calling on us since that ridiculous piece in the Morning Post, we have hardly been able to get away. I have not spoken with your mother either, for Letty and I have taken our meals in the nursery with Moll. Better to dine with honest servants, than to be forever reviled as a thief and an eyesore, and a sly, scheming adventuress!"

Tavington forced himself to be silent, hanging on to his temper by his very fingernails. It would not calm Jane to begin shouting himself. Instead, he acknowledged how Mamma's absurd conduct would seem to a dependent young woman, coming nearly friendless to a strange land. No—it was worse than absurd. It was cruel, and it was exactly what he had always dreaded. Perhaps it had been cruel of him, too, to subject her to it. But they had been in England only a few weeks. Not staying with his mother would have looked odd—unfilial too. It was a dreadful tangle, and Mamma's incomprehensible behavior was not helping.

Very gently, he took her hands in his, and made her stand still. "Jane," he said softly. "I am sorry for all this wretched business. I am very much to blame. I had hoped that when Mamma met you—when she saw how accomplished and clever and kind you are—when she saw our little boy—I had hoped her heart would be softened and that she would accept our marriage. I was wrong. Perhaps at one time she might have, but I am beginning to believe that she is not quite rational. It has been years since I saw her. She is older now, and her mind, it seems, has deteriorated."

Jane looked away, with a faint snort of derision. He gripped her hands more tightly.

"Obviously, we must make arrangements of our own. However, I fear they will have to wait until the end of the quarter when we receive our income—for I—"

She glared at him, eyes blazing, and pulled her hands free. "Have you gambled it all away?"

"No!" He pushed the anger down. Clearly she thought the worst of him, and was not in the mood to be reasonable. A pang of conscience reminded him of the hundred pounds that had gone to silence the cottager. "I told you that John and I had business at Wargrave! We found a dire situation, and I lent John quite a bit of money to undertake desperately-needed repairs."

"Your brother's income must be three times our own! Why must we subsidize his lack of judgement?"

"Because he spent the money before the crisis became apparent. The roof must be repaired before winter. There is nothing to be done. John will pay me back as soon as he can—no later than the end of December, and then—"

She covered her face with her hands, and nearly wailed in despair. "Oh, my God! Are you saying we are staying until the end of the year? Oh, my God!"

"Jane! Calm yourself! The servants will hear you! John and I are going to speak to Mamma, and force her to moderate her behavior. We shall have her examined by a physician. The keys will be taken from her, and she will not be allowed to visit or to receive visitors without supervision—"

Jane shook her head. "So your sisters' lives will become that much worse! They are racked with guilt at her least complaint. How can they possibly control her? And—" she had a terrifying thought—" you cannot possibly expect me to serve in that capacity! She would never obey me, and the servants would always take her part."

"Nothing is decided. It may be best to engage a genteel woman as both companion and nurse."

Jane sat on the bed, and shook her head again. "This is horrible. This is so much more horrible than I ever imagined…"

He came over to her, and stroked her hair. "My dear Jane. If she is ill, she deserves your compassion. Do not, I pray you, forsake us when we have need of you."

She looked up at him then, a sharp, shrewd look that he had never before seen. Her hazel eyes glinted green. "Oh! Do not imagine for a moment that I'm going to run away! I daresay that might be convenient for your family to get rid of the embarrassing intruder, but I won't give you all that satisfaction!" He stared at her, shocked. She hissed, "Oh, yes! Don't think I haven't had plenty of time to think the matter through. I won't, absolutely won't give you any cause to divorce me. You've taken my money, and your mother has done her best to take my self-respect, but you are not taking my child away from me!"

"How can you imagine that I would want that?"

"How can I? How can I not? I know that you've regretted marrying me—not getting your hands on my money—no, not that, of course—but I've seen you paying court to other women, like that revolting Lady Sattersby--wishing you could have married someone else—someone suitable. Well, too bad! You married me, and a good bargain you made of it! I have no settlement, no pin money, no jointure to protect me, but you won't be free of me until one of us is dead—and you'll have to try harder than leaving me to the mercy of rebels and highwaymen if you want to hurry that along!"

"That's enough!" he shouted. His hand was raised: it was all he could do not to hit her. Instead, he grabbed her by her bony shoulders and hauled her up, shaking her until her teeth rattled. "How dare you accuse me of trying to murder you, you little idiot? If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead!" He threw her onto the bed and pinned her down.

"Let me go!" she shouted. "I hate the very sight of you! You've made my life a misery!"

Her legs kicked uselessly, but she did not look frightened. She was still angry—too angry too be easily cowed. Tavington found that wrestling with his wife on their bed was rather exciting, even if she was furious with him, and he decided that the quarrel must be resolved pleasantly, no matter what else was said.

He tried to put his hand over her mouth. "Stop shouting! You'll wake the whole house!"

She wriggled like an eel, trying to escape, and clouted him over the head. He sought to get a better grip and got a mouthful of her hair. It tasted of apple pomade, and tickled. He sputtered a laugh and then realized the front of his shirt had become wet. He looked down, puzzled, and was clouted again.

"You unspeakable brute! It serves you right to get my milk all over you!"

Her thin linen shift was nearly transparent over her breasts, damp with the milk that his sudden violence had pressed out. Holding on to his wife's wrists, Tavington gave the wet, rumpled cloth a lick. The milk was very sweet. It reminded him that Jane was a mother, a very good mother, and was entitled to some fits of feminine temper. She had been alone too long, through his own fault, and had got some queer ideas. He began to pull up the shift, intent on making himself agreeable to her. She resisted, kicking out at him again, determined not to give in easily.

In fact, Jane was angrier than ever. William thought she was amusing! He had become excited by her struggles, and rubbed his hardness against her, thinking this was all a game! He must imagine her some sort of hysterical female who could be placated with a little love-making. He appeared to think they were making love at the moment. She had never been so furious with him. He was too strong for her, and no doubt could have his way with her if he liked, but she would make him sorry later—very sorry—if he took her against her will.

There was a thud and clatter of something falling to the floor in Letty's room. They both froze at the sound, which was followed by a little scream from Letty herself.

"There! You see!" Tavington growled. "You've awakened Letty, and God knows whom else! They'll have heard everything you said!"

"I don't care! I haven't done anything wrong! I didn't betray my vows and then lie about it, or send my wife and child out to be robbed by bandits, thinking only of my own pleasure, or—"

"Oh, no! Help!" Letty cried.

This cry registered in Jane's consciousness. She shoved Tavington off of her with a violent effort and jumped out of bed. "Something's wrong! Letty!"

She slammed open her door and ran out of the room, clad only in her damp shift. Tavington dashed after her instantly, cursing under his breath. He was not eager to be seen by anyone else in his present state of arousal. The hall was very dark. Tavington nearly crashed into Jane, who was standing stock-still in her sister's open doorway.

"What are you doing here!" Jane demanded wildly.

Tavington looked over her head and started with surprise. The room was lit only by the remains of the fire. In the lurid glow, he could see Letty sitting up in bed, looking very frightened, her sheet clutched up to her chin. In a chair just inside the door of the bedchamber sat Lord Fanshawe, very much at ease. He smiled up at Jane, and rose to make her his usual courteous bow.

"Mrs. Tavington! And—Colonel Tavington!" he addressed them smoothly, flicking an amused glance at their state of dishabille. "Forgive an old man a moment of confusion. I was weary and chose to rest for a little while in a convenient chair. I seem to have dropped my walking-stick. I am very sorry to have disturbed you."

Letty stared at him in disbelief and cried to Jane, "I locked my door! I know I did! I don't understand!"

Jane glared at the elderly peer. "I know you locked the door, Letty. I saw it for myself."

Very worried that Letty could be ruined by the scandal that would ensue if it were known that she had entertained a man in her room—however unknowingly, Tavington tried desperately to think of a way to keep this disaster quiet.

"Jane, hush!" he said in an undertone. "My lord, how came you here?"

Fanshawe raised his brows in ineffable calm and opened one hand. A black, dully gleaming object lay there.

"I had a key."

"Letty!" Tavington gasped, "Did you give this man a key to your room?"

"No! I swear it! Please! Mrs. Tavington! I never knew he was there until I heard a noise and voices, and then I saw Lord Fanshawe! But nothing happened! Oh, please, my lord, tell them that nothing happened!"

"My dear Miss Rutledge, do not distress yourself," declared Lord Fanshawe. He smiled suavely at Tavington, "I assure you, sir, that the lady is blameless. Somehow—not through Miss Rutledge-- a key came into my possession and with the late hour and the wine—"

"Who gave you that key?" Jane demanded, her blood still up. "I know Letty never did! Who gave it to you? Did you bribe a servant or---" A horrible idea occurred to her, and she hissed out through clenched teeth, "Did Lady Cecily give you that key? I know she owes you money!"

The same ghastly thought had struck Tavington simultaneously. "Jane! Be quiet! We cannot let anyone know—"

But she was darting back, under his arm, back to her room, her bare feet slapping almost silently against the polished floor. She returned in a heartbeat, shaking hands clasping her pistol in front of her. Tavington made a grab for her. Letty screamed again, and even Lord Fanshawe's insouciant expression grew a little wide-eyed.

Jane struggled in her husband's arms and he tried to get the weapon away from her. She screamed, completely out of control, "You villain! I won't let you hurt my sister! I won't let anyone hurt my sister! You get out before I—"

Wham! The pistol's deafening roar was echoed by a faint tinkle of glass. Tavington had succeeded in knocking Jane's hand up, and she had put a hole in the left upper pane of a window. Letty's eyes were huge, her mouth hidden by her hands pressed over it.

As the noise faded, leaving a dreadful lowering silence, Lord Fanshawe rubbed his ear ruefully. "My dear Madam," he observed to Jane, "I thank you for providing me with a novel experience—all too rare at my time of life. I have been threatened by fathers and brothers often enough, but never by a sister! Your affection does you credit. I salute you." He bowed again, to Jane's bewilderment.

Firing the pistol had purged some of her rage, and she shivered in her husband's powerful grasp, wondering would happen next.

The house was stirring. Caroline, then Penelope were coming out of their rooms, crying, "What is it? Oh! What is it?"

Penelope saw Lord Fanshawe first and gave a little shocked gasp. Caroline rushed over to Letty.

"Are you hurt, my dear?"

John was struggling into a velvet banyan as he strode down the hall, calling out, "What the devil is that noise?"

Tavington took the pistol away from Jane, and pushed her at Letty. "Take care of your sister."

He met John just outside the door. John saw him with a weapon in his hand, and asked, "Good God! Was one of the blackguards still in the house? Have you shot someone?"

"No—no one is hurt but a window. John, there is something of a crisis afoot. Stand guard by the staircases, for God's sake, and send any servant who comes snooping back to bed. Tell them Mrs. Tavington was sleeping in Miss Rutledge's room for safety, and knocked her pistol off the bed table by accident. We don't want any of them telling tales. We may have to trust Rivers, I suppose, but no one else!"

"All right—if you say so," John answered, concerned and suspicious. He stationed himself in the hall, and Tavington heard him talking down the staircase to some menservants.

To his horror, Mamma was coming down the hall. She, at least, had taken some time to arrange herself, and was wearing an elegant, loose bodied gown. A grand coiffeur of lace, gauze, and ribbons hid her undressed hair. She seemed curious, but not particularly alarmed. Tavington left John to deal with her, and went back into Letty's room.

The women were all crowded around his sister-in-law, whispering, holding her hand, smoothing her hair. There was nothing more for him to do there at the moment, so he directed his attention to Lord Fanshawe.

"My lord, whether by accident or by design, you have compromised a lady's honor. You will leave this house immediately, and my friends shall call upon you tomorrow morning. Do not think that your age will protect you from me!"

"My dear sir!" Lord Fanshawe protested airily. "I should be only to happy to receive your friends and you, too, at your leisure. I am always happy to meet with interesting people. However, if you mean to challenge me to avenge your innocent sister, I must observe that the matter can be dealt with far more expeditiously, and with far little bloodshed, if I simply do what is incumbent upon me as a gentleman."

Rather puzzled at Fanshawe's old-fashioned verbiage, Tavington asked, "And that is---?"

A delighted, debonair smile. "Why, beg the honor of her hand in marriage, of course!"

"You wish to marry Letty—er, Miss Rutledge!"

"Of course! Unworthy as I am, I aspire, as we all do, to rewards beyond our desserts. Madam," he moved gracefully to the foot of the bed, and addressed Letty. "Pardon my unpardonable intrusion. I had no desire to alarm or disconcert you. An accident—but, perhaps, a fortuitous one." He bowed with a sweeping gesture. "My life, my fortune, my happiness are at your disposal. I await only your word to make me the happiest of mortals."

Frightened and bewildered, Letty whispered to Jane, "What does he mean?"

Jane could not speak for shock. Caroline murmured, "He is asking you to marry him, my dear."

Penelope, her eyes as round as Letty's, added, "You must accept him. It is the only way to prevent a duel and a great scandal!"

"But—" Jane, still trying to grasp the situation, could not utter the protest she felt.

Letty could, however. "But I can't! I'm not—Mrs. Tavington, tell him! I can't marry him! It would be—"

Fanshawe's brows rose. He asked Tavington, "There is not some secret marriage, is there?"

"No—nothing of the sort! I am not sure what she means. She has had a great shock." Tavington's mind was racing. Letty, to marry a viscount? It seemed fantastic, unbelievable—something out of a fairy tale! True, the man was fifty years her senior, but marriages between parties of unequal age were made every day. Jane would hate it, he knew, but there was nothing else to be done. A duel might satisfy his own honor, but Letty would still be ruined, and Jane degraded by the gossip that must follow.

Fanshawe was pressing his suit, ignoring Tavington's confusion. "Madam, forgive my importunate manner. It indicates the fervency of my sentiments, and must not be considered a sign of disrespect. Any misgivings, any concerns—speak them to me frankly, and I shall do my utmost to dispel your alarm!"

"My lord—you are so—I can't marry a nobleman---I'm not—" Letty was still dithering.

Jane collected herself enough to choke out, "Lord Fanshawe, my sister thinks herself of unworthy of you. Before you commit yourself, there are things that must be disclosed. Letty, do you want Caroline and Penelope to leave the room?"

Letty shook her head. "No. I trust them, but I beg them not to repeat this to anyone else." She took a deep breath, and said, "I really am Mrs. Tavington's sister. We do share the same father, but—he did not marry my mother." Silence. There was little reaction. Natural children were indeed a fact of Nature. They were everywhere in society, and Letty's revelation was not wholly unexpected to anyone who knew the world. She saw that they were not angry, or denouncing her at once, so she threw a glance at Jane, who sighed, and nodded. "My mother," Letty told them, 'was—a slave. She was a quadroon, and her mother was a Cherokee woman taken in a raid. I am an octoroon myself, and one quarter Indian."

Tavington's sisters seemed surprised, rather than put off. Lord Fanshawe, however, was positively fascinated.

"A child of three continents!" he exclaimed. "Only that could begin to account for your peerless beauty! A remarkable tale. I knew you were a unique individual, Madam, and this confirms it! Extraordinary!"

Letty's voice dropped to a whisper, "And—I was a slave myself, until I came to England. I have no money—nothing--"

Jane burst out, "She grew up with me. We have never been apart. Her mother—the best, the kindest of women—was my nursemaid. Letty was my constant companion, and though the law forbade her education, I taught her myself. She is very dear to me, and I will not have her sold for a gambling debt!"

"Jane, be quiet!" Tavington commanded. "There is nothing else to be done. My lord," he said, eyeing Fanshawe coldly. "You have heard my sister's disclosures. Do you wish to retract your proposal?" He stared at the elderly peer, giving him clear notice that he was a dead man if he did.

Lord Fanshawe, however, was not the least troubled. He pulled up the chair he had been sitting in closer to the bed. "May I sit in your presence, Madam? Ladies? The hour is late, and I find myself fatigued," Satisfied that they were not offended, he seated himself, carefully adjusting the drape of his coat, and addressed Letty.

"My dear young lady, you fear you are unworthy of me? It is I who do not deserve you! I dare proclaim it to all the world."

"But people may talk—"

He laughed. "People have talked about me all my life. Let them. They have nothing better to do, as their lives are not as interesting as mine, evidently. Your lack of fortune matters nothing to me, as I inherited at a young age what amounts to inexhaustible wealth. I have a splendid house in town, three country estates, and an assortment of other properties. I have no political aspirations. Your lack of fortune and your birth can cause me no inconvenience. I care nothing for either. Nor do I care about the gossip of fools. It is you—you, with your loveliness, your charm, your passion for beauty in all its forms--with whom I wish to share my remaining years. I would wish it were you the child of a thousand slaves."

Letty had never heard such a beautiful speech in her life, and certainly never addressed to her. She flushed with pleasure and curious kind of hope. "I never thought I would ever marry. I never thought anyone would want to give me his name. Thank you, my lord, for asking me, and I accept your kind offer very gratefully."

"Letty!" Jane cried, completely taken aback. "Consider—"

Lady Cecily was heard outside in the hall, loudly demanding to know what was going on in her own house.

"Whatever it is, I'll wager you had a hand in the mischief," Sir John said grimly. "Come, Madam, I am taking you to your room. You shall stay there until morning—and then we shall talk about your behavior!"

They could all hear her outraged protests, as her voice faded, and then was cut off, punctuated with the sound of door slamming.

"Did my mother connive with you for this?" Tavington asked quietly.

"My dear sir! I have kept ladies' secrets all my life, and I am not about to tell you your mother's!" More seriously, Fanshawe added, "I cannot answer your question. Some parts of the story, even given without names, are too sordid to reveal in the presence of ladies. You must pardon me, believing that I wish only the best for this most excellent creature."

He rose from his chair and retrieved his walking stick. "And so, goodnight to you all." Another elaborate bow, and a kind look for Letty alone. "Send you friends to me tomorrow, by all means, Colonel—or better, come yourself. Around two, I should think. I shall have my man of business present a tentative settlement for your perusal. Your fair sister shall not find me ungenerous. Farewell."

He exited the room with great dignity, passing a thunderstruck John on the way.

"Good evening to you, Sir John. A fine night, is it not?"

John looked him over. "You haven't been shot, have you, my lord?"

"Not tonight, no. I have never been better. I believe I can find the way out myself."

"I cannot permit that. Here—Rivers!" he called softly down the stairs. "See Lord Fanshawe out. Do you require a chair, my lord? Rivers can call one for you."

"That would be most obliging. I thank you."

Determined to know what was happening, John hurried to the family council in session in Letty's room.

"What the devil is going on? Oh, Caro—Pen—we're all here. Would someone be good enough to tell me what is going on?"

Tavington took his brother aside, and gave him the story in brief.

"Lord Fanshawe never left tonight when we threw the others out. Somehow he got his hands on a key to Miss Rutledge's room. She was asleep, but awakened when he dropped his walking-stick. She cried for help and we came to assist her. Jane tried to shoot him, but I caught her arm and we are now missing a window pane."

"By God!" John interjected, very impressed. "I wish I'd seen that! Good for her! Anyway, go on! Did you call the rascal out?"

"I threatened to, but then he surprised us all by soliciting Letty's hand in marriage!"

"The old libertine! Well—I suppose--" he shrugged. "--I suppose the world will say she's made a great match, and is a very lucky girl. I can't judge them, but she's just a young thing—and he…"

"We must hope for the best, John. They must marry. If he were to let slip he had been in her room…"

"Naturally, they must marry. There's no help for it."

"He said he would give her a generous settlement."

"I don't doubt it! He's as rich as Croesus! And after all, how long can he live?" John considered the matter. "Very likely, he'll drop dead in a year or two and leave her a bouncing young dowager with plenty of money. Then she can make a fool of herself for love, like all the rest of us!" He yawned. "I'm going back to bed. We must sort out the old woman in the morning."

"And I must sort out this marriage business in the afternoon."

"Then you need your beauty sleep, brother mine. Here!" he called. "Caro! Pen! Let Miss Rutledge get some rest. We'll all think better for some time spent with our pillows." He nodded and turned back to his room.

Tavington found his wife and sister-in-law both in tears, holding each other tightly. "Come along, Jane. You must calm down. It's the way of the world, and all may be well."

"You go on to bed, honey," Letty whispered. "I'll be all right. I need some time to think, and I'm so sleepy nothing makes sense. Will I really be Lady Fanshawe?"

"Yes, Letty dear, but he is so old—"

Tavington pulled her away. "Jane! Leave it for now—"

"Yes, he's old," Letty said, considering, "but he's so noble, so refined. His eyes are so kind when he speaks to me. I think it—might be very nice."

Tavington looked back at her, glowing in the firelight, thinking over this new twist of fate. He shut the door, and at the sound Jane suddenly began to sob. She swayed against him precariously, and he thought she might faint. Stooping quickly, he swept her up in his arms and carried his distraught wife back to the comfort of their bed.

-----

Note: Thank you to all my reviewers.

Some of you have raised good questions. Foodie in particular asked about the ownership of the house in Mortimer Square. The house really does belong to Lady Cecily, and was not part of the entailed estate that Sir John inherited from his father. The house was given to her as part of her marriage settlement in such a way that Sir Jack could not legally sell it to pay off his debts. While Sir John is technically Lady Cecily's guardian (as her son), she still has the right to bequeathe the house (or sell it, or rent it, or whatever) to whomever she likes.

Next—Chapter 40: Marriage à-la-mode