Widow Martin."
She couldn’t contain a faint whimper of distress, although more and worse awaited, now her liaison with Brock was sure to become public knowledge.
"I asked Mr. Canley-Smythe to return early from his factories, as I wished to discuss our business at greater length than we managed during the house party," Lord Derwent said.
"A good thing his lordship invited me," Cecil snapped. "Or I’d find myself bound to a woman I’m now ashamed to claim as an acquaintance."
Selina bit her lip and reminded herself that she wouldn’t cry in front of Cecil. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. But it was plaguey difficult to hold onto her composure.
"Nothing to say, Selina?" he jeered.
She could see he was disappointed that she wasn’t biting back. But what could she say? He had a right to his temper. She’d betrayed and humiliated him in the worst possible way. And while he might be a bully and a boor, he didn’t deserve this.
"Just that I’m sorry, Cecil," she said in a quiet voice, as she linked shaking hands together in her lap. "I have wronged you unforgivably, and there’s nothing I can do to make amends."
He went on needling her. "I’ll wager you’re sorry. You’ve lost an honorable place as a rich man’s wife, in exchange for a few days in a debauchee’s filthy bed. You’ve proven yourself a slut, madam. And a stupid slut to boot."
"Canley-Smythe, that’s enough," Derwent snapped, as Selina bit so hard on her lip, she tasted blood.
Cecil’s jaw set in an austere line, but he bowed his head to Derwent. "Your pardon, my lord. The strength of my feelings overcame me."
Derwent’s tone remained forbidding. "I can understand you’re suffering a disappointment, but do me the courtesy of containing yourself while in my company."
"My apologies," Cecil said stiffly, but the scowl he leveled on Selina told her that he had plenty more to say and he intended to find an opportunity say it.
God help her.
***
At the Blue Wagon, Kitty must have been waiting beside the front door, because she rushed out across the bustling yard in a fluster of relief as soon as Lord Derwent handed Selina from his carriage.
"Miss Selina, thank heaven! I’ve been that worried about you. I feared some mishap." Kitty’s gaze sharpened on her. "Lordy, madam, are you all right? You look terrible."
Selina supposed that "some mishap" could describe the day’s calamities. She mustered a smile and struggled to sound as if her life hadn’t come to an end. "There was a carriage accident, but I wasn’t injured. Just a few bruises. Where is John? I’d like to leave for London straightaway."
The yard was crowded, and there was no sign of Brock. He hadn’t passed them on the road, but she’d hoped he wasn’t far behind. Luck didn’t shine on her today. She was vaguely aware of Cecil climbing out of the carriage. Lord Derwent stood a few feet away, ordering assistance for Erskine and requesting a parlor for his use.
She shrank from the curious glances aimed at the new arrivals. Nobody would miss the disheveled woman exiting the stylish equipage in the company of two well-to-do gentlemen and an injured man. She wished she could hide under her bonnet, but she’d left it back in the wrecked carriage.
Selina felt close to shattering. All the emotional turmoil of leaving the hunting box, then the accident, and now this public humiliation – humiliation sure to worsen as the scandal spread – overwhelmed her. She stumbled as she advanced toward the inn’s entrance.
"Madam, let me help you." When Kitty placed a supportive arm around Selina’s waist, she sagged into her maid’s grasp. The girl lowered her voice. "I thought I might see a certain gentleman with you."
Selina spoke under her breath, too. "The earl is following on horseback."
The inn’s servants were already bustling around them. Yet more people to bear witness to her disgrace, she thought bitterly. She heard Erskine’s strangled groan, as they attempted to move him.
"You and I are due a discussion before you go," Cecil said behind her, in a tone that made the hairs rise on the back of her neck.
"Cecil, tempers are running too high right now." She struggled to sound in control. A concerned glance from Kitty hinted that she didn’t succeed. While she owed Cecil an explanation, she didn’t want to talk to him while anger rolled off him in waves. "Better you come and see me in London."
The hand that curled around her arm wasn’t half so gentle as Kitty’s.