for the destruction and injuries caused by the riot.
His father was correct. The truth didn’t matter.
Did he care? Ever since Lydia had walked away from him, a hard, painful knot had formed in Alexander’s chest. He thought about her every passing minute, dreamed about her at night and woke sweaty and aching. He’d analyzed the Jane situation from every angle, tried to find some way to place the full blame on Lydia, to vilify her… and only ended up ashamed of himself.
What could one say about a sixteen-year-old girl who’d lived a life of isolation and darkness, whose brilliant mind made her both a prodigy and an anomaly? A girl who’d lacked friends and a mother and a normal childhood? A girl who had succumbed to the grotesque manipulations of a man twice her age?
How could he blame her for any of that?
And how could he blame her for not telling him the truth when she’d been so adamant about not marrying him in the first place? She’d tried to protect him by declining his proposal, and he’d not taken no for an answer. Instead he’d manipulated her all over again to force her to change her mind.
He winced and scrubbed his hands over his face.
No. The only person he had to blame for this whole debacle was himself.
“Alex?”
He looked up at his brother.
“The police are looking into Cole’s circumstances,” Sebastian said. “Seems he was staying at a lodging house over in Bethnal Green. According to the owner, a Mr. Krebbs, he’d been there for almost five months. Krebbs claimed Cole had few possessions and said he had no kin. The superintendent doesn’t expect they’ll find anything of much import. Which is to your… our advantage. The official report will state that Cole died during an attempt to kidnap Jane.”
“Doesn’t affect the riot situation, though, does it?” Rushton asked.
“That’s what they want to charge me with.”
“I don’t see how they can,” Sebastian said. “It wasn’t as if you were making a seditious speech or distributing anti-British pamphlets.”
“Does it matter?” Alexander asked. “The council has been wanting me off the board for weeks, even before the war started, and likely out of the Society altogether. Why not claim I incited the riot that destroyed the exhibition and St. Martin’s Hall? Like Rushton said, they won’t care about the letter of the law if they’ve an excuse to get rid of me.”
And while the council members wouldn’t intentionally drag his name through the mud, they’d do nothing to stop it from happening.
Well, hell. He might as well marry Lydia, truth be damned, and live in scandal for the rest of his life.
He’d be a bloody earl one day, and if people wanted to gasp at his shocking behavior in public while they bedded their servants and mistresses in private… so be it. He’d have them all over for tea and give them both cakes and plenty of fodder for gossip.
Alexander looked at his brother. Sebastian would never let anyone else dictate how he lived his life. Why should Alexander?
“Lord Rushton.” Alexander stood.
His father and Sebastian looked at him with faint surprise.
“Northwood?”
“Whatever happens,” Alexander said, “I still intend to marry Lydia Kellaway.”
Sunlight burned through a crack in the curtains. Jane pushed her hair away from her face and went to pull them open, allowing light to flood the room. She washed her face and hands at the basin, then paused at the table, where hot tea and a basket of muffins waited.
The door creaked open. She looked up from pouring a cup of tea to find Lydia in the doorway. Her sister… her mother… looked pale and drawn, her eyes wary. Grandmama stood behind her.
“May we come in?” Lydia asked.
Jane nodded. With a tentative smile, Lydia stepped inside. Grandmama went to sit on a chair beside the bed, her movements slow. “How do you feel?”
“All right. Tired but… fine.” Jane sipped at the tea and picked up a muffin, then put it down when she realized she wasn’t hungry. She returned to the bed, pulling the covers up over her legs. “Is Lord Northwood all right? And you?”
“We’re both fine.” Lydia settled on the edge of the bed and took a deep breath. “Jane, I—”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jane interrupted, anger and hurt rising to fill her chest again. She looked accusingly from Lydia to Grandmama. “Why did you lie to me?”
“It’s a long, complicated story,” Lydia said. “But believe me when I say it was for the best. If you’d known…