Abandoned to the Prodigal - Mary Lancaster Page 0,1
he asked coldly.
She halted as though she had been slapped. “Want? Why are you treating me this way? What have you heard?”
Only then did she see the newspaper in his hands. It wasn’t The Morning Post or the Gazette. He dropped it with some disgust on the table between them.
Juliet stepped up to it, reached past the vase of fresh flowers, which stood at the center of the table, and lifted the newspaper.
It seemed to be one of the scandal sheets she never read and never wished to. The lurid headline Orgy in C. Place caught her eye at once. And below it, words and phrases leapt from the page.
Undaunted by the absence of either propriety or their royal mistress…Lady M.W., Lady J.L., Miss D.S., and Miss H.C. lurk in the midst of the night’s debauchery, where also were present vast quantities of finest wines and brandies… and several of London’s most prominent rakes.
“Oh, dear God,” Juliet whispered, her hand flying to her cheek while the newspaper dropped back onto the table.
“Dear God, indeed,” Jeremy said grimly. “What were you thinking of?”
“Thinking of?” Juliet repeated, bewildered. “Of keeping out of the way, yet protecting Her Highness… Jeremy, you cannot believe this vile fustian? It is all lies!”
“Then you were not at Connaught Place?” he snapped. “You certainly left here with every intention of going there. Or so you told my mother!”
“Well, yes, I did, but—”
“Then you deny any such party took place?” he said with contempt. “That any of these people were present?”
Juliet whitened. “I… No, I cannot deny they were there, but you don’t understand!”
“No, I don’t,” he agreed, swiping up the newspaper with one hand. “I’m glad I don’t. But I’m sure you will understand that any promises between us are broken and our engagement is therefore at an end. Goodbye. Johnson will see your ladyship out.”
Her ears seemed to sing with the impossibility of this situation. The whole world was crashing in on her.
“Jeremy, you can’t!” she pleaded. “You cannot so condemn me—”
“You are condemned out of your own mouth,” he said shortly. “I would be grateful if you did not visit my mother again. She is no longer at home to you.”
A quick spurt of anger was all that prevented her from curling up on the floor. “Do you imagine my father will not be offended by your treating me in such a way?”
“That is exactly what I imagine. I’m afraid it’s you who has offended him, your entire family, and mine. Don’t make me call for footmen to speed your departure.”
It was an empty threat. Probably. But that he would make it, shriveled her to the bone. “But…what will I do?” she said, thinking aloud. “Where can I go?”
“Home. Go to Yorkshire.”
“On the ten guineas I have in my purse?”
He hesitated, then delved inside his well-made coat, and retrieved a large banknote which he held out to her. “Goodbye, Juliet,” he said firmly.
A fresh spurt of anger saved her once more, bringing with it a moment’s pride that was probably foolish but all she had to counter the pain of his massive betrayal.
She stared at the money in his hand, then slowly raised her gaze to his. “The trouble with you, Jeremy, is that beneath your smart coat and your expectations, you are simply not a gentleman.”
She picked up her valise and walked past him and out the door, her head held high. As she crossed the hall, Johnson and the footman watched her go. A porter opened and closed the front door behind her, leaving her staring at the open-mouthed maid who had finished scrubbing the steps and stood gawping at her, brush in one hand and bucket in the other.
Juliet would have liked to carry on, stalking up South Audley Street with purpose. But she had no purpose. She thought briefly about going to Lady Meg in Grosvenor Square, but Meg’s father, the duke, would not welcome her either. And Meg would have her own troubles if her family had read that disgusting rag which had clearly roused the entire Alford household at such an unprecedented hour.
“Sally,” she said slowly, “where would one find a mail coach or even a stagecoach to Yorkshire?”
“The Swan with Two Necks in Cheapside?” Sally said doubtfully. “Or maybe the Golden Cross—the inn at Charing Cross—would be best.”
“You are probably right.” With a friendly nod, Juliet walked down the steps and set off along the road.
*
Juliet had never taken a public conveyance in her life and had no