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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

N ews came for Lysander the following morning. Ordinarily, it was the type of news that might have sent him into a fury. Yet under the current circumstances, he saw in it his salvation.

“Your Grace!” It was Mr. Jeffries, appearing in the doorway of the breakfast room. “I am so sorry to disturb you, but –”

“What is it, Mr. Jeffries?” Lysander’s first inclination was to assume that something was wrong with Margaret. He had not seen her since yesterday, having spent all of the previous evening and this morning still trying to decide what he was going to do. “Has something happened to Her Grace?”

“No, Your Grace.” He rushed toward the table and bowed quickly. “It is His Grace, the Duke of Morland. He was just seen riding through the gate.”

“Oh…” Lysander frowned at the news. “Are you certain?”

“It can be no other.”

“Huh.” Lysander looked to the window, noting the sunny morning and clear skies.

The last time Julian had visited him, it was done so under the claim that the bad weather had forced him to redirect and pay a visit.

Strange that he would come today without first sending word ahead. Likely, the man is simply bored.

Glad for the distraction and for the excuse not to face his wife, Lysander was quick to rise from the table and hurry outside to greet his friend. And it was just as he stepped through the doorway that he spied Julian climbing down from his horse.

“Julian…” Lysander started down the steps. “This is a most unexpected surprise.”

“I would have sent word!” Julian strode toward him, his massive size seeming to make the ground shake with each step. “But I thought it best I see you at once.”

This gave Lysander pause, as he noticed the look of concern in his friend’s face. Always smiling, always in the middle of a jest of some kind, the man looked utterly at a shambles. Perhaps even afraid?

“Is something the matter?”

Julian grimaced. “Perhaps we should…” He looked past Lysander toward the house, only to shake his head. “No, there is no time. It is best to get this out of the way at once.”

“Get what out of the way? What is going on, man!”

“I only just heard myself,” Julian began, reaching into his coat and producing a letter. “It came for me last week – frustratingly, I was away so I only read it this morning. If I had been earlier, I might have tried to put a stop to it myself.”

“A letter…” Lysander eyed the piece of parchment. “A letter from whom?”

“I cannot believe you have not heard,” he continued. “Although your wife’s family was visiting, weren’t they…” He bit his lip with consideration. “Likely, that is why the news is yet to reach –”

“Will you quit rambling and tell me what is going on! Who is that letter from?”

Julian took a breath and calmed his rambling tongue. Then he looked plainly at Lysander, the weight of whatever this was written clear across his face. “It is from Lady Brimstone, Lysander. She has sent the same to half the ton.”

“Sent what – what is going on, man?”

He grimaced. “She has been telling everyone, Lysander. Spreading her filthy lies all over the ton. To anyone who would listen. I know there is no truth to them – of course I do! But you know how these things are. Like adding fire to a dried forest, a single spark and –”

“Will you just tell me what she has written!” he cried.

Julian sighed and handed the letter to Lysander. Lysander snatched it and began to read, his stomach dropped, and his face paled, and that sensation of being sick quickly rocked his body so that he began to sway.

“It is your lady wife, Lysander.” The big man reached out and rested a hand on Lysander’s shoulder.

“As you can see, she claimed that at the Brimstone Ball, she was…” He grimaced again.

“That she had too much to drink. So much, in fact, that she… that she…” He winced.

“That she was seen to be undressing herself in the middle of the ballroom.”

Lysander’s hands shook as he continued to read.

“Worse than many have taken her words as fact. I have heard from two separate sources now that this caused a great fight between the two of you. That you were seen dragging her outside, heard to be fighting, and then you left early because of it – Lord Talsworth even claims he saw the fight, that he heard your wife screaming. Most are aware of the rumors about why you and Margaret married to begin with – rumors we thought to be dead. Only now, they are looking to resurface. People are speaking again of the scandal that saw you two come together.” He exhaled and shook his head.

“I have denied it, of course. And I have told others the same. But you know how these things are, Lysander. There are already a score of men and women who swear they saw Margaret half-naked at the Brimstone Ball. Another score who saw you dragging her outside. It has taken on a life of its own! And worse still, I do not know if there is any way to stop it.”

Lysander had long stopped listening to his friend’s ranting.

He was staring at the letter in his hand, feeling a creeping sickness fused with anger swirling about his stomach as it slowly spread about his body.

Anger at being spoken about like this. Anger at the rumors and falsity.

Anger at Lady Brimstone, for he knew she had to be behind it.

Anger at… not at Margaret, for the rumors are not true.

Anger at myself for letting this happen and doing nothing to stop it.

He tried to remain calm as he pieced this onslaught of bad news together.

The initial rumors were insane, of course.

Yes, Margaret had a wardrobe mishap, but it was nothing as dastardly as was said.

And yes, he had escorted her outside, but he had not dragged her!

And certainly no one had seen them arguing…

although if they had seen what the two had been doing, it might have made things worse.

As for the scandal? His body began to shake as he considered the implications of its return to the social discourse.

He had been at pains to keep the origin of this marriage hidden from the ton.

Dammit, that was what this entire marriage had been about!

What was its point if people knew the truth?

And how would this reflect on him? Not to mention his daughters?

“What should we do?” Julian was asking him, although Lysander could hardly hear him.

Blood rushed to his ears, his pulse quickened, and a heat which burned hotter than any fire engulfed him.

“I have already started denying everything,” he said.

“But we should send letters of our own, perhaps? Sow the true story? Lysander…” He took Lysander by the shoulder. “Lysander, speak to me.”

Through the haze, Lysander began to consider the reality of what this meant.

Even if he denied the rumors, they would leave a stink behind that Lysander would spend some months trying to wash away.

And in the future, should someone wish to hurt him, he had no doubt they would reappear.

Not a death blow, but a nuisance that might have untold consequences.

Only… does that even matter? As tragic and terrible as this is, it has made me realize something that I had been denying myself all this time. And in that, a smile slowly crept up Lysander’s lips.

“Yes,” he said slowly. “We must deny it at once -- I will pen a letter and have it sent to those who matter. This can not go unchecked.”

“Perhaps you should speak to Lady Brimstone directly?”

“I will do,” he agreed. “If she walks the comments back, that will help, surely.”

Julian cursed. “And Margaret? Let us hope she is made of strong stuff. She will need to be to weather this storm.”

“Yes, Margaret…” And still, that smile continued to grow.

Lysander’s mind went back to Margaret, still in bed, still wishing to speak to him of this marriage and its future.

It had been a conversation he’d been dreading, for until one minute ago, Lysander had not known what to do.

Oh, he had known what he wanted to do. The love he felt for Margaret clashed with the fear of what this love might cost him.

Excuses were what he was dealing with, searching for reasons to end what he knew in his heart he wanted more than anything.

As strange as it might have sounded, this letter, this scandal as it were, acted as a hammer smashing against a pane of glass, dispelling all doubt and worry inside of him in an instant.

Suddenly, what he wanted and what he had to do became clear like it never had before.

I love Margaret, and I know that now. What is more, I know that love is all that matters to me.

Holding the letter in his hand, thinking of the words written across it, Lysander felt a sudden urge to protect Margaret like he never had before.

He did not care what other people thought of her.

He did not care what they might think of him.

All he cared about was her, and in that, he knew what it was he had to do.

What I should have done days ago. Funny that it took a moment such as this to make me see it.

“I will speak to Margaret now,” he said, still smiling to himself as he now pictured the conversation he was to have. As he looked forward to it. “Thank you, Julian, for bringing this to my attention.”

“Of course!”

“I will seek you as soon as I decide on my next course of action,” he followed up. “Until then, deny everything you hear. And make it known that this is Lady Brimstone being petty and cruel. Nothing else.”

He scoffed. “I will let more than that known, believe me.”

Lysander rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder, gave him a grateful nod, and then turned and strode back inside. There was a kick to his step as he moved, his smile growing, his heart swelling because excitement was what took him.

Beyond that, Lysander realized also that he was not afraid of what he was about to confess, for he knew beyond a doubt that Margaret would accept his words without question. That was how he knew his path to be the right one, and possibly the easiest decision he had ever made.

He loved Margaret, and it was time she knew it. Once she did, they would attack this scandal together, as man and wife, stronger for it because that’s what marriage was about.