Chapter Sixteen
Lavinia gasped as Percival threw himself upon the duke. It was more or less societal suicide, but then, the man had been pushed to the breaking point and had once more imbibed in brandy that dulled his senses and loosened his words. To say nothing of the twisted facts the duke had told him, things she couldn’t by rights clarify.
When she would have gone to him along with Lord Randolph, Lord Saintfort put a staying hand on her arm. “Leave him be. He’s hurting and no doubt embarrassed.” A trace of censure went through the man’s voice.
“He has no reason to be.” As she stared, Lord Randolph wrenched the earl from Lord Bradford.
“No? You betrayed him, Your Ladyship. He’s hopelessly in love with you and you took that love and ground it beneath your heel.”
“I didn’t!” She looked at Lord Saintfort, caught the annoyance in his eyes, and shook her head. “The duke lies. He manipulated an innocent situation and bent it to his purposes so it would bring Percival down. The man preyed upon my husband’s insecurities, picked on his weaknesses in order to reduce him to nothing in front of the ton.” White-hot anger welled deep inside her chest. It rushed upward, spreading out until she shook from that outrage.
“And yet, here we are, watching a broken man send the rest of himself into a hole of despair where he’ll forever find himself blacklisted in society. Because of you.”
“Like hell he will,” she murmured while Lord Randolph held Percival off from pouncing upon the duke once more. When she caught Lord Saintfort’s eye, she shook her head. “Would it be outside the realm of possibility that one of you might believe in me? Might assume what I’ve done is above board and innocent?”
“Are you willing to fight for what you want above all things?” One of his brown eyebrows raised in challenge.
Was she? All she’d ever wanted was acceptance within society and a life of respectability that she’d never had during the course of her entire existence. But now? Her heart trembled even as the cracks within that organ threatened to shatter it. Now, all she wanted was Percival’s love and respect. She wanted a family she could care for, as well as understanding from that one special person who meant the world to her.
She narrowed her eyes on him while Percival and the duke exchanged shouted insults. “Society can go hang, Lord Saintfort, and you can too if you think I’m so shallow I care nothing for Percival’s future.”
“That’s what I thought.” His lips twitched as amusement and respect lined his expression. “Now go help your husband, and I sincerely hope you’re able to win him back before the rest of his brain is pickled. You two need each other.”
Relief shot down Lavinia’s spine. She touched his arm. “Thank you.” Then she lifted her chin, squared her shoulders, and walked with purpose toward the two men at the center of what would be society’s largest on-dit for weeks. Yes, her husband had a drinking problem, and though she fully believed he wished to change, until he could look that issue square in the eye and decline its power, there was nothing she could do to help him except support his efforts. However, she could do something about the wreck of his—their—social life.
“That is quite enough from both of you.” Though her voice shook, she refused to shrink herself down to make the people that filled the ballroom comfortable. She wasn’t ashamed. “Lord Randolph, will you please escort my husband away since his presence apparently incites His Grace?”
“Of course, Lady Laughton.” The peer nearly succeeded as he tugged Percival to the far side of the room, but then the earl wrenched out of his friend’s hold and paused with uncertainty on his face, as if he didn’t know whether to flee or stand his ground.
Murmurs and whispers filled the air as attendees openly gawked.
The duke plucked an imaginary piece of lint from his dark sleeve. “Ah, I see the foundling kitten has found her claws.”
Dear Lord, what a prick this man is!
“I am neither a kitten nor a whore. And if you find you cannot refer to me without likening me to something else, perhaps you shouldn’t address me at all, Your Grace.” She narrowed her gaze upon him while another round of gasps went through the room. “Regardless of my place within society or yours, there should be respect involved for the very reason that we are both human beings and alive, yet from your actions here tonight, it’s become readily apparent you are incapable of treating anyone thusly.”
“Respect is earned, and you certainly haven’t done that.” He looked at her as if she were a bug beneath his foot.
“Neither have you, Your Grace.” This man, this duke perched so high within society, was nothing more than a bully. “While I’m sorry your ego still stings that my husband chose me over your daughter, I do think he’s been given the better end of that stick, for you would have been a wretched father-in-law.” She swallowed hard, for she despised being the center of attention, and right now, all eyes were on her, and her alone. When her hands shook, she clenched her fingers in the folds of her gown. “Now, you’ve accomplished what you’ve come here to do tonight, so perhaps you should leave.”
He smacked the tip of his walking stick upon the floor. “You have just ensured no one within the ton will give you welcome.”
“As if I give two braces for that.” Lavinia snapped the fingers of one hand. She glanced toward Lord Saintfort, who looked at her with an expression of both awe and respect. “Some things are worth more than others, and those of worth cannot be found within the shallow and outdated ideals of society.”
With a growl of frustration, the man finally took his leave. A few others left the ballroom after him, but the bulk of the assemblage remained, no doubt to witness the final denouement to her dreams of moving with society as someone of respect.
So be it.
When she shifted her gaze to Percival on the other side of the room, pain radiated around her heart, for he glared back at her, still apparently in the grips of the wounds the duke had given him, while Lord Randolph wore a rather large grin.
Dismissing them both temporarily from her mind, Lavinia moved over the floor until she reached the center of the ballroom. If this was where she’d make her last stand within the beau monde, she wanted everyone to see her clearly.
“How dare all of you think to judge me.” One by one, she made certain her eyes connected with each and every person there. “Many of you keep secrets, have done things in your past you are ashamed of. Perhaps you’ve done those things when you had no other choice, or perhaps you’ve willingly committed scandal and hope to God no one will ever discover those sins. It matters not.” Lavinia shrugged even as the muscles in her belly quivered, and rage still brewed within her body. “So, to cope, to make certain no one will ever find out or be too cowed to try, you lock people out of your tight little world and pretend you are better than everyone else. You’ve built class divides and inside those divides are other little groups and niches that no one will ever be considered good enough to join.”
How had she ever wanted to be a part of this? Had she ever gained acceptance among them, she would be no better than them.
She pressed her lips together. The hush of silence in the room was quite deafening, but then, perhaps it needed to be for these people to examine their hearts. “And you judge, you whisper, you make up or perpetuate rumors about others you find lacking, yet you have no idea what they have sacrificed—what I’ve sacrificed—to become the woman I am today.”