"Did it not occur to you, Father, that she could be responsible? That she might have tempted me into sin?"

"Me?" Arabella gasped. "Tempt you?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Lord Ba.r.r.s.ettshire bellowed.

"You still think her a moral, virtuous woman deserving of my inheritance?"

Neville raised an eyebrow as he slowly turned to regard her. "Fortunately, I have just proved that she is no more virtuous than I. I'faith, considering she is a woman, her sin is all the greater, is it not?"

The import of Neville's words struck Arabella like another blow.

"You seduced me only to prove that I am not worthy of your father's trust?" she whispered. "You would sink that low?"

She had made the most horrendous, shameful mistake of her life. She had believed Neville Farrington's smooth words and apparent sincerity.

She had been a l.u.s.tful, naive fool, a sinner unable to resist temptation, who should have known betterthan to trust in men's words or smiles or kisses.

Even his.

Especially his.

Neville didn't meet her gaze.

He would not look at her anymore.

She had not said one word in his defense, even though she had been as eager to make love as he. After all her declarations of love, she had not refuted the accusation that he had ruthlessly seduced her. She had not accepted any responsibility for what they both had done. She would let him take all the blame.

What kind of love was that, that would abandon him to his father's poor opinion?

As his mother had all those years ago.

"Good G.o.d, you are beyond redemption!" his father growled. "I am ashamed to be your father!"

Neville regarded him as he might a flea he had picked off his clothing. "I have merely done what I set out to do. I have proved that even Lady Arabella is capable of sin, like any other mortal, and so not worthy to usurp my inheritance."

"I do not want your inheritance!"

"You miscalculated, boy!" his father replied, ignoring her. "You have only proved your complete unworthiness."

"She sinned as much as I."

"She is but a weak woman."

"I was weak," Arabella began, "but I-"

"The same could be said of Eve, and G.o.d made no allowance for her weakness, as you would make no allowance for mine," Neville retorted.

"Don't you dare to speak of the Bible to me!" the earl snarled. "It is a wonder you are not struck dead!"

"That would please you, wouldn't it? Your rogue of a son conveniently dead in an instant. But then who would look after your money, Father? You would be bankrupt in a year!"

"You've gone mad! Since when have you done anything but spend my money?"

"Since I first arrived in London and your bankers came to see me. Tell me, Father, did you not find it odd that after years of pestering you regarding your debts and loans, they suddenly fell silent?"

"They understood that I was not to be bothered with such minor irritations. There was no need for me to know every small detail of the business of my estate."

"You know nothing of the business of your estate, and you never have, because you prefer to ignore it.

If I had not taken charge, you would be penniless now."

"That's a lie!""Is it? Ask Mr. Pettigrew. Or Mr. Hutchins. They can confirm all this."

"Do you mean to tell me they have given you free rein with my money? I will have their heads on London Bridge if that is true!"

Neville ground his teeth in frustration. It was useless. His father would never believe he owed his prosperity to his son. He was glad Arabella was here, so that she would see why he had kept silent- She was gone. At some point when he had been arguing with his father, she had left the room.

Just as his mother had left him without a word of farewell.

Convinced that love was nothing but a delusion after all, he strode to the door, threw it open and marched out, determined never to set foot there again.

The next morning, Arabella sat alone in her bedchamber, staring out the window as she had for the whole of the night. Before dawn a thick fog had drifted up from the Thames, so that all she could see was a soft, dull gray beyond the droplets on the panes of gla.s.s.

Her eyes burning, she twisted a handkerchief in her fingers and thought that soon she would begin to pack. Soon, when she was in command of herself again. When she could stop thinking of her terrible, shameful mistake and the horrible argument she had not been able to endure.

When she could think of Neville Farrington without feeling like a naive simpleton. When the tears would finally come to wash away her pain.

There was a soft tapping at the door. Jarvis, she a.s.sumed, and bade him enter.

She looked up when the door opened, to see Lady Lippet standing on the threshold.

She was plainly dressed, her large, black hat and black gown trimmed with only a few inches of scarlet ribbon. She wore little powder and not a single patch.

She looked as if she might be in mourning.

"May I, my dear?" she asked, her sepulchral tone matching her clothing.

"If you wish," Arabella replied, rising and gesturing at her vacated chair.

While Lady Lippet sat and arranged her skirts, Arabella inwardly prepared herself for the denunciations to come, which she fully deserved.

"You look so tired!"

"I did not sleep last night."

"No, no, of course not. Such a to-do! I'm afraid we all got rather upset."

With good cause. "Yes, we did."

Lady Lippet leaned closer, a conspiratorial look on her face. "There is no use in weeping over it."

"I have not."

"No, no, I can see that you haven't," Lady Lippet replied, adjusting her hat and clearing her throatdelicately. "So now you must carry on as best you can. This business will not matter to certain people.

Certain important people. Certain royal people."

Arabella folded her arms over her chest. "I want to go home to Grantham."

"Oh." Lady Lippet frowned. "This is not a hopeless tragedy, my dear. You are not the first woman to find her affections misplaced, you know." The older woman's eyes turned hard and cold as marble. "We give our love, and it renders us weak and capable of being used and discarded. You have little cause to think yourself more ill used than most, for you are luckier than most. You have beauty. If you feel the need for pity, save it for women who have none."

Again Arabella heard that note of bitterness, but a remnant of her pride made her speak. "I did not ask to be beautiful."

Lady Lippet smiled sympathetically. "No, no, of course not. And fortunately, the king will not mind if you are... experienced. So, you see, there is no need for you to go running back to Grantham."

"I want to go home, Lady Lippet."

"That would be the very worst thing to do!"

"I do not think so."

"Arabella, in London what you have done is not the sin it is in Grantham," Lady Lippet explained, as if Arabella was a particularly dim scholar. "And if you run away, who has won then?"

"This is not a game to me, my lady," Arabella replied. "I have no wish to stay in London. I have my inheritance. That is more than enough to live on."

"Do you?" Lady Lippet asked pointedly.

"What do you mean? The earl told me my father bequeathed me ten thousand pounds."

Lady Lippet was all pity and commiseration as she slowly shook her head. "He told you that-and me and Sir Thomas and everyone else he met in London-to attract the right sort of husband. But your father left all that he had to the church."

"That cannot be!"

If she had money, she could manage, perhaps even be able to overcome the scandal, if she was generous enough. But penniless? Or Beholden to the earl, whose son had ruined her? The earl should have protected her better from Buckingham and the king and Neville, too.

Lady Lippet's smile grew. "So you see, my dear, the king's offer is most fortuitous."

"But my lack of fortune would surely have been discovered when it came time for a marriage settlement to be drawn up."

"Well, my dear, Wattles planned to use some of his own money and claim all the rest was in investments.

Once you were married, he would have explained to your husband that the dowry wasn't terribly important, because the earl was bequeathing him a fortune."

"That fortune should be Neville's."

"To fritter away? Oh, no. Wattles is quite right, you know. He is the wastrel son of a selfish, spoiledmother. Neville would simply spend it all to amuse himself."

Arabella heard the outer door open downstairs and then her guardian's familiar, if slightly muted, voice.

At once she hurried to the hall.

"Arabella!" Lady Lippet called after her, but she did not stop.

She ran down the steps and into the withdrawing room, slamming the door behind her as she confronted the earl. "My lord, is it true that I have no inheritance from my father?"

"Where did you hear that?" he demanded.

"Lady Lippet has just told me."

The earl flushed. "She should not have. Is she still here? Where the devil is she?"

Arabella would not be distracted. "Is it true?"

"Your father, good man though he may have been in some respects, was a fool with his money."

"If he was, he was not the only one."

"What does that mean?"

"Did my father leave his money to the church?"

"Yes," he replied with obvious reluctance.

"Nothing at all for me?"

"He left you a little money."

"How much?"

He cleared his throat. "You've spent it."

"I? I have spent it? On what?"

"The gowns, the maid, the ribbons."

"Because I thought I had ten thousand pounds! Oh, how could you have lied to me like that?" Her eyes narrowed accusingly. "Indeed, you are not like your son, for at least he saved your fortune and did not encourage someone in his care to spend theirs!"

"He did not save my fortune! That is a lie, and he has persuaded the bankers to lie, too! He can twist people around his fingers like yarn, as you should know! His mother was the same." He struck his hands together, as if his anger must find physical release. "I have been seriously deceived in my bankers-but no more! They will not get another penny out of me!"

"You have been to see them?"

"Of course! Neville told me some nonsense last night about saving my estate. I've never heard anything more ridiculous! He lives to spend my money!"

"What did they say? Are you in serious arrears because of your son?""That is not the point! They did not have my permission to give Neville anything." He scowled darkly.

"Are you some kind of inquisitor that you would question me in this manner? I think not!"

She flushed but would not be silenced. "He told me that when he arrived in London, you were nearly bankrupt. That your bankers were suggesting mortgages and retrenchment. Is that so?"