He couldn’t think of that now.
“You are a liar and a cheat!” the woman cried, her voice ringing out all around them. “All those sweet things you promised me, and then you abandoned me. Abandoned us.” She had stopped in front of him, quivering with emotion.
Harry reached out, but she flinched away, turning to her audience, which was growing rapidly. Nothing like a scandal to draw a crowd. She began to tear his character to shreds in lurid detail while he stood there, resigned, letting it all wash over him.
Adam had given him the basic scenario and told him he didn’t need to do much, that the other player in this piece of theatre would carry the show.
He wanted to look at Sophy again, to convey to her somehow that this wasn’t true, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t be sure she had understood his hint from the past, but he didn’t want to risk involving her in this now that it had started. She must not be tainted by any breath of scandal. Again he berated himself for asking her to dance, but he hadn’t been able to help himself. What if he never had another chance to hold her, to tell her how much he loved her? His selfish desire, not to mention his arrogance, had outweighed the risk. Harry always needed to win.
“Baillieu?” The Marquis had arrived, taking in the situation with a world weary glance. No doubt it wasn’t the first time one of his breakfasts had been interrupted by a guest’s impending disgrace. “Will you come with me? Perhaps we can find somewhere a little quieter. I’m sure you and your … this lady have much to discuss. In private, eh?”
The baby decided to let out a wail, drawing even more attention to them. The whispers around him were gathering strength. It was just as he’d wanted but it was no less unpleasant to be at the centre of it. Harry straightened his shoulders and reminded himself that when it was over he would be able to rearrange his life in the way he longed to, rather than the way his father demanded.
He turned to follow the Marquis but suddenly Oscar was there, pushing through the crowd, and in his wake came Evelyn. She stopped beside Adam, staring at the scene white faced. Just for a moment their eyes locked before they both looked away. There was a steely determination in her expression. Though it was too late to stop what was to come, it was good to know they were both in this together.
“What is all this?” Oscar’s face was red with rage, now only inches from his own. His nostrils flared like a bull’s and he was clenching his fists at his sides. “Who is this woman?”
The Marquis tried to intervene, to once again lead them away, but Oscar would have none of it.
Adam spoke up. “They aren’t married,” he said. “At least … you didn’t marry her, did you Harry? You bloody fool, I told you not to!”
“She’s the daughter of one of my father’s tenant farmers,” Harry said, sounding as shaken as he felt. “Surely, you can understand,” he went on, blandly meeting Oscar’s enraged glare. “You’re a man of the world, Albury. One does these things but it doesn’t mean anything. I am marrying Evelyn.”
“He did marry me!” the woman burst out, tears on her cheeks. God, she was an outstanding actress. He hoped Adam was paying her well.
“Rubbish,” he said, standing firm.
Her voice wavered and despite knowing it was all lies, Harry found himself feeling sorry for her. She was that good. “There was a man who said he was a priest, and we spoke vows. Harry knew I wouldn’t lay with him if he didn’t marry me. I told him so. He-he said he loved me!”
Evelyn took out a lace handkerchief and put it to her eyes. “Oh Harry,” she cried accusingly. Oscar didn’t shift his gaze from Harry. The man was literally vibrating with rage.
“Rubbish,” Harry countered. “There was no priest, just someone I paid to play the part. I’m not that much of a fool,” he added with a cocky grin to infuriate Oscar even more.
Evelyn gave a sob, and even the well-mannered Marquis stared at him in disgust. Oscar spoke a foul word rarely heard in polite society, and drew back his fist.
The next thing Harry knew he was on the ground. Adam was shouting, pulling Oscar away, but not before he got several more blows in. When he finally saw through the fog in his brain, Evelyn’s eyes were as large as saucers, and the woman with the baby was watching with the satisfaction of a job well done.
“You will not come near my sister again,” Oscar was saying through clenched teeth. “You foul scum. You bounder. You don’t deserve to be in the same room as her. Your engagement is null and void as of this moment!”
It was exactly what he had wanted to hear. Harry reminded himself of that as he slumped back into the lush grass, hanging on to consciousness by a thread.
Thank God, he thought.
Adam put a hand on his shoulder, frowning at the blood running from his nose. “Hope this was worth it,” he heard his brother murmur, as he started to haul him to his feet.
Harry was in a coach now and Adam was once more peering into his face.
“How are you feeling?” he asked. “You look terrible.”
“Thank you,” he mumbled. “My face hurts.”
“I’m not surprised. There isn’t much of it left unbruised. I wonder if he broke your nose?”
“Feels like it.” Then, trying to pull himself together. “Did you see Evelyn?”
“Only briefly. She looked as shattered as one would expect.”
“As long as Oscar blames me for it, she should be safe from him,” Harry said, and took Adam’s handkerchief to wipe his bloody nose. It had dripped down onto his shirt and he grimaced at the sight. “I know you said we had to make it believable but …”