Ventnor brandished his stick at her. “Do not muddy the waters. I only wanted my daughter to receive proper care. It was never my intention to cause her harm.”
“Indeed, my lord.” Sally made a show of thinking. “I recall you said as much to me. You said, and I quote, ‘I never meant for Katharine to die.’”
“Yes. Yes!” Ventnor was nodding his head furiously. “Well done, my dear. An actress, of course, will remember the exact words. Exactly what I said.”
“Then you said, ‘Her death was not the solution I intended, but it was a solution nonetheless.’”
Gasps of horror echoed across the room. Ventnor looked about wildly, lips moving in protestations he had no chance to speak.
“Get a soul,” Sally hissed, advancing on him. “You destroy things, beautiful things, because you are incapable of seeing their beauty. You failed to see the beauty of your own daughter’s life, because all you saw was your own fear and shame. You fail to see the beauty of love, because all you see is the dried, shriveled husk of your own unused heart. What a pitiful creature you are.”
The air was taut with embarrassment. Something flickered in the viscount’s pale eyes, the last hope of a man who did long to see beauty. A final hope that guttered and died, and once more, Ventnor sneered.
“Ignore this woman. She is a…a Sapphist!”
Sally regarded him coolly. “That did not bother you when you were my patron.” She turned to the audience. “He offered his patronage so I would not reveal that he tried to kidnap his own daughter. But I can speak of it now, because he withdrew his patronage. He withdrew it by sending his ruffian to chase me away from London, under the threat of carving up my face.”
The crowd was murmuring and muttering, uncertain, uncomfortable.
Straightening, Lord Ventnor wrapped his dignity around him like a cloak. “I am a peer of this realm. Am I to be tried thus, as a piece of theatre, and not in the House of Lords as is my due?”
“Enough,” agreed the Duke of Sherbourne. “The Prince Regent will arrive soon, and it would be tedious to explain this farce to him. We will review these accusations later. Lords, ladies, and gentlemen, please return to your festivities. I declare tonight’s theatre closed.”
Thea was almost light-headed with triumph when Rafe leaped off the stage and took her hands.
“Now that’s done, let’s go,” he said.
She squeezed his fingers. “You were magnificent. Will anything happen to Ventnor, do you think?”
“Hard to say. The privilege of peerage protects him from punishment for most crimes.”
“That’s so unfair! I wish he could rot on the other side of the world.”
“Many wish the same. I’ll see what I can do. But we have a more important matter to attend to tonight, so let’s get Nicholas and go.”
Before they could speak to the bishop, a couple stepped across their path: Ma and Pa. Thea stopped short. She curled one arm around Rafe’s. He wove his fingers between hers.
“By my buttons!” Pa said, a grin splitting his face. “What an extraordinary evening this has been.”
“Oh Thea, what a to-do!” Ma patted Thea’s shoulder. “Why did you not tell us you had married the earl? This changes everything.”
They were beaming at her. Beaming! A faint growl sounded from Rafe’s throat.
“You turned me out,” Thea reminded them softly. “Twice.”
Ma’s smile faded, sorrow shadowing her face. “Thea, darling. We didn’t know the truth.”
“You refused to listen.”
“Dearest Thea,” Pa said, his eyes earnest. “I wish you would forgive us. Such foolish mistakes we made.”
Thea looked from one to the other, her fingers digging into Rafe’s palm. “Do you come to me because you truly regret not believing me and supporting me, or because he is an earl?”
Stark silence blanketed them. Thea was still searching for words when Helen joined them. Helen placed one hand on Thea’s shoulder, one on Ma’s.
“Please forgive them, Thea,” Helen said. “They are our parents.”
“Perhaps one day I shall forgive you, but it will not be tonight,” Thea replied. “I have another family now.”
Helen’s hand slipped away as Thea turned her back on her parents. She concentrated on Rafe’s solidity at her side, as he guided her back to Arabella and the bishop.
“I’m tired of this blasted costume party,” Rafe said. “Can we go home?”
“Best if we did.” The bishop’s eyes twinkled as he whispered, “Now we’ve lied to, well, everyone, we had better get you two married.”