“I told my aunt I was coming home with you, and I told your mother the opposite, so I think we are safe to leave,” Emily murmured.
“Good.”
Emily’s grip tightened. “Lucinda, what happened?”
She shook her head. “I can’t accompany you home, Emily. Where else can we go?”
Emily frowned. “I’ll take you to my stepmother’s. You’ll be safe there. Can you walk?”
“I’ll have to.” Lucinda struggled to her feet.
“Oh, my goodness, Lucinda,” Emily whispered. “There is blood on your gown.”
“I fell. Just help me leave this place.” Lucinda grabbed hold of Emily’s arm and started toward the bottom of the garden. She could only hope that Jeremy had returned to the ball and would not see how low he had brought her. She would never let him see that, never. With Emily’s help, she managed to climb into the cab and leaned heavily against the side. Her whole body hurt; especially between her legs where he had . . . She pushed that thought away and forced her eyes open.
It seemed only a moment before Emily was opening the door of the cab and calling for someone named Ambrose to help her. Lucinda gasped as an unknown man carefully picked her up and carried her into the large mansion. Emily ran ahead, issuing instructions as she led the way up the stairs to a large, well-appointed bedchamber. The man gently deposited Lucinda on the bed and went to light some of the candles and the fire.
Lucinda curled up into a tight ball and closed her eyes, shutting out Emily and everything that had happened to her. It was impossible not to remember. She started to shake again.
A cool hand touched her forehead, and she reluctantly focused on her unknown visitor.
“I’m Helene, Emily’s stepmother. Everyone else has left, including Emily. Will you let me help you?”
Lucinda stared into the beautiful face of Madame Helene Delornay, one of London’s most notorious women, and saw only compassion and understanding in her clear blue eyes.
Helene smiled. “I know this is difficult for you, my dear, but I need to see how badly he hurt you.”
“No one hurt me. I slipped on the steps and . . .”
Helene gently placed her finger over Lucinda’s mouth. “You can tell everyone else whatever tale you want, but I know what has happened to you, and I want to help you.”
“How do you know?” Lucinda whispered.
“Because it happened to me.” Helene sat back. “Now, let’s get you out of that gown and into bed.”
She talked gently to Lucinda while she helped her remove her torn gown and undergarments, brought her warm water to wash with, and ignored the flow of tears Lucinda seemed unable to stop.
When she was finally tucked in under the covers, Helene sat next to her on the bed.
“Thank you,” Lucinda whispered.
Helene took her hand. “It was the least I could do.” She paused. “Now, do you want to tell me what happened?”
“All I know is that I am quite ruined.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
Lucinda blinked. “I’m no longer a virgin. What man would have me now?”
“A man who loves you and understands that what happened was not your fault.”
“But it was my fault. I went into the gardens with him alone, I let him kiss me, I begged him to kiss me.”
“You also asked him to force himself on you?”
“No, I couldn’t stop him, he was stronger than me and . . .”
“Exactly, so you can hardly take the blame for what happened, can you?” Helene patted her hand. “The fault is his. I assume he imagines you will be forced to marry him now.”