“Are you sure of that?” Percy asked. The words were cold and to the point, making Rebecca hang her head forward, burying her face in her hands. She knew well enough, more than most, that what a man sought was a dowry and reputation. She feared her father could be right.
“Percy, that is enough,” Amelia said, pleadingly. “We do not know that anything will come of this story. Rebecca and the Duke are merely friends, and if I am not mistaken, he did our daughter a great service in helping her out of the river, as well as bringing her back here in his carriage. It was an act of kindness.”
“An act of kindness that has started rumors,” Percy was bold as he gestured toward the butler, who was doing his best to hide the scandal sheet behind his back, as if he could get rid of the story by doing so.
“Father, what do you wish me to do?” Rebecca lowered her hands and stood to her feet, meeting her father’s gaze with resilience. “Whoever wrote the story has no gossip to follow, there is nothing to this story. It will pass over quickly, and all this fear will be for nothing.”
“I hope you are right, Rebecca, but I struggle to believe it.” He rounded the table another time, coming to face Rebecca. “There is one way you can sort your reputation and not have it affect your sister’s chance at a good marriage, though.”
“How?”
“Marry. As long as you are unmarried, the writers of such scandal sheets as these will draw you into any gossip they have going. You are a good target for them, being involved in a scandal before.”
“God’s wounds, father.” She turned away from him, desirous to put distance between them. “Who should I marry? Do you wish me to produce a husband out of thin air? Have you forgotten the last man ran away as soon as a better offer was made to him?”
Rebecca’s words brought a silence on the room. It was uncomfortable and stretched out for a long time, only broken when the snuffling sounds of Eliza were heard from across the table. Rebecca turned from her father and went to her sister, embracing her tightly.
“Do not fear, Eliza. Our father is overreacting.”
“I do not believe Lord Herberton would abandon our courtship after so small a story,” Eliza murmured against Rebecca’s shoulder, clearly struggling to speak through her tears.
“Neither do I.” Yet Rebecca gritted her teeth through the words, knowing it was possible. She had to hope that the Duke of Frampington was right, in that his friend cared for Eliza herself, rather than her name, position, or her dowry.
* * *
“They say a watched pot never boils, you know,” Rebecca tried to lighten the feeling in the hallway as she came across her sister sitting on the bottom step of the staircase, staring at the front door. Eliza looked up, evidently startled by her approach.
“He usually sends a message or a gift by this time. It is just odd that he hasn’t,” Eliza said, her tone somber, though she returned her gaze to the door quickly.
“Please have no fear, Eliza,” Rebecca tried to comfort her sister. “I am sure something will come.”
“I hope you are right.”
As Rebecca came to sit beside Eliza, the two of them held hands in perfect silence. It was a mark of sisterly comfort and love, one that didn’t need words.
“Do you think Father is right?” Eliza asked after a minute. “Have men called off betrothals after such trivial stories?”
“Perhaps,” Rebecca knew it was not the time for the truth. “Let me give you comfort though. Remember, the story was fishing for details, it may have suggested I was the Duke’s lover, but it also suggested I could be his bride. It hinted at scandal, but it did not declare scandal. I think it unlikely to scare Lord Herberton away. Especially when I think of the way that man looks at you.”
“Do not tease me,” Eliza said with a sad sort of smile.
“I am not teasing you right now,” Rebecca was insistent. “Quite the contrary. He looks at you as if you are the sun itself. That is quite good. I must write it down for another of my poems.”
“Can I read them yet?” Eliza asked with hope.
“Not yet. They are not done yet.”
Before any more could be said between them, there was a knock at the door. The butler appeared through a nearby doorway and went to open it, just as Rebecca and Eliza stood from their step.
In the doorway was the same delivery boy from before.
“For Lady Eliza, Sir,” the boy proffered forward a wrapped-up gift. “From Lord Herberton.”
Eliza instantly smiled and hurried forward.
“I knew he would not be frightened by such a story!” she declared happily, taking the gift from the boy. “My, it is big. What do you think it is?”
Even as Eliza placed it on the hall table, she was unwrapping it, not giving Rebecca the time to answer with a guess.
