Peter felt rocked by Georgiana’s sudden revelation of her secret. But Selina didn’t miss a beat. “It might be hard to find them,” she said. “They’re so popular, it’s difficult for me to keep them on the shelves.”
“You’re lying,” Alverthorpe said.
“I’ve lied enough.” Georgiana looked her father in the eye. “I’ve written six hugely popular Gothic novels.” He started to reply, but she spoke over him. “Yes—even though I am a Cleeve. Even though I am the daughter of an earl. And if you threaten the Stanhopes again, I will tell everyone in thetonwhat I’ve done.”
Alverthorpe laughed in her face. “You’d destroy yourself? For them?”
“I’ve been destroying myself for eighteen years,” she said, “for you. I’ve had enough.”
Lady Alverthorpe was staring between the two of them, tears painting silvery streaks down the sides of her face. “Georgie,” she whispered, “don’t.”
Georgiana turned to her and, for the first time, looked vulnerable. “Mother,” she said, “come with me.”
“Try it,” said Alverthorpe. “See what happens when you’re all alone.” His voice was thick with derision. “See how well you’ll live with no money—noton, no friends—”
“They won’t be alone,” Selina said.
“You?” he spat. “A whore masquerading as a duchess?”
Peter felt fury trembling within him but held it back. “They won’t be alone,” he echoed. “They have us.”
And from behind him, he heard a quiet female voice. “And us.”
He turned. It was Lydia Hope-Wallace, looking sick with terror, surrounded by her four older brothers like a protective wall.
“How many dukes do you think you can cut and still expect to be received?” Nicholas Ravenscroft emerged from behind another row of books, his wife’s arm in his.
And there, coming up another aisle, was Iris—looking mildly affronted at being dragged into a public space—and her parents, the Viscount and Viscountess Duggleby.
Thomasin Dandridge. Lady Judith, her mouth quirked in a sardonic line.
“You bastards think you can get away with anything,” hissed Alverthorpe. His eyes darted around the library.
“No,” Lady Judith said. “It’s men like you who get away withthings, Alistair. For years and years and years. And we’re saying that it’s gone on long enough.”
“We’re not alone,” Selina said to him. “You are.”
“I’ve had enough.” The earl yanked his wife toward him. “Let’s go.”
Lady Alverthorpe stared at his fingers wrapped around her upper arm but didn’t move.
“Come on, damn you!” Alverthorpe tried to pull her along with him, and she nearly stumbled, her arm breaking free from his grasp.
“No,” she said, her voice nearly inaudible. “I’m staying with Georgie.”
“The hell with you, then!” Alverthorpe’s face was mottled with rage. “The hell with all of you!”
As one, the Ravenscrofts closed ranks around Georgiana and the countess. Peter wrapped his arms around Selina, heedless of the rest of the patrons in Belvoir’s.
And the Earl of Alverthorpe stormed out of the library alone.
They had the rest of the afternoon to put on a brave face for the gossipmongers who flocked to the library, to act as though the encounter with the earl and his family had never happened.
Selina, of course, managed it like a dream. She bustled Georgiana and her mother off to the Hope-Wallace house, whispering instructions to Lydia that seemed to involve both significant sums of money and all of their favorite scandalous ladies of theton. Possibly a house in Gloucestershire, but Peter wasn’t quite sure.
But when Belvoir’s closed its doors for the evening, Selina half fell into his arms.
He held on hard.
