To Syd’s surprise, Lady Harcourt suddenly quieted, her expression turning completely blank. It was as though her soul had abandoned her, leaving nothing but the shell of a woman before them.
“I will take her home now,” Lord Harcourt said, looking quite beaten down himself. “But Syd, my darling, precious girl…” He spoke with so much love in his voice. “I would like to introduce you to a very good friend of mine, His Grace, the Duke of Parkhurst.”
Syd turned to the duke, absorbing every one of his features as she sought sign of any resemblance between her and him. “An honor, Your Grace.”
The duke took her hand and bowed politely over it. “The honor is mine, Lady Thorne.”
He then invited her and Octavian to meet him for luncheon the following day. “We would be delighted,” Octavian responded for them both.
Lady Harcourt gasped. “You would honor this…this…by-blow? Has everyone turned against me? Am I to have no justice?”
“Lady Harcourt, in what possible way have you been hurt? There was no deception played on you. I have no idea what you seek, but it is not justice,” Parkhurst intoned.
Lady Harcourt ran out in tears.
“Papa…” Syd turned to run after her, but Harcourt stopped her.
“No, child. This is my mess to clean up. Enjoy the ball. All will be well.” He excused himself and took off after his wife.
Syd meant to follow, but Octavian gently held her back. “Syd, you cannot heal everyone’s wounds. Harcourt will treat her gently.”
She nodded. “He always has. Dear heaven, what a burden he’s carried all these years.”
Parkhurst eyed her as intently as she had eyed him moments ago. Was he looking for the same resemblance? “I will not take up more of your time now,” he said, “but I very much look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”
That said, he walked off to engage with others she assumed were friends he had not seen in a while.
She now turned to offer her apologies to Lord Winstone. “I am so truly sorry. If you wish me to leave, I–”
“No, Lady Thorne. You are welcome here. I am sorry that…I have no words for what we all just witnessed. Your mother, has she always been this unwell?”
Syd’s expression turned pained.
Lord Winstone grunted. “Ah, Lady Thorne. That look says it all.”
The remainder of the ball passed uneventfully, not even Clementine daring to cause more mischief for fear she would be equated with Lady Harcourt, a sad woman everyone now viewed as bordering on deranged.
Lady Winstone took Syd aside a moment. “My dear, please know how saddened we are by your mother’s ill health. Ithappens to some women, you know. As we age and our looks fade. The children grow up and leave home. We are left all alone in a big, rambling house, wondering what use we are to anyone now? Most of us adjust, but it affects some ladies quite badly. Your marriage to Captain Thorne must have sent her over the edge. In her mind, how else was she to deal with the loss of a dear daughter than by pushing her away first? By her illogical thinking, it made sense to deny that you were ever hers.”
Syd did not wish to disabuse Lady Winstone of her faulty conclusion. She meant it kindly, and Syd had no desire to invite more gossip by telling her the truth. “It is a sad turn of events,” she merely agreed. “Thank you for the explanation. It is very kind of you to offer it.”
Lady Winstone patted her hand. “You dear thing, I hope this helps you understand that you did nothing wrong. Now I shall send you back to your husband who seems eager to have you once more beside him. Oh, how I do adore a love match. There are so many marriages entered into for the sole purpose of increasing one’s wealth or enhancing one’s alliances. Is it any wonder there are so many unhappy couples? But it is a joy to see a marriage that is real.”
Syd returned to her husband’s side.
“What happened, Syd? What did she say to you?”
She placed her arm in his. “She said our marriage is not make-believe.”
Octavian snorted. “I could have told her that. Care to dance? The orchestra is playing another waltz.”
She nodded.
But he walked her away from the dance floor and toward the terrace. “Where are you taking me?”
“Outdoors. Under the moonlight. In truth, Syd, I just wanted to be out of that ballroom and in the cooler air. Or we could giveour apologies and leave now. I feel an extraordinary need to take you in my arms and hold you close.”
“I feel the same.” She cast him a wicked smile as she pointed toward some dense shrubbery along the stone wall running along the back of the garden. “Or you could justtakeme behind that row of bushes.”
