“Beatrice!” her voice cracked through the hall like a whip. “We are leaving. Now.”
Beatrice, who had been chatting with a group of friends, looked up in confusion—but Caroline could see by her sister’s expression that between her mother’s fury and Caroline’s own mortified expression, that Beatrice understood something was very wrong. She muttered excuses to her friends before joining her mother and sister, her voice low.
“Mother? Caroline? What on earth is going on?”
The countess did not answer—she simply led her daughters to the carriage silently. “Your father had to return home for work,” the countess explained coldly. “Thankfully. We are going home. Now.”
Beatrice, the only one out of the loop, looked at her family confusedly, but rather than ask questions, she got into the carriage silently.
A heavy, suffocating silence filled the carriage. Caroline could feel the weight of her mother’s disappointment permeating the air and she looked down, her lower lip trembling slightly.
“What happened?” Beatrice asked at last, and her mother’s gaze snapped towards her youngest daughter.
“Well?” she said sharply, her rage palpable. “Are you going to tell your sister what you did?”
Caroline swallowed dryly, then took a deep breath—bracing herself for the inevitable fallout she knew would follow her admission. “It was a misunderstanding, really,” she started, her voice small. “I was outside to get some fresh air, and Lord Casterbridge happened to wander outside… of course we were not going to stay out there alone, it was entirely improper…”
Beatrice looked at her sister coolly and Caroline let out a shuddering breath before she continued. “On our way back to the hall, I… I tripped,” she explained. “My heel got caught in my dress and I lost my balance and Lord Sebastian caught me before I could fall, that’s all. Really, Beatrice. That is all, I swear.”
Geraldine scoffed at this, then shook her head in disbelief. “That is not what it looked like to me,” she said icily. “And it is not what it looked like to anyone else who saw you! What we saw, what all of us saw, was you draped over a man, Caroline! Your sister’s fiancé, no less!”
Beatrice’s eyes widened at that, and her face paled as she looked at Caroline. “Is this true?” she asked, a broken whisper, her voice barely audible over the sound of the carriage wheels.
Caroline looked back at her sister desperately. She could feel her heart sinking at the betrayal and hurt in her sister’s eyes. “Beatrice,” she pleaded softly, “Please. Please, you have to believe me. It was not like that at all. You know me. You know I would never…”
Geraldine, however, did not allow her daughter to give excuses. “Enough,” she exclaimed, her voice rising in anger. “I know what I saw, Caroline. And so did everyone else at the ball! Do you have any idea what this could mean to our family? To your name?”
Caroline felt tears stinging at the corners of her eyes. It was a mere misunderstanding, she wanted to yell. She could not for the life of her understand why no one would believe her.
“Beatrice…” she started again, but for the first time ever, her sister merely turned her head away, her eyes closed.
Caroline looked down at her hands, her fingers entangled on her lap.
It was not fair. She knew without doubt that the ton would be buzzing with gossip about this for weeks—perhaps even months. And Beatrice… oh, Beatrice, she knew, would never forgive her.
The horses whinnied as the carriage came to a stop in front of their estate. Geraldine wasted no time—climbing quickly from the carriage, her nails digging into Caroline’s skin as she dragged her daughter inside—Beatrice trailing silently behind.
“Mother…”
Geraldine paid no mind to Caroline’s voice, merely dragging her to her father’s study, slamming the heavy oak door shut behind them as they entered.
William looked up from his desk and his brow furrowed in confusion at the sight of his wife and daughters. “What is wrong?” he asked immediately, rising to his feet. “What happened?”
“Your daughter,” Geraldine exclaimed in a scathing tone, “was caught… in the arms of your other daughter’s fiancé, that is what happened.”
William looked from Caroline to Geraldine and back to Beatrice slowly.
“Father,” Caroline offered meekly, “It was a mere misunderstanding, I tripped and fell…”
William’s face grew dark, however, her words seemingly falling on deaf ears. His eyes flashed with anger as he finally settled his gaze on Caroline.
“I have heard stories,” he said slowly as he moved to sit down again. “I have heard stories about Sebastian Fairchild. Rumors, I thought. Stories of past dalliances and impropriety. But I had assumed that even if they were true, he would settle down now that he was to marry Beatrice. It seems I was mistaken.”
Caroline could feel her heart sinking at her father’s words. Of course, she too had heard that Sebastian had quite the reputation—but she had paid it no mind, seeing as he had only ever been the perfect gentleman in their short meetings.
Even if a part of her wished that he’d proven his reputation right.
Still—she was certain that her father would not end the engagement with Beatrice over a silly misunderstanding. However, by the way her father was talking, it seemed that he was already convinced of Sebastian’s guilt—and of her own.
