“Lucy told me all about it.”
He stared at her. “So you did know all along. I knew it!”
“Yes. Now drink your coffee, Gerald, and I’ll explain the whole thing. And I hope I can trust you to keep a confidence.”
He didn’t like that, she saw, but the appeal to his gentlemanly instincts did its job. He gave a curt nod. “Of course.”
Alice explained the situation: the unexpected appearance of Octavius Bamber, the blackmail, Bamber’s requirement that Alice sponsor Lucy’s come-out, the baptism—everything. It was quite a relief to get it all out in the open, even if it was to a disapproving nephew.
When she’d finished, he said, “These letters, Aunt Alice, are they, er...?”
“Deeply embarrassing. You don’t need to know any more.”
“No, no, of course not,” he said, reddening. No doubt his imagination was working overtime, but she couldn’t help that. She had no intention of explaining their contents to anyone.
“Well, the solution to that is obvious. I’ll confront that swine Bamber and force him to give the letters up, and then you can be rid of that girl and—”
“And how, pray, will you find Bamber?” His assumption that it was all so easily fixed was irritating.
He looked at her in surprise. “Don’t you know where he lives?”
“No, of course not. Otherwise I would have acted sooner.”
“I’ll ferret him out,” Gerald said confidently.
“I wish you would try. But be warned, even Lucy has no idea how to contact her father.”
“Her! She’d lie her way out of anything.”
“I believe her, Gerald. I admit, I disliked and resented her at first, but I’ve come to know her better, and I believe she’s almost as much a victim in this as I am.”
He gave a scornful snort. “You’re too softhearted for your own good, Aunt Alice.”
“Lucy has no desire to enter society, no desire to marry a lord.”
“Hah! So she claims.”
“You must admit she’s been at pains not to attractyou. Perhaps that’s the reason why you—”
He frowned. “Why I what?”
Alice shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.” Gerald had taken an unusual amount of interest in Lucy—the two seemed to strike sparks off each other whenever they met, and Alice didn’t think it was just about a race and a goose.
With almost every young unmarried miss in London falling over herself to please and flatter Gerald, the one girl who showed no interest in him whatsoever was bound to stand out.
She continued, “The point is, Lucy had as little say in the situation as I did. I like the girl, Gerald, and I want to help her as best I can. But I will need your assistance.”
“My assistance? Aunt Alice, this is ridiculous. I have no intention of helping—”
“Me?” Alice interjected. “You won’t helpmeout of this situation, Gerald?” She waited.
He looked uncomfortable. “It’s not that, I just—”
“Just what?”
“Dash it, Aunt Alice, I don’t want her getting away with it.”
“Getting away with what? She’s as stuck as I am. If this gets out, we’ll both be disgraced. It won’t matter as much to me,” she lied. Other people’s good opinion had always been important to her. “My situation will remain unchanged, though it will be embarrassing and uncomfortable for a time. But imagine the repercussions for Lucy, a girl with no fortune, no home and no family—unless you count her scoundrel of a father, which I don’t. From all I can make out, he has a history of dumping her with strangers and leaving her to sink or swim.”
