Birdsley’s wife had run off with the Italian he’d hired to paint her portrait, and that eighty-year-old Lord Einestower’s son and heir had been born with hair as red as his Scots gardener’s when both Einestower and his nineteen-year-old bride had hair as black as any chimney sweep.”
“You know very well which one,” Lady Carlisle said haughtily. “Your goddaughter, Miss Fabergine, was seen in a compromising situation with Lord Wessex.”
Lucia shrugged, spreading jam on one of her toast points. “She kissed Lord Wessex. Rather, he kissed her. I’ll guess you did as much when you were nineteen, Edith. I wouldn’t put it past you to have done so since.”
“How dare you!”
Lucia took a bite of her toast. “It was a kiss, nothing more.”
“She was seen, alone, in the billiards room with a man.”
“For heaven’s sake, Edith, if you want to evoke these preposterous unwritten rules of London society, one could say Lord Wessex is a distant cousin.”
Lady Carlisle patted the corners of her lips with her napkin. “We have absolutely no proof of that. I never heard a word last night at the party about your goddaughter having any connection whatsoever to the Wessex family.”
Lucia tossed her toast on her plate. “Edith Carlisle, are you calling me a liar?”
“I am Lady Carlisle to you and I would not presume to say who speaks the truth and who does not. I’m simply stating that there is no proof that Sapphire Fabergine is related to the Thixton family in any way, and now that she has been caught in an unfortunate situation that could reflect badly on Lord Carlisle and me…”
Lucia could feel her face beginning to burn with anger. “Because we’re staying here?”
“I have no issue with you or Miss Angelique. She’s quite sweet, but…”
“But what, Edith?” Lucia demanded. “What are you trying to say? That Sapphire is no longer welcome in your household?”
“I asked Lord Carlisle to handle this unfortunate situation, but he was unable to—” she gulped water from a crystal glass “—remain here this morning to discuss the matter with you.”
“So you are putting us out, then?” Lucia exclaimed. “Simply come out and say it why don’t you.”
“As I said, I have no issue with you or—”
“So you would put out a girl not yet twenty years old?” Lucia leaned forward, pressing her hands on the polished table. “And where would you have Sapphire go? What would you have her do?”
Lady Carlisle leaned back in her chair as if unsure what her houseguest might do. “That really isn’t my concern. I suppose if she needs finances, she could set herself up as a woman in need of a protector. Obviously she’s that kind of young woman, as I suspected when we first met in Martinique.”
Lucia shoved her chair under the table. Armand hadn’t sent them with enough money to live on their own; such a need hadn’t been anticipated. But she didn’t care about the money. She’d prostituted herself once and she could do it again if she had to. She’d do that before she would allow Sapphire to be treated this way. “How dare you! We shall leave by noon.”
“You understand, she left us with no other recourse,” Lady Carlisle said.
“What I understand is that you, Edith, are not fit to wash Sapphire Thixton’s underclothing.” She whipped around to walk out, and then thinking better of her exit on an empty stomach, turned back, grabbed a toast point covered with jam and walked out of the dining room.
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