Lady Griffith's Second Chance

Chapter Sixteen

She would wait to speak to him in person before she would allow herself to believe a word of it.

This was what Regan told herself. She knew how poisonous gossip could be, how easily a few words whispered in the correct ear could destroy a reputation down to its foundations. Of course, she also knew that it was more difficult to demolish a man's reputation than that of a woman. Men could sow their oats, so to speak, make a mistake, sire a few children out of wedlock and have those pernicious whispers of gossip remain as nothing more than a sibilant hiss in the background of their existence.

She could not wrap her thoughts around what Lord Hays had told her. Was there any manner of truth to the tale? Had Thomas seduced and then abandoned a young lady, leaving her ruined and burdened with the care of his bastard child?

Bastard...

The word rolled around in her mouth, leaving an unpleasant taste at the back of her throat. Illegitimate would be a kinder phrase, but the former did a better job of expressing her current feelings.

For who really was the bastard? The child born out of wedlock, or the man who had fathered the poor soul in the first place?

Her footsteps sounded softly on the carpet. She glanced down, worried she had begun to wear a strip through the fibers and down to the floor beneath, but there was a slight flattening visible where she had taken to pacing back and forth, back and forth for the last few...

She turned her head and sought out the clock on the mantel. An hour? No, it could not have been so long already, could it?

The window. That was it. She needed some air. The sill pressed against her hips as she leaned forward, her forehead against the glass, nostrils flaring as she inhaled deeply, drawing in as much of the fresh, evening air as her lungs could contain. But it was not enough. She reached down and grasped the edge of the window, forcing it further open until the gap was large enough she could bend forward and dive through it if she'd been so inclined.

It had been four days since he'd left her. Four days since Lord Hays had accused Thomas of seducing his ward and then running away without a care for the mess he'd left behind. Three days for too many thoughts to tumble about inside her head, all of it churning together until she wished she could siphon out half of it just to have her mind to herself again.

And what if Lord Hays was lying? She always went back to that, once she'd worked through an assortment of visions featuring Thomas and some faceless girl, left to cradle a crying babe in her arms, one that looked remarkably like his supposed father. But what would be the reasoning behind it? To discredit Thomas in her eyes? Because Lord Hays had seen the attention Thomas had paid to her and so thought it a cunning way to clear the field before him? Because... Because Lord Hays wanted her for himself?

She almost laughed at the absurdity of it. To think that one man would go so far as to ruin the character of another merely in pursuit of her attention. As if she were important enough to elicit such behavior from a gentleman.

Now, then. She tugged at her gloves, reached up to adjust the deflated puff of her left sleeve. Dinner. There would be no avoiding it. She turned away from the window and crossed towards Katharine's door. A light knock, and Katharine herself opened the door mere seconds later.

"Mama! Your headache, then? You are quite recovered?"

Regan twisted her mouth. There had been no headache. Even Katharine knew there had been no headache, but she was kind enough to cling to the falsehood and allow her mother a bit of privacy while her thoughts whirled.

"I cannot hide away forever. I am a guest. I am supposed to be your chaperone, though Lady Polmerol seems to have done a great deal to take you under her wing."