Callander Square - Anne Perry [54]
She flushed, feeling the heat in her face, under the sting of his contempt because she was no better than he, and she had permitted him to prove it.
“But,” he went on, “I should not claim it was I who had lain with her. I have a friend, not a servant; I’m afraid he is something of a rake—a gambler who has seen better times, but handsome, in a vulgar way, and with no lack of female friends. Most of them are whores, of course, but they find him attractive. Unfortunately,” his smile curled a little, “he has a disease.” His eyebrows rose, to question if she took his precise meaning.
Augusta shivered with revulsion.
“I should say,” Max continued, “that it was he who had seduced Miss Christina; or to be more correct, he would say so. There would be no connection with my misfortune, and it would be uncommon hard for you to disprove, and hardly worth it, I think. The damage would have been done. Men’s clubs, and so forth, spread the word; all very discreet, nothing open, nothing for you to deny. And if you charge me with theft, I swear it will happen.”
She was frightened, really frightened. There was a power in the man, and a certainty of his own victory. She struggled for something to say. Above all, she would not give in.
“And why should anyone believe that this disgusting friend of yours had ever even seen Christina,” she said slowly, “or that she would speak to him, let alone touch him?”
“Because he will be able to describe this house, in detail, her bedroom, even to the decorations on her bed—”
“Which you know!” she said quickly. “He could have got it from some housemaid easily enough. There is nothing to that,” she felt a quick resurgence of hope.
His eyes were slow, moist, raking her over.
“She has a mole under her left breast,” he said distinctly, “and a scar on her buttock, also the left, as I remember. You will say I also knew that, but I doubt the housemaid does. Do you take my point, my lady?”
It took her the greatest effort of will she could remember not to shout at him, to let go of her temper, her rage and frustration, and scream, “Get out, out of my sight!” She took a deep breath, and summoned a lifetime of discipline.
“Yes, I take your point,” she said quietly, her voice very nearly steady. “You may go.”
He turned, then hesitated at the door.
“You will inform your relations in Stirlingshire that I shall not be coming, my lady?”
“I shall. Now go.”
He bowed very slightly, still smiling.
“Thank you, my lady.”
As soon as the door was closed she gave way. For nearly five minutes she sat and let the shudders of disgust and anger pass through her. To be bested by a servant, a footman with morals of the gutter! She would never forget his hot, familiar eyes on her. To think that Christina had voluntarily lain with this—creature! That she could even now be with his child. It was not to be endured. She must pull herself together. Something must be done. She could not now think how to get rid of Max, but she must at least make absolutely sure that he never touched Christina again. From this hour onward Christina’s behavior must be perfect. Max would not use his trump card unless forced, unless he had nothing to lose by it: because he had only the one play. In ruining her he would ruin himself, therefore he would not press Christina if she treated him with total disinterest from now on. And most certainly Augusta intended to see that she did!
She stood up and composed herself. There was no further purpose in Christina’s remaining in bed. She was perfectly recovered. She might as well get up and resume her normal life: in fact better that she should, before there was too much speculation as to what condition kept her out of society. If by some disaster she should prove to be with child, Augusta would have to see that she was married as soon as possible, and hope that the birth could be passed off as premature. Fortunately Christina was as dark as Max, so if the child were equally dark there would be no comment. In fact it might be as well if Christina were to be married at