Page 61 of Charity

Her cousin was not in attendance. He had sent word of his coming, and then sent a terse note later to decline. That he shunned the funeral was Oscar’s fault. Rumors had spread that he had all but moved into the Birkenstock townhouse, and his note had been scathing of Agatha’s character. He had withdrawn all financial support too.

They had become the scandal of the year.

Oscar shifted his weight from foot to foot. Winter was coming, if today’s chill was any indication. Agatha’s black-gloved hands kept clenching and unclenching until he could bear it no longer. He reached for her restless fingers and captured them in a tight grip. Agatha swayed until she leaned against his shoulder. She really should not have come, but he couldn’t persuade her otherwise. And because Agatha was here, so too was his stubborn mother.

Oscar doubted they could live this lapse of etiquette down anytime soon.

More than a few mourners frowned at Agatha, but not the people who loved her best. They knew how hard she grieved for Mr. Birkenstock, how easily tears had flowed over these last few days.

Lynton concluded his sermon and closed his prayer book as the coffin was lowered. His gaze flickered to their joined hands, then he circled the grave and led Agatha a little away from the other mourners to speak with her privately. As always, Oscar followed, but not too close—ready to offer support if she had need of him.

“She managed that far better than I expected,” his mother murmured as she caught up.

“Yes, but she trembled the entire time.” Oscar glanced at the muttering crowd. “She’ll need to rest when we return home.”

His mother offered him a weak smile. “Well, the worst is over now.”

The worst wasn’t over. “We’ll see.”

The mourners lined up to say farewell to Agatha. She did well, accepting everyone’s condolences, offering thanks for their coming in soft tones. Randall tipped his hat to her, but made no attempt at conversation. Oscar gestured to his mother to take his place with Agatha, and then moved toward Mr. Randall.

“Taking quite a risk with the lady’s reputation,” Randall remarked as they shook hands. “I should warn you that there is more than one person outraged by her presence and your behavior. You might find yourself out of favor with society.”

“We are already firmly out of favor.” Oscar shrugged. “It cannot be helped.”

Randall rubbed his chin. “I’m leaving London in a few days.”

“So soon?”

Randall crossed his arms over his chest. “So far, my search has come up empty. Even in the most unsavory of places. I take it you’ve had no luck, either.”

Oscar had forgotten Randall’s concerns in the wake of Birkenstock’s passing. He winced. “I’m so sorry. With everything that has happened, I have let you down.”

Randall stared over Oscar’s shoulder. “I’ll take the risk and return home to request an audience with the young duke. Perhaps the current duchess will be more forthcoming than her predecessor. One can only hope. Don’t worry about my concerns—your young lady needed you more.”

Oscar turned and spied Agatha alone by the graveside. He searched the lingering mourners and could see no sign of his father anywhere. His spirits fell. Manning must have been more upset with him than he’d let on. If memory served, he’d not spoken one word to his mother either.

His heart ached for Agatha. What a great mess he’d involved her in. She said little on the subject. Her sorrow consumed her. However scandalous the Carringtons might be now, Randall was correct. He’d done the right thing to put her first above all else. Society and their impatience be damned.

He turned back to Randall. “Leave your directions at my home before you go, and be sure to send a letter to let me know how you get on at Romsey. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll make the trip south. I swear it.”

Randall nodded with a quick dip of his head, but his eyes glassed. “Birkenstock was right about you. You are a true gentleman.”

That cut. He’d not done the right thing by Agatha before, not by any stretch of the imagination. But he would now. She was the only thing worth living for, and he would soon set her reputation to rights. “Safe journey, Randall.”

Randall stuck out his hand. “Best of luck to you both. Take care of her.”

“Count on it.” Oscar strode over to where Agatha stood with Lord Daventry at her side now. Oscar drew Agatha’s arm through his and moved her away from the grave again. He dipped his head to better see her expression. “All right, precious?”

Agatha let out a weary sigh. “I am now.”

Oscar turned to Daventry who had followed. “Might I impose upon you for the use of your largest carriage in the near future? We may need to take a long trip fairly soon.”

Daventry’s eyes narrowed. “How long a trip?”

Oscar thought it through. He’d never traveled to Scotland before, but he did think it a long and tiring journey. If they stopped frequently, Agatha’s spirits might be lifted by the fresh surroundings. “I think we should return in about a week to ten days.”

“A border wedding? Surely it shan’t come to that.” Daventry set his hand to Oscar’s shoulder and squeezed. “But about time you made an honorable woman out of her. Congratulations.”