"She ran off with Havercroft's new coachman a few nights ago," he said. "A handsome devil, by all accounts. They did not get more than a dozen miles on their way to the Scottish border, though, before being caught and hauled back to town. At least, she was hauled back. The coachman, coward as he was, made his escape from a window at the inn where they were apprehended, and since his mashed remains were not discovered under it, it was assumed that he made his escape. Unfortunately, the two of them were seen by half the world before they were overtaken, and by now most of the other half of the world knows all about it too—with embellishments, I do not doubt. She is disgraced. Ruined. Illingsworth has withdrawn his suit, as one might expect, and no other man is stepping up to take his place. She will be fortunate if she can find a chimney sweep to marry her."
He flicked a spot of lint off the sleeve of his coat.
His father was staring at him, slack-jawed.
"Illingsworth has withdrawn?" he said. "He is as rich as Croesus, or his father the duke is, anyway. How is Havercroft going to manage now?"
It was widely known that the Earl of Havercroft had made some rash investments a few years ago and that in anticipation of making a huge profit from them he had undertaken extensive and exorbitantly expensive renovations to his country home last year. And then his investments had collapsed. All Season he had been single-mindedly courting Illingsworth for his daughter, his one remaining asset if he was to escape from dire financial straits.
"Ruined, is she?" Reggie's father said softly, and he smiled unseeingly into the middle distance.
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