The thought of parting with it made the tears burn in Augusta's eyes, but she told herself she deserved the anguish. She had been a fool and now she must pay the price.
"Augusta, are you quite certain there is nothing wrong?" Harry asked again.
"Quite certain, my lord." The lobster pattie tasted like sawdust, she noticed.
Harry's brow rose slightly. "You would, of course, feel free to tell me if anything serious was troubling you, would you not, my dear?"
"That would depend, my lord."
"On what?" There was an unexpected hint of steel in Harry's normally unemotional voice.
Augusta shifted restlessly in her chair. "On whether or not I thought you might be inclined to respond in a kind, understanding, and helpful manner."
"I see. And if you feared I would not respond in such a manner?"
"Then I would no doubt refrain from telling you a single blasted thing, sir."
Harry's eyes narrowed slightly. "Need I remind you we are engaged, Augusta?"
"You do not need to remind me of that fact, my lord. I assure you it is usually at the forefront of my mind these days."
There was only one place to go for advice on how to proceed with the business of pawning a valuable necklace. The day after the shocking disaster in the card room, Augusta went straight to Pompeia's.
The door was opened by a grouchy Scruggs, who peered at her from beneath his bushy brows.
"It's you, is it, Miss Ballinger? I suppose you know the members are all busy settling the wagers they made regarding your engagement."
"I am glad to hear that someone is gaining something out of it," Augusta muttered as she went past him. She paused in the hall, recalling the medicine she had brought him a few days earlier. "I almost forgot. Did the tonic help your rheumatism, Scruggs?"
"The tonic worked miracles after I followed it with a bottle of Lady Arbuthnott's best brandy. Unfortunately, I could not induce any of the housemaids to assist me in testing the remainder of the cure."
Augusta smiled briefly in spite of her low mood. "I am glad to hear that."
"This way, Miss Ballinger. Madam will be pleased to see you, as usual." Scruggs opened the doors to Pompeia's.
There were a handful of ladies in the club, most busy reading the newspapers or scribbling away at the writing tables. The gossip concerning the scandalous love lives of both Byron and Shelley had only fueled the determination of the club's aspiring writers to get themselves published.
It was odd how virtue, or the lack thereof, could affect one, Augusta reflected. Byron's or Shelley's distinctly unvirtuous romantic liaisons might very well produce just the inspiration needed by one of Pompeia's members to get her own work into print.
Augusta swept through the room, heading straight for the hearth. There was a cheerful blaze going, as usual, although the day was pleasant. Sally seemed to always be cold these days. She was in her chair near the fire and, fortunately for Augusta, she was temporarily without company. A book lay open on her lap.
"Hello, Augusta. How are you today?"
"Perfectly miserable. Sally, I have gotten myself into a terrible situation and I have come to beg your advice." Augusta sat down close to the older woman and leaned over to whisper. "I want you to tell me how one goes about pawning a necklace."
"Oh, dear, this does sound serious." Sally closed her book and gazed inquiringly at Augusta. "Perhaps you had better tell me everything right from the beginning.
"I have been a perfect idiot."
"Yes, well, we all are, sooner or later. Now, why don't you tell me the tale? I confess I have been a trifle bored this afternoon."
Augusta took a deep breath and explained the disaster in all its unpleasant detail. Sally listened attentively and then nodded in complete understanding.
"Of course you must settle the debt, my dear," she said. "It is a matter of honor."
"Yes, precisely. I have no choice."
"And your mother's necklace is the only thing of value you have to pawn?"
"I fear so. All my other jewelry has been given to me by Uncle Thomas and I would not feel right selling it."
"You do not feel you could go to your uncle and request his assistance in this?"
"No. Uncle Thomas would be vastly overset by this entire mess and I could not blame him. He would be extremely disappointed in me. A thousand pounds is a great deal of money. He has been far too generous already."
"He will be getting a considerable sum in marriage settlements from Graystone," Sally pointed out dryly.
Augusta blinked in surprise. "He will?"
"I believe so.
"I did not know that." Augusta scowled. "Why is it that men never discuss that sort of thing with the women involved? They treat us as if we were feebleminded. No doubt doing so makes them feel superior to us."
Sally smiled. "That may be part of it, but I think there is more to it than that. I believe, at least in the case of men such as your fiance and your uncle, that they act the way they do because they feel protective."
"Rubbish. But be that as it may, the settlements, whatever they are, will not be made for another four months. I cannot wait that long. I have the distinct impression that Lovejoy will begin hounding me for repayment very soon.
"I see. And you do not feel you could take this matter to Grays tone?"
Augusta stared at her, utterly aghast. It took her several seconds to close her mouth. "Tell Graystone I lost a thousand pounds to Lovejoy? Are you mad? Have you any notion of how he would react to such information? I cannot even bear to contemplate the explosion that would take place if I were to confess this to him.
"You may have a point. He would not be pleased, would he?"
"I could probably tolerate his displeasure," Augusta said slowly. "Who knows? It might even convince him to let me cry off the engagement. But I could never in a million years endure the humiliation of having to explain to him that in my desire to teach him a lesson I made a complete fool of myself."
"Yes, I can fully comprehend that. A woman has her pride. Let me consider this for a moment." Sally idly tapped the leather binding of the book in her lap. "I believe the simplest way to handle this is for you to bring the necklace to me."
"To you? But I must pawn it, Sally."
"And so you shall. But it is very difficult for a lady to pawn an expensive item without the business going unnoticed by someone. If you bring the necklace to me, on the other hand, I can send Scruggs to the pawnbroker's for you. He will keep his silence."
"Oh, I see what you mean." Augusta leaned back in her chair, somewhat relieved. "Yes, that would work. It is very kind of you to assist me in this, Sally. How can I ever repay you?"
Sally smiled and for a moment her fine-boned features held a hint of the radiant beauty that had once made her the toast of London. "It is I who am happy to be able to repay you in some small way for all you have done for me, Augusta. Now run along and fetch your mother's necklace. You shall have your thousand pounds by nightfall."
"Thank you." Augusta paused and gave her friend a searching glance. "Tell me, Sally, do you think it is possible that Lord Lovejoy used the conversation about investigating my brother's death to lure me into deep play? I am not trying to excuse myself, but one cannot help but wonder…"
"I think it entirely possible. Some men are extremely unscrupulous. He probably sensed your weakness and used it to distract you."
"He never meant a word of his promise to help me prove Richard was not a traitor, did he?"
"I think it highly unlikely. How could he? Augusta, you must be realistic about the matter. Nothing will bring back Richard and there is no way you can ever clear his name except in your own heart. You know he was innocent and you must be satisfied with that inner knowledge."