Deliciously Wicked (16 page)

Meg smiled. Willow had indeed chastised her for such a thing already. But little did any of them know precisely how ruined she actually was.

“Then she would probably tell you that telling your father the truth was the only solution.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I think so. You could always pay her a visit and ask,” Charlotte said. “To make certain.”

“No. As much as I dearly love her and could use her counsel, I'm not certain I'm prepared for one of her lectures at the moment.” No doubt Willow would know the perfect decision for her to make, but Meg couldn't bring herself to ask.

“I understand. I'm sorry I couldn't be more helpful. I'm afraid this is a decision only you can make.”

Meg realized she was right. She was asking someone to make this decision for her because she was terrified she would make the wrong one. “You're right. I know you are. Perhaps I should go. Evidently I have some serious thinking to do. Tomorrow morning, I must tell my father whatever my decision is.” Meg had expected Charlotte to have a definite opinion, the perfect advice on what to do in this scenario. Her friend still had the capability of surprising her. Perhaps she was wise beyond her years.

“Best of luck. No matter what you decide, it will be the right choice.”

“Well, isn't that convenient.” She gave Charlotte a smile. She appreciated her friend's attempt at lightening her load. “One more question,” Meg said.

“Of course.”

“Should I tell Gareth?”

“Will he try to stop you?” Charlotte asked.

“Yes. Of that I am certain.”

He would definitely try to stop her. She acknowledged that his decision had the potential to change his life, but the odds of that happening were slim. It might change, but not to the degree hers would. His reputation wasn't in danger the way hers was. No one would give a second thought to him if he ruined her and then refused to marry her. At least no one who knew him.

“If you are, in fact, going to present this alibi to your father, then no, I wouldn't tell him.”

She nodded, then quickly hugged her friend. “Thank you.”

“Let me know what you decide.”

“I shall.” Meg stepped out onto the front steps of her
friend's house. She had much to decide and not much time to do it in. Charlotte was right not to offer too much advice. This was her decision and hers alone. And that was precisely how she'd make it.

M
eg stared at the mirror. She'd spent the better part of the morning arguing with her reflection, and that was after a relatively sleepless night tossing over the same decision. She knew now what she was going to do. It was the only decision to make, and she felt certain it was the right one. What she didn't know was the outcome of such action.

She would know soon. Telling her father across the breakfast table might not be the smartest plan, but perhaps some warm jam would brighten his mood. Granted, her father had always been rather indulgent with her, but she didn't suspect he would be in this situation. Instead, she expected he would be nothing less than severely disappointed.

As much as she loved her father, his disappointment did not matter nearly as much as the freedom of another man. And she was the only thing that stood between
Gareth and his position with Piddington Confectionery.

She took a deep breath, then stood. It was time.

 

 

Meg watched her father carefully and waited until his mouth was full before she spoke.

“I've labored long and hard over this, Papa, but have decided it is well past time that I be honest with you.
Gareth could not possibly have stolen those boxes that night because he was with me.” She said the words so quickly, they ran together. Uncertain if her father had understood her, she waited.

Lines of confusion wrinkled his forehead. He reached for his glass, so she spoke again.

“Alone, Papa. We were together alone.”

“Meg, what the devil are you talking about?” he finally sputtered.

“The night the chocolate boxes were stolen.”

“Yes, yes.” He waved his hand. “I gathered that much. But what is this nonsense about the two of you being alone together? You scarcely know the man.” And then as if he'd thought the worst, he came to his feet and threw the napkin on top of the table with such force that, had it been made of glass, it would have shattered. “Are you telling me that he took advantage of you?”

“No, nothing such as that. Do sit down. All will be well.”

He eyed her a moment more before falling back into his seat. “Continue,” he prodded.

“Yes, well, it was the night that you sent me to retrieve your ledger book. I heard a noise in the downstairs storeroom—the one the workers are using for their dressing room. I followed the noise, and when I went in the room to investigate, the door shut behind me and locked.”

Her father eyed her and then nodded. “And Mr. Mandeville was already in the room?”

“Yes.”

“Why was he in there so late, did he say?”

Her father didn't look pleased with the situation, but she could certainly imagine that things could be worse.
“He said he was working late that evening and had finished shortly before I arrived and was gathering his belongings to go back to his rooms.”

“Did you see if he had anything unusual with him?”

“No. Only a coat, I believe,” she said. “Apparently he was working late to cover the hours for one of the other men. This other man, Jamie I believe is his name. Yes, well, Jamie's wife was giving birth and Gareth agreed to do all of Jamie's grinding for the day so he could leave and be with her.”

“I see. That seems honorable enough. What happened after you were locked in the storeroom?”

“I don't know how long we were in there, but after some digging and moving things about, we discovered a small window. So he assisted me to the window and I crawled out, then came around to the door and let him out. He walked me home and then he left for the boarding rooms.”

Her father waited awhile before speaking again. As if he were balancing all the facts she'd given him. “How can you be certain that he did not go back to the factory after he walked you home and steal them? Or perhaps he had already taken them,” he said.

“No, the boxes were there in the storeroom, ready to be delivered. I saw them myself. As for him going back, that's impossible. I locked the factory door when we left, and Gareth doesn't have a key. I think whoever took the boxes was still in the factory when we left that night. I think they were waiting for us to leave.

“There is something else you should know,” she added. “We know that Mr. Munden has received funds for him to pursue Gareth as the thief of these boxes.
We're not certain why or who has paid him, though.”

“How is it that you know that?” he asked.

She certainly couldn't admit to him that she'd broken into Munden's residence, so she'd leave that part out. “We came upon an anonymous note that instructed Munden to do so. It must have included money as it indicated more was to come. Unfortunately we don't have the note in our possession.”

“Interesting development. It does appear that you have an alibi that clears Mr. Mandeville of stealing the boxes.” He sighed, a sound heavy with resignation and, she feared, disappointment. “And it seems equally evident that someone was trying to frame this theft on him. I find this troubling that there would be such deception among my employees.” He rubbed his hand down his face. “I'd love more than anything to just make this disappear for you. To walk over to the Confectionery and tell Sanders and Munden that Mr. Mandeville is to retain his position, no questions asked. But you know I do not work that way. Sanders is practically my partner, I most certainly could not make a decision without giving just reasons for it. Especially when they have proof that points to Mr. Mandeville's guilt. If I allow you to present Mr. Mandeville with this alibi, your reputation will be shreds. It will be difficult, if not impossible, for you to make a good match. Do you understand that, Meg?”

Of course she understood it. She'd been sorting through the details over and over again. No marriage meant no children. She knew it was unlikely that she would marry, but being faced with the certainty of the situation was harder than she'd anticipated. It was for the best. For she feared that marriage would only end
in devastating pain, and she knew she wasn't strong enough to endure such a thing.

“Yes, Papa. I've given this quite a bit of consideration. And it's important to me that I do the right thing by coming forward with this.”

He sighed and nodded. “Then I will not forbid you to do so. Make certain you know what this decision could do, Meggie. This could hurt you more than you're anticipating.”

At least she did not love Gareth; that would save her some heartache. “I know.” She stood quickly, then walked to his side. Leaning down, she gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. “I do love you, Papa. And I hope I am not so much of a disappointment to you.”

He cradled her face in his hands. “Nothing you could do would make you a disappointment.” He rose and steadied himself on his cane. “Let us be off, then. I will not allow you to do this alone.”

“But your leg,” she protested.

“Is almost healed, and I'm tired of being stuck in his house. You can assist me.”

She nodded and watched him walk next to her out of the house. He was slower, but seemed to be maneuvering without pain or problem. They took the carriage down the hill, so he wouldn't have to try to manage the cane on the grass.

Her stomach was rattling with nerves so much, she was nearly nauseated. She hadn't wanted to do this with Gareth. He would try to stop her as he'd done before. She knew not what sort of response to expect from any of the men. But she suspected Gareth's reaction would be the worst.

 

Why hadn't he just left when he could have? Found a new job and been done with this predicament? Not only would it have saved him from Munden's accusations, but it would have kept him away from Meg. Granted, Piddington was a nice factory, paid better than most, but at what cost? And he never would have gotten one of those staff positions.

Gareth stepped into the factory fearing it might be the last time he did so. Mr. Sanders had no doubt met with Mr. Piddington by now, and Gareth's fate had been sealed. He knew he could fight it, but frankly, he was too tired to do so.

He didn't bother making his way to his station, nor did he go to his locker and remove his coat; instead he immediately climbed the stairs to Piddington's office. He'd rather have done with this now. Besides, this way he could at least choose the time of his dismissal. He took a modicum of pleasure from depriving Munden of that.

He knocked on the door, but it wasn't closed all the way, so that it slowly swung open under the weight of his fist. Munden and the director were inside having a heated discussion. A heated discussion with Meg. What the devil was going on?

“Mr. Mandeville,” Sanders said with an even tone. It was evidently not so much a greeting as it was more of an alert to the other parties in the room. That's when Gareth noticed a third man, sitting in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Mr. Piddington, he assumed.

Gareth nodded, then met Meg's gaze. She looked more serious than he'd ever seen her. A mixture of concern and resignation flickered across her face, leaving her brow furrowed and her mouth puckered. She'd
come here for one last plea, no doubt, and she'd lost. His heart thumped against his chest, and he wanted to walk to her and assure her all would be well.

But that was not his place. After today, it would no longer matter to her how his life played out. She wouldn't owe him anything; he'd ensure she understood that before he walked out of her life for good.

“So is it true, then?” Munden asked, glaring at Gareth.

“I don't follow,” Gareth said. “Is what true?”

“What Miss Piddington has told us?” Munden asked.

Gareth took a few steps inside the room, then closed the door behind him. Something was wrong.

Meg wouldn't look at him; instead she was closely examining her fingernails. Sanders eyed him suspiciously. And Munden looked angry enough to strangle him. Her father was not looking at him; the older man kept his eyes on Meg.

Gareth leveled his gaze on Meg. “What have you done?” he asked her quietly. But he already knew the answer. Already knew that she had just changed his life forever.

She lifted her eyes to his, they glistened with tears. “I told the truth,” she said.

It felt as if she'd kicked him right in the stomach, hard enough to rip the wind from his lungs.

“Is this true, Mr. Mandeville?” Sanders asked. The thin man's lips were pursed in disgust.

“What exactly did she tell you?” Gareth asked.

Sanders cleared his throat. “She said that on the night of the theft, the two of you were locked in the lower storeroom alone. And that after some time you were
able to find a way out. She also said that the chocolate boxes were in the room when you left. Since she locked the main door on her way out, there would have been no way for you to get back inside to steal the boxes. Did I capture the gist of the story, Miss Piddington?” He directed his question to Meg, but never took his eyes off Gareth.

Still her father said nothing. He would have expected the man to throttle him. Unless he was waiting. Waiting for Gareth's reaction, waiting to see if Gareth would do what was necessary.

“Yes,” she said.

He would give this to her, she wasn't backing down. She'd been given the perfect opportunity to walk away from this. Apparently Meg wasn't in the habit of walking away. And she hadn't fallen into a weeping pile on the floor as many women would have. Instead she was strong, and in different circumstances he would admire her for that. But she'd just ruined his life. With one swift decision, she'd stripped everything from him.

She knew what this meant; he'd warned her about it before. But she hadn't cared, she'd done it regardless.

“What do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Mandeville?” Sanders asked.

He released a slow breath. He couldn't lie. It wouldn't repair the damage she'd done. She'd maneuvered him into a corner, like a well-placed chesspiece, and he was out of plays.

“What the lady says is true. We were locked in the storeroom together,” he said. Meg still stood there, not looking at him. But he watched her, watched her closely as he'd have to do from now on.

She was to be his wife.

But he couldn't ask her here. He needed to speak with her father first. Alone. There were things he needed to know, things Gareth wasn't yet ready to tell Meg. And he needed to look different. If he was to become Viscount Mandeville, then he would need to look the part.

There was much to be done before he could take Meg as his bride. He took one last look at Meg, then turned and left the office.