Scandal's Deception

by Pamela Gibson

  Everything was so complicated. Once she reached her majority, would he merely turn her funds over to her, or would she be the one sending requests?

  Or I could marry him.

  She wanted to. Her body burned when he touched her, making her long to know what might come next. Her mind came alive during their discussions, especially when he argued an opposite point. He was her teacher, her protector, and though she tried not to show it, the man she had come to love.

  She was a pathetic, lovestruck creature who searched for her man around every corner, who came alight when she heard his voice.

  But she couldn’t marry him. A union formed from duty meant he might one day find someone he cared for. He would come to resent her, and she would know she was responsible for his unhappiness.

  She took a deep breath and forced her mind back to the immediate problem. There was one solution he might approve. While she’d love to be able to live with Lady Amelia, she hated being a burden to the woman. Why couldn’t she hire a companion, an older woman like his aunt who could lend propriety to her situation? She would have to be a gentlewoman. Surely there were a few who might need a situation.

  There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?

  Mother would have to explain her absence. She could say Jane had decided to visit that grandmother in Scotland to explain the long absence.

  The plan could succeed if Ralston would approve. She was sure he would be here by afternoon.

  She got to her feet, brushed off the sand, and put on her footwear. Going up the path would be easier than coming down, and she wouldn’t rush. At the foot of the cliff, she gazed once again across the sea in the direction of America.

  The usual pang of longing wasn’t there. In its place was an eagerness to begin a new life.

  And to see the man she could never have.

  Chapter 41

  Ralston put down his newssheet as his butler brought his breakfast.

  “Lady Siltsbury is here to see you.”

  He glanced at the clock on the sideboard. “At this hour of the morning?”

  “Shall I say you are at home?”

  “Yes. Bring her in here and see that an extra place setting is brought in.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  He’d never known Lady Siltsbury to rise before noon. Although he was leaving this morning for Chelmsford—having put off his trip yet another day—he was curious about how Jane and Jocelyn had fared at the musicale the night before last. Their mother’s appearance on his doorstep did not bode well.

  She bustled in, her face flushed. “Ralston, thank God you haven’t yet departed.”

  The woman was clearly agitated. He rose and indicated the chair opposite his. “What’s happened?”

  “Jane is missing.”

  The punch to his gut was unexpected. He wanted to ask her to repeat what she’d said. Her heavy breathing and pained expression told him he’d heard correctly. “Surely not another abduction.”

  “No. Nothing like that.”

  The butler put a cup in front of her and asked if she wished for tea or coffee. She shook her head and took a handkerchief from her pocket.

  “Did something happen at the musicale?” Damn, he should have gone. He’d thought about it at the time, but Cardmore was going to be there and was fully capable of handling a situation.

  “She cried off because she had a headache. Jocelyn and I attended, and while some tittered behind their fans and I caught one matron pointing her finger at Jocelyn, most seemed sympathetic, and we were not shunned. Your friend Lady Cardmore took us in hand the minute we arrived and had us sit with her during the program.”

  “And what of Jane?”

  “As I said, she remained home, and when we returned, I tiptoed into the room to see if she was feeling better. She was asleep.”

  “I’m not following. Did Mary report her missing? Did you check the stables? Is the horse she favors there? She sometimes likes to ride in the morning.”

  “Mary is missing, too. And . . .” She dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief.

  “And what?”

  “A maid went in to clean the hearth and spied her riding habit tossed in a corner. The skirt had leaves stuck to it, and the bodice of her habit was torn. I asked to see the grooms, and one reported that Jane had ridden out at dawn unaccompanied. ’Tis obvious she returned. The horse is there. Her habit is on the floor of her room. She and Mary are gone.”

  Ralston paced the length of the room, then came back. “No one saw her leave?”

  “Two kitchen maids. I asked everyone I could think of if they’d seen her and cancelled my appointments, hoping she’d return. She did not. That’s when I began to panic.” She dabbed at her eyes again.

  “Why did you not send for me?”

  “I thought you’d gone to Chelmsford. I rushed here to find someone to send you word, and your butler said you were still in residence. Where could she have gone?”

  And more to the point, what made her leave?

  The torn habit made the knots in his gut twist. There were two places where she might have gone, and if so, he would strangle her with his bare hands for leaving like this.

  “If she’s run away, she’s either gone to my aunt’s home in Painswick, or she’s gone to her property in Devon. I shall send a messenger to my aunt, but I fear it is the latter.”

  “Please go after her, Ralston.”

  He stared hard at the woman before him who clutched her handkerchief with white knuckles, and whose eyes seemed to plead with him.

  “You act like you actually care.”

  She had the grace to look away.

  “I know I have not been the best of mothers. Jane is a stranger to me. I was inconsolable when Mathew took her away, so I lavished all my love on Jocelyn and tried to forget I had another daughter. I knew her father would care for her. Even so, I sometimes caught myself wondering what her life was like. Then I’d banish the thought and get on with my own.”

  “And now?”

  “I’ve begun to allow myself to care for her again. She’s a remarkable girl—woman, actually—and I know I was wrong to suggest she take her sister’s place at the birthday ball. She’s her own person. Unique. Bewildering at times. I know she hates me. Please, Ralston. Please don’t let her come to harm.”

  He’d never known Lady Siltsbury to be so emotional. He thought her lacking in wits when she’d outlined her plan for the outrageous deception.

  And I failed her.

  He stifled his panic and patted her shoulder. “I’ll find her.”

  “Will you send word when you do?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you.” She put her handkerchief in her reticule and attempted a weak smile. Sighing, she bid him adieu.

  Christ, how could Jane go without leaving word?

  More worrying was what had happened to make her take such rash actions.

  He penned two quick notes. One for his aunt and another for his sister. He instructed his valet to send messengers to both residences with instructions to send their responses to Seacliff Cottage.

  To go to the cottage by horse would be quicker, but he’d need the carriage to bring her back.

  No, I can hire one.

  Which might be what she did to get there in the first place.

  If she’s there.

  Once he was ready, he made his way as quickly as he could through the myriad of coaches and horsemen on the road. His body was tied in knots, and his patience was as thin as thawing pond ice as curricles, carriages, and pedestrians got in his way. Once he cleared the busier part of London, he coaxed his horse into a canter, then a gallop. At this pace he’d be there by late afternoon. If she were trying to hide from the world, the seaside cottage would be her destination. She’d f
allen in love with the place because it reminded her of her home.

  And I fell in love with her there on a windswept cliff one lazy afternoon.

  He’d lain awake many nights until he came to that conclusion. Jane was an enigma that gave him no peace—an odd combination of shyness and spunk, cleverness and naivete, sadness and glee. She reached places in his heart he’d closed off, places that hurt due to his absent father, and a mother whose children gave her no joy, however hard they tried.

  He’d once labeled himself incapable of love. He’d had no examples.

  Until he’d met Jane.

  Love was an elusive feeling that spun away when it was in reach and easily soured with insincerity. He wasn’t sure he’d ever experienced it, although he’d witnessed it in the lives of his two best friends. If it was a heaviness in the chest when your eyes met someone else’s, and an overwhelming need to protect and give happiness to a single individual, then yes, he’d had love in his life.

  He was in love with his ward, and he’d let her down . . . again.

  Anxiety made him test the limits of his horse as they rode south. He was fortunate the weather was good, and he made excellent time, arriving on the coast earlier than he expected.

  When he arrived, he found the steward in the stable examining the shoe of a black horse. The man grinned as Gilbert strode in.

  “I wondered when we might expect you, sir.”

  Gilbert dismounted and took his horse to a watering trough. “She’s here?”

  “She and her maid arrived yesterday.”

  “Is she in the house?”

  “I’m not sure.” The horse needed to be given feed. The steward took the reins from his hands. “I’ll see to your mount.”

  “Thank you.” He ran into the house and met the housekeeper in the kitchen, peeling vegetables.

  “Where is she?”

  “She said she was going back to the beach to walk in the sand.”

  He strode through the house and out to the cliff. Scanning the spit of land below, he spotted her in the distance, seated back from the shore.

  Swallowing hard, he sighed.

  She was safe.

  Chapter 42

  Jane closed her eyes and let the sound of the tide rushing to shore soothe her. If she remained here the rest of her life, she would be at peace.

  Her mind would long for sights and experiences that would enrich it. But she’d learned early that books could fulfill some of her needs, and she had much to learn.

  Do we ever stop learning? Is the purpose of life to combine that knowledge with curiosity so new discoveries are made? Or do we learn in order to teach others?

  She liked pondering questions that had no clear answer. If she’d been a man, she would have been a scholar—a teacher, perhaps in a university.

  What would Ralston’s answer be?

  “Jane?”

  She let out a long breath, as if she’d been holding it until he arrived. He stood at the bottom of the cliff path and began walking toward her. She waited for him, every fiber of her body thrumming with the need to be folded into his arms where all her hurts would be soothed.

  He stopped a few feet away, his face reflecting conflicting emotions. He held out his arms, and she walked into them, pressing her body against his, letting his touch soothe her with the sun overhead and waves breaking in the background, the smell of the ocean in her nostrils.

  Gentle lips kissed the top of her head, and with all her defenses gone, the tears that burned behind her eyes finally fell.

  “Let it all out, my love. No one else is around.”

  Her body shook with sobs. Tears for Papa who’d died too soon. Tears for the life she’d left behind. Tears for the mother who didn’t love her. Tears for the mess she’d made of her time in England.

  After a few minutes, Gilbert looked into her face and swept his fingers gently under her eyes.

  “I don’t know what happened to bring you here. If you’d like to talk about it, I’m a good listener.”

  She nodded, and they walked to a spot back from the waterline. Gil removed his coat and spread it out for her to sit on, then lowered himself beside her, pulling her close with one arm.

  “After our promenade on Rotten Row, I was sure Mother was wrong, that there’d be only minor grumblings about the problem with the marquis, the ball, all the things that went wrong. I was tired of pretending to be happy and couldn’t face the musicale.

  “After a restless night, I got up before dawn and rode into the park, wanting to feel the air on my face as I let my horse have its head. I took him back into the trees and walked for a while, letting the horse graze while I tried to plan.” She allowed herself to look into his face. “That’s when it happened.”

  “Tell me.”

  She recounted the incident, proud of her calm voice, although she couldn’t stop her body from trembling as she remembered the man’s foul breath and his body pinning her to the tree. “When they called me a whore, I knew I could never face anyone again. Because that’s what I would be, no matter how elegant my gown or how proper my companions.”

  She felt his body tighten.

  “Your mother should have sent you to Siltsbury Park, away from town,” he spat. “No heir has yet been located. You would not have had to face anyone important there.”

  She studied her hands. She’d forgotten her gloves. “But you see, I didn’t believe her, you, Jocelyn—even your aunt. I thought all those rules silly and was sure all of you were making them sound harsher than they were. When the marquis told lies, as we know he does, I thought surely good people would know the truth.”

  His arm tightened around her, and she burrowed into his neck, breathing in his clean scent. “Tell me what I must do. I’m not sure I can ever show my face again, and I cannot go back to Mother’s house. I don’t want my actions to ruin Jocelyn. May I stay here?”

  “Your sister is not completely innocent in all this.”

  “I know. Oddly, I feel protective toward her.”

  He sat back, so he could look directly into her face. “You have another choice. My offer of marriage still stands.”

  She clutched the cloth of her skirt. “I cannot marry someone who offers out of duty. One day you will fall in love with someone and resent me. I-I would not want that to happen.”

  “I am in love, Jane.” His fingers were gentle as he raised her chin to look into her eyes. “I am in love with you.”

  Her heart quickened as his lips found hers. He gently explored her mouth, as if giving her time to move away. When he lowered the rest of her body to the soft sand, he followed, kissing her deeply, his tongue pressing the seam of her lips until she let it in.

  Her body tingled with anticipation as his lips drank in her moans of pleasure and his fingers caressed her breast through the thin muslin of her day gown. She wanted more, whatever more was, and it must have something to do with the ache between her legs as his mouth dropped kisses on her neck, her collarbone, and the soft rise of her breasts above her neckline. She clasped his head, moaning as he moved lower, his tongue finding a taut nipple straining against the cloth of her bodice.

  He stopped abruptly and pulled her close.

  “Please say you’ll marry me, Jane. I do not think I can act honorably much longer.”

  “You love me? It’s not duty speaking?”

  “If I had met you at a ball, I would have danced with you at least twice, called on you the next day with a bouquet of flowers, and taken you riding in Rotten Row at the fashionable hour so everyone would know my intentions. I would have coaxed you into a dimly lit garden and kissed you senseless, hoping someone would see us so I would be honor bound to propose.”

  A smile twitched at her lips. “That’s how courtships are conducted here, milord?”

&nb
sp; “Proper ones. Yes. Except for the kiss. That would have been most improper.”

  She closed her eyes, hoping he would kiss her again. She loved the way it made her feel—desired, cherished. But he was being Ralston again, waiting for her answer.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Jane, please. Put me out of my misery. This is something I never expected.”

  “What of your reputation? Will it not seem odd that you married one of your wards? One ruined by a rogue.”

  “Not in this society and certainly not in these circumstances. My reputation will be enhanced. No one will know that I secretly tremble with love for my beautiful, willful—”

  “Tainted.”

  He grinned. “Momentarily tainted ward. Marrying me will give you respectability, and in time, the gossips will feed on new scandals.”

  She started to speak, but he held up his hand palm out. “Let me finish. If you agree to marry me, I will take you to my estate where there are acres of riding trails, pens with farm animals, chickens, barn cats, a faithful hunting dog, and a large room with floor-to-ceiling shelves full of books. I daresay you will feel right at home.”

  “I would not have to make calls or have dinner parties?”

  “Not at first. In time, perhaps, when you find neighbors with whom you are comfortable.”

  She leaned closer, until his breath warmed her cheek. “Yes, I will marry you. I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you in that pub near the docks, standing stiffly and looking wary as you searched my face. I thought, ‘Here is Prince Charming come to my rescue.’ Do you know the story?”

  “I do.” He laughed and pushed her back down, kissing her deeply as their tongues twined and the tingling became an unbearable throb throughout her body. When his lips slipped once again to her breast, he abruptly stopped. “Unless we wish to anticipate our wedding night with an audience of seagulls, I believe we should return.”