The Scent of Scandal (Rogues and Gentlemen Book 16)

by Emma V. Leech

  Instead, Ross opened it and strode in, and waited for the fun to begin.

  Chapter 14

  “Wherein our old friends join the fray.”

  “I’m sorry,” Alex said to Sampson, who was sitting rigid and furious on his left side.

  The viscount’s arrival had disarranged the careful seating plan as husbands and fathers moved their wives and daughters away from the head of the table.

  “Would I hang, do you think?” Sampson murmured, turning to stare at his father with such loathing that Alex wasn’t certain he was joking.

  “Eventually someone will save you the trouble,” Alex said, hoping to soothe the man’s tension a little but at a loss for how exactly to do that.

  At that moment, the door to the room swung open and a collective gasp went around the room.

  “Mon Dieu!” Céleste squeaked in awe as the impressive sight of a Highlander in full military dress filled the doorway. From the size of him Alex suspected he’d be impressive enough without the kilt and the sword and the rest of it. As it was, one of the young women at the table swooned.

  “Who the devil is this?” the viscount thundered in fury as the rest of the room fell silent, aware of the threatening air the new arrival had brought into the room.

  “Céleste,” Alex said, keeping his voice low. “If anything happens, get under the table at once and don’t come out until I fetch you.”

  Céleste looked back at him in horror but gave a sharp nod of understanding.

  “Good God,” Sampson said, watching the man who was in turn staring at the viscount with as much loathing as Sampson himself had displayed.

  Alex could understand it as the big Scot glowered down at the viscount. The similarity was uncanny.

  “Viscount Cheam, I presume,” the man said, his voice strong, the burr of his accent only making his obvious anger sound more intense.

  “Get this man out of here at once,” the viscount said, sneering at the man towering over him and giving a nonchalant wave of one hand.

  Two footmen moved forward, and the Scot laid his hand on his sword. “Gonna no dae that, lads,” the fellow warned, his tone affable enough but his meaning all too clear. The footmen stilled and then resumed their positions.

  The viscount looked at his servants in disgust. “You two can find yourselves new employment,” he said, getting to his feet and looking the Highlander over as he might something he’d stepped in. “What is it you want?”

  “Why, Da? Is that any way to speak to yer son when I came all this way just to set eyes on ye?”

  There was no possible way the man could deny the relationship and everyone in the room knew it. Sampson groaned and Alex could only pity him. So much for dragging the family name from the gutter.

  “So, you’re some by-blow, come to hang off my sleeve, are you?” the viscount said with a laugh, looking at his new son with contempt. “I’ll not pay you a penny. I likely paid your mother more than she was worth for the pleasure as it is. In fact, you probably owe me.”

  The Scot made a sound of utter fury, and Alex could see his desire to strike the man down, but he did not, no matter how much he wanted to.

  “Father!” Sampson exclaimed, throwing down his napkin and getting to his feet, facing the viscount with as much anger as his new sibling. “For God’s sake, there are ladies present.”

  “Oh, give over, Sunny,” Samuel said, standing as the twins did likewise. “You don’t think he cares?” He strode over to the Highlander, grinning broadly and holding out a hand. “A new brother, eh?” he said, looking rather delighted. “Welcome to the family, Captain…?”

  “Moncreiffe,” the Scot said, looking a little startled at the warmth in his half-brother’s greeting. That had surprised him. He shook Samuel’s hand warily before turning back to the viscount. “I’d not take a farthing from ye, ye filthy bastard, though I intend to take something, I admit.”

  “Oh?” the viscount said, and Alex thought he looked rattled now, the captain’s contained fury rather harder to face than someone shouting and blustering as he’d clearly thought would be the case.

  “Aye,” said Captain Moncreiffe. “I’ll be takin’ yer life, ye miserable cur. Ye will name yer seconds and meet me, for raping my mother and leaving her so ashamed that she drowned herself the day after I was born.”

  “Oh, Alex,” Céleste cried in distress, clutching at his arm.

  There was a deathly silence and for once the viscount looked lost for words, his features taut with shock.

  “Do you have seconds?” Samuel Pelham asked the captain, his voice rather harder now, and astonishing everyone as he broke the silence.

  “Na, as it happens, I don’t,” Moncreiffe replied, looking at Sam with suspicion.

  “You do now,” the man said, his lips thinning into a taut smile.

  “Oh, God,” Sampson said, putting his head in his hands, and Alex could only sympathise.

  “You must send everyone home,” Alex said to Sampson. “There’s nothing else to be done now.”

  “There will be such a scandal to endure,” Sampson said, his expression dark. “Do you think ten or eleven years is enough for it to die down?” he asked with a twisted smile.

  “Don’t fret, Sampson,” Alex said, hoping he sounded reassuring. “I’ll support you, as will Winterbourne and Stanthorpe. You have friends. It’s your father who does not.”

  Sampson got to his feet and announced his regret that the evening was at an end, due to the circumstances.

  Everyone hurried to leave, eager to escape the combustible atmosphere. Samuel had already ushered Captain Moncreiffe away and the viscount himself looked to be in shock. He was sitting at the head of the table, his hands clutching the arms of his chair, white-faced, though there was a dangerous glint in his eyes.

  “Alex, could I ask you to stay? I assume you’ve attended a duel before?” Sampson asked him, looking suddenly older than his years as the weight of responsibility settled squarely upon his shoulders.

  Alex snorted at the man’s assumption but could not deny it. “For my sins, yes,” he admitted. “I’ll have Winterbourne see my wife home, if you’ll give me a moment.”

  Céleste was naturally alarmed but, having been assured that Alex himself was in no danger, allowed the marquess and his wife to escort her home. Once his wife had departed, he returned to Sampson.

  “You must arrange his seconds. Is there anyone?” Alex asked, curious as to who would stand with such a man.

  Sampson snorted with disgust. “Oh, there’ll be someone who’s in debt to him some way or another, some dirty secret he has a hold on.”

  Alex nodded his understanding.

  “Is it wrong of me to hope my new brother puts a period to his life?” Sampson asked, the bitterness in his voice hard edged and angry.

  “In the circumstances? No,” Alex said, grimacing a little and laying a supportive hand on the man’s shoulder. “Very understandable, I’d say.”

  Sampson nodded. “Thank you for staying, Alex. I… I’d best go to him. My brothers have taken the captain into the study. Perhaps you could see to it they don’t murder each other.”

  Alex smiled and watched him go before heading to the study.

  Captain Moncreiffe was standing, surveying the room with the battle-hardened awareness of a man who expected an attack at any moment. He stiffened further as Alex entered the room.

  “At ease, captain,” Alex said, moving towards him with an easy smile, hand outstretched. “I’m Falmouth.”

  Moncreiffe gave him a hard look before taking his hand. “Sir,” he said, his voice gruff.

  “He’s an earl, Moncreiffe,” Samuel Pelham said, an amused smile at his lips. “Mustn’t forget the niceties.”

  “Forgive me, my lord,” Moncreiffe said, a slight curl of disdain to his lips now.

  Alex glowered at Samuel for having made the distinction but said nothing further. There were enough male egos in the room at present.

  “Samuel,” h
e said to the young man. “Are you certain you want to act as second to the captain? I know there’s no love lost between you and your father, but still….”

  Samuel snorted and got to his feet. “Did you hear what he said?” he demanded. “He raped the man’s mother, got her with child and abandoned her to her fate. Good God, I wish I’d had the courage to kill him myself years ago.”

  Alex could hardly argue with that statement. In his opinion, the viscount was due to receive everything he deserved.

  “I don’t give a damn for what happens to your father,” Alex said, giving Sam a hard look. “I do give a damn for you, and what it might do to you to play a part in such an act.”

  Sam glared back at him. “I want him dead every bit as much as the captain here, and I’ll help that happen any way I can.”

  “Dinnae fret, Mr Pelham,” Captain Moncreiffe said, with a smile that made the hairs on the back of Alex’s neck stand on end. “I’m an excellent shot.” The man paused for a moment, giving the hilt of his sword a thoughtful caress. “Unless you think he’ll choose swords?” he asked lightly. “It’s a wee while since I had a good sword fight, but I think I’ll acquit myself well enough.”

  From the amused glitter in the man’s eyes, Alex thought it likely the viscount would be skewered in short order. It was obvious the Captain Moncreiffe was a hardened soldier, everything about him screamed the fact, and the Cameron Highlanders had a fierce reputation.

  “Where did you serve?” Alex asked. “Peninsular?”

  “Aye,” the captain said, sizing Alex up. “Walcheren, then following Wellington to Salamanca, and a dozen or more others, Quatre Bas and Waterloo.”

  “Walcheren? You poor bastard. A nasty piece of work,” Alex said with real regret. He noted the looks of obvious admiration from the captain’s half-brothers and was pleased they respected his service, as they should. “A pity you didn’t get to meet Winterbourne. You’d have a deal in common, I think.”

  The captain snorted, shaking his head. “I’m nae here to reminisce, my lord. I have a debt to settle.”

  The door opened and Sampson walked in. He and the captain stared at each other for a long moment.

  “Of course,” Alex said, watching the two men warily. “But why now?”

  “That’s a good question,” one of the twins said, intelligent blue eyes gleaming. Alex hadn’t the slightest idea which of them had spoken but the other echoed it at once.

  “You’re clearly not lacking the balls, Captain, why did you wait so long?”

  “Because I didnae know,” Moncreiffe growled. “I only found out by accident. My mother only told one person before she took her life, and she decided I was better off not knowing.”

  The atmosphere in the room seemed to prickle since Sampson’s arrival and then Alex realised. The captain was older than Sampson by at least five years, if his guess was anything to go on. If things had been different, he’d be the next viscount, not Sampson.

  Sampson crossed the room and held out his hand.

  “I’m Sampson Pelham, Captain Moncreiffe. May I say how sorry I am for any harm my father has done you? I will do anything in my power to make amends.”

  The captain huffed out a breath, sneering. “Ye cannae undo what he’s done. She’s a long time dead and I spent my childhood scrabbling in the dirt. What’s that worth, do ye reckon?”

  “I know,” Sampson said, still holding his hand out, his gaze steady and unflinching. “But you have family now, like it or not. You may have realised that none of us are on good terms with our sire, so there’s that. We would know our brother, though, if you would allow it.”

  The captain stared at Sampson, weighing up his sincerity before letting out a sigh that suggested he still thought it a bad idea, but he took his hand and shook it.

  “I want nothing from ye,” he said, glowering a little. “But I’ve nae quarrel with ye either. Ye cannae help being his son, nae more can I.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Samuel said, raising a glass.

  “You’d drink to anything,” Sampson said wearily.

  “How did you find out?” asked one of the twins. “If the woman your mother told decided you ought not know?”

  The captain hesitated before he answered. “There’s a lass, a… friend. The woman my mother told is now my housekeeper and this… friend… she used to work here. I overheard them talking.”

  “Who was the girl that worked here?” Sampson asked.

  “Miss Wycliffe.”

  “Freddie!” Samuel exclaimed, looking delighted. “By God, how is she? Is she well?”

  “Aye, nae thanks to any of ye here,” the captain said, giving Samuel the kind of furious look that made Alex wonder if the lass was rather more than a friend.

  “We didn’t know,” Sampson said, bristling a little at the accusation. “I’ve only just returned to London. I spent the last eighteen months in the country, trying to get one of our estates in order. Sam and the twins only pop in and visit our sisters when our father is away. They don’t live here.”

  Sam gave a rueful nod. “It’s true. By the time I discovered what had happened she’d gone and left no forwarding address.” He sighed and shook his head. “Silly of her. Can’t believe she didn’t come to me. Surely she knew I’d help?”

  He looked troubled at the fact, speaking almost to himself, until Moncreiffe crossed the room and hauled the man to his feet by his cravat, throwing him against the wall.

  Everyone erupted, with Sam’s brothers piling onto the captain and trying to pull him off.

  “Why would she come to ye, ye bastard?” the furious Scot shouted. “Was it for ye she had to fit a lock to her door, eh?”

  “What?” Sam exclaimed in horror. “No! I was her friend, that’s all, nothing more, I swear to God. Now get your bloody hands off me.”

  “Moncreiffe,” Alex shouted, elbowing his way between the two men. “I can vouch for Sam. He’s not like his father, none of them are. You can trust them.”

  “And why the hell should I take yer word for anything?”

  Alex let out a breath and looked the man in the eye. “Because you must trust someone, a little, at least. I have no affection for the viscount. If ever a man needed a bullet between his eyes, it’s him. In your position, I would do the same.” He paused, considering. “I have done,” he added, remembering the evil bastard who’d had such plans for his wife. Alex hadn’t used a gun, but his bare hands.

  The captain’s shrewd green eyes narrowed at that, seeing the truth of his words in Alex’s expression. He let out a breath and stepped back.

  Alex did the same and then realised the Pelham brothers were staring at him.

  “The stories about you aren’t just stories, are they, Alex?” Sampson said with a wry smile.

  Alex shrugged, looking nonchalant. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

  Chapter 15

  “Wherein… The Ring. Hyde Park. Dawn.”

  Ross stepped down from the carriage into the dim light of a damp October morning. The Earl of Falmouth had accompanied him and Samuel Pelham to Hyde Park. A circumstance Ross was still having trouble accepting.

  Falmouth was big devil, with black hair and cold grey eyes. He looked more like a pirate than a nobleman, the sort who could handle himself in a fight. He was not at all what Ross had expected of someone with such a lofty title. That he’d all but admitted to murdering a man who’d attempted to commit a crime such as the viscount had inflicted on his mother had been astonishing, but tonight had been so full of surprises Ross felt as if this was some outlandish dream.

  His half-brothers had not only greeted him warmly, one of them was his second in the coming duel, for the love of God.

  He took a moment to wonder what life might be like with Viscount Cheam as his father, to live with the man and have him as a part of everyday life.

  No wonder they were so keen to see the bastard dead.

  Ross had refused to allow the gentlemanly r
itual of letter writing back and forth between him and the viscount, where the duel was formally accepted. He’d made it very clear he was no gentleman and he’d be damned if he would abide by such niceties. His wretched excuse for a father could meet him at dawn or admit his cowardice to the world.

  The viscount had chosen pistols. Not a surprise, though a pity, as Ross would have enjoyed taking him apart a slice at a time, but so be it. A clean shot was more than the man deserved, but at least it would be done.

  That he might lose his own life was something he accepted; worse was the idea he might not be killed outright. That he might linger in pain and fever or, worse still, find himself crippled by some dreadful injury was a far greater concern. He forced those fears away. He’d faced violence and danger too many times to allow himself to indulge in what ifs. Fate would choose his path and he’d face it, whatever it was.

  For a moment, he allowed himself to remember Freddie, to remember the taste of her kisses, and the feel of her in his arms. He felt a sharp pang of regret that he’d left her in such a way. No doubt she hated him now, just as she ought. That he had taken advantage of her made him feel he was just as deserving of a bullet as his bloody father. What kind of man was he, to take such a little innocent and treat her so? Not a man his mother would find any pride in, too like his villainous father.

  Shame filled his heart and he swore that if he ever saw Freddie again, he would offer his heartfelt apology for his actions. It was the least he could give her.

  Alex stood beside him as Sam went off to check the doctor had arrived.

  “I’m getting too old for this,” the earl said, rubbing a hand over his face.

  “Done this afore too, eh?” Ross asked with a snort.

  “Indeed,” Falmouth replied with a wry smile. “And I’d rather not carry your lifeless corpse from the field, if it’s all the same to you. I rather like you, Captain Moncreiffe.”

  Ross snorted a laugh, thinking much the same of the fellow beside him. He was a plain-spoken man, the kind that Ross could respect.